Prince Cassius of Voria has a lot of problems; training to inherit the crown, pleasing his overbearing mother, his father bursting into his room at inopportune times... But worst of all, he can't seem to find a future queen to tickle his fancy. Even...
My hand shook as I scrawled letters across the scroll. Most of the leaves had fallen, creating more work for us in the courtyard. The first cold snap was coming; my bones were aching in warning.
Sophia looked over Jack's shoulder and pointed at something he had written. "Dog. Can you tell me what's wrong there?"
Jack stared open-mouthed. "Umm... oh! It's backwards. The D." He scratched out his word and rewrote it.
"Very good," Sophia praised him.
A smile spread across my face. Jack had been doing quite well in his lessons. For being as young as he was— only eight or nine years of age— I'd been very pleased with his progress and attitude throughout the process.
Sophia turned her attention to me. "Would you like me to review your essay?" I nodded, though I certainly would not have called my ramblings an essay. She took the scroll and began reading it through, taking a quill and occasionally correcting something. "You've done exceptionally well, Finnian. Your errors are getting fewer by the day."
I tapped my chest with my fist twice. Thank you.
She was always kind in her "grading," but always honest. I appreciated her gentle support. Little did she know how often I bent over scrolls and spare parchment and whatever I could get my hands on, scratching away with my quill and ink that cost more than what I was comfortable with. I was unsure what had gripped me the past month, but the sooner I could read and write fluently, the better. Perhaps I would finally be able to properly tell Conrad off.
Who was I kidding? That would never happen.
Once Jack had finished correcting his work, he leaped up and looked to me. "Can I go check on the horses?"
I nodded, and he scuttered off. He was still a kid. I didn't expect him to sit still for this long.
Sophia caught my attention. "I know you said he's not your son, but he seems to look up to you as if you're his father."
I exhaled and let myself smile. I held one hand up and then started to spell. I had been working on attributing letters to certain hand signals. It would make it easier to communicate, though I was still fumbling a bit through it. Sophia and Jack were learning alongside me. Slowly, I spelled out the words, someone must take care of him. If not me, then who else?
Her soft smile drifted. "I suppose you're correct. I'm sure he's happy it is you." She began to stand, to which I quickly offered my hand in assistance— a mere habit more than concern— but she waved she aside as usual. "I'll take my leave, then. I will see you again tomorrow." Sophia then made her way back to the castle, which left the courtyard utterly quiet. My own breath reached my ears. Fog blew from my mouth. Darkness had begun to descend upon us.
I made my way under the stable's awning. Jack's boots thumped from the loft above as I examined every single stabled horse before retiring for the night.
"Still as diligent as ever, I see."
I turned around, holding my lantern out in front of me.
Adaline stood next to a wooden pillar, earth brown hair licking against the cloth of her chest. A basket hung off of her fingers.
It is a strange thing, the way missing someone works. I had not seen her for nearly a moon, we had both been so entangled in our work, and yet the moment my eyes laid on her, I was overwhelmed with a sense of relief, of home. Sophia had distracted me from the void of her absence. How could I have ever forgotten it? Sometimes you do not realize what you've missed until having it again.
I hung the lantern on a hook, it's small flame warming my face as I hugged her.
She inhaled sharply, but then returned the embrace, burying her head into my shoulder. "I'm sorry it's been so long. There's been so much going on within the castle, especially with the preparations for the golden leaf ball, it makes it hard to come out and see you, and I don't expect you to be able to come in and see me, of course. You have too much work here, and—"
I leaned back and looked at her. There were no need for apologies.
She understood.
We sat against the straw by the last stall in the row. Our corner was warm. A black mare peeked her head over, then retreated back to her own bed and hay. Adaline unpacked her basket: a loaf of bread, three apples, and a small assortment of greens. I thanked her and began to separate the bread into three sections.
"I wish I could give you more, but they're becoming more strict with winter around the corner. They're saying we didn't have as good a harvest as last year, so they're being cautious." She took a piece of bread and took a bite.
I examined her. Where was her energy, her enthusiasm, her gossip? My eyes softened, then I gazed into the darkness and the sliver of sky within sight. An endless void floated above us, filled with endless stars. They shone even through the clouds, reminding us of their presence, of how small we were. Perhaps soon, we would be able to see the sky lights at night.
With a shuddering breath, she leaned firmly against my side, her own dragon's breath joining mine. I wrapped my arm around her and dug up more straw with my feet. The straw would help warm us.
"Do you feel it too, Finn? It's going to be a long winter."
I rested my head against hers. It was all the confirmation she needed. Another winter that would drain her soul. Adaline reminded me of the trees; she bloomed fully in the spring and summer, fueled by the sun, a part of the sun, and in winter, she lay desolate, tired, mournful. She missed the sun, I think. It was what made her whole.
We were quiet for a long while. As we finished our meal, I mindlessly laid out, creating a wall of straw between the elements and us. Jack might have called it a fort— I called it safety. Adaline laid beside me, an arm and a leg over me, her head on my chest. "I've missed you."
Only we could do this. Only we could do this in safety, in confidence, in comfort. Our bond was indescribable to an outsider.
I closed my eyes. Adaline spoke. "I've found myself dreaming lately." The gentle vibrations of her voice spread across my chest, lulling me further towards the edge. "Of leaving this place. Of the oceans. Of the deserts they tell tales about. The mountains. The fields where they say you can see the gods at night, in the sky. Even more beautiful than when the sky lights are here. Then maybe, if they see you worthy, they'll grant you your greatest wish...
"I want something more, Finn. More than this simple life. More than cleaning dishes and serving nobles. I want to see everything beyond these castle walls."
I stroked her hair and let my hand rest on her shoulder. A saying surfaced in my mind: we get what we deserve. She deserved it all. But what did I deserve?
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Since I have been gone for two weeks, I gift you with an extra chapter, because never once in my life have a met a self-imposed deadline. These chapters were supposed to just be one combined chapter, but it was too long, so I split it up because I could.
