camille von rosewald wakes on an early, early autumn morning, her brother rushing her out of bed in order to meet the carriage. which carriage? well, that's a good question. one that she has, too, in fact.
camille finds herself at the manor of earl...
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ELIAS
I didn't look at Camille as I walked with her through the halls. I silently prayed that she hadn't seen my flush upon our collision. I still burned with shame, my fingertips itching to move my hair and hide it again. Just in case.
I didn't move too fast, as she was short and I could easily figure out a pace that'd be easier for her to match. I usually walked fast. I had no idea what'd come over me to make me behave this way. I didn't know why I even cared. I didn't know her.
What I did know, however, is that her hands were calloused.
Rougher than mine, for sure. I didn't feel embarrassed about it, though. I normally would have. I didn't bother to think too hard about why I didn't.
She had rough hands, and she had small hands, and they felt all too perfect clasped within my own. I didn't know what to think of this. I was an idiot- of that, I was certain. I had no right to do this. She didn't... want this. She wanted nothing to do with me.
My head hurt. Perhaps if I spent time with her now, she wouldn't mind my skipping breakfast. I wouldn't be able to make it all the way through breakfast. I certainly wouldn't.
I had promised Damien that I'd take my medicine. I didn't feel quite as bad about the lie as I usually did, though. Camille's presence put me at ease.
"Here it is." I released her hand, opening the door for her.
Her eyes widened slightly as she stepped out onto the patio. Heat rushed to my cheeks and I looked away, flushing.
How adorable could one girl be?
Was she trying to kill me? My heart couldn't take this.
Deep down, I knew it was probably wrong for me to feel like this when we'd really only met a few days ago. We'd technically been engaged for months, but she could've easily been with other people. What if she had a man back in her village?
The very idea made that vice-like feeling clamp back down around my heart. I cleared my throat, shutting my brain down.
"You like flowers, then?" I inquired, following after her.
"I do." She agreed, picking a tulip from one of the bushes. "Quite a bit, in fact."
"Roses?" I asked.
"Yeah." Camille lifted it to her nose, inhaling the scent. "Pink."
I nodded slightly. For as long as I could remember, the garden had only never had red roses. Pink roses, yes. White roses, obviously. But no red. I had gotten used to it. Mum had planted them all herself.
No red, because she said that they'd manifest bloodshed. White roses were a symbol of Iies, the goddess of peace. Red roses were a symbol of Iies' counterpart, Qysyn. The goddess of war.
I had always found that interesting.
"I'll remember that, then." I dipped my head.
I hoped, deep down, that she was okay with the garden not having red roses. I wouldn't mind planting some if it was really what she wanted. I didn't want for her to feel like the house wasn't hers.
She'd be my wife, after all- If things went as planned.
"What about lilies?"
Camille nodded faintly. "All flowers." After a moment, she corrected herself. "No. Most flowers- not anything yellow." She sighed.
"You don't like yellow?" I sat down on the stone bench, watching her. She was fascinating.
"I like it. Just not yellow flowers. They're too bright, and I much prefer lighter yellows." She explained. I nodded, listening. So, she liked all flowers, with the exception of any yellow varieties. That wasn't a difficult boundary.
The look in her eyes made me wonder if she was tired. It was late, after all. I was certainly tired. I usually went to sleep between 9:00 pm and 10:00 pm. Staying up late made me feel nauseous when I woke up. I didn't know why. My gaze flicked over her briefly. I caught a glimpse of the ink on her left hand. "You were writing." I observed.
She glanced at her hand. "Uh-huh. I forgot to clean that off." She sat down beside me.
"So, you're left-handed, then?" I queried. I picked a pink rose, holding it out to her. I wanted to get to know her.
She smiled faintly as she accepted it. I couldn't help but acknowledge her beauty once again. When she smiled, her eyes squinted slightly.
"I am." She nodded. "And you?"
"Right-handed." I dipped my head.
Her eyes glinted as she twirled my rose in her slender hands. She was quiet for a few long moments, and each one made my chest ache as I tried to place her. "You have beautiful penmanship."
I blinked briefly. "How do you know that?" I managed a soft smile. It hurt my jaw. I didn't do that often, but now Damien had made me feel bad about my expression.
"Your letter." She looked back at the rose.
I nodded after a moment. "Right." I was quiet for a minute, my smile becoming just the slightest bit more genuine. "Well, thank you."
