Young Immortals

Ten: Flashback #2

Spring came and went, followed by the hottest summer the mortal lands had seen in over a decade. Beads of sweat rolled down my nape as I peered out the window of my father's carriage at the farmland speeding by. 

All of it was dead. The crop fields were yellow and overgrown, spotted with patches of dust, and the trees were solid sticks, not a leaf in sight. If not for the constant oinking, I would have thought Ivan's family farm was abandoned.

"Here, Miss Isobel?" the driver asked from the front. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

As I crossed the dirt walkway to Ivan's house – a one-bedroom wooden cabin – I tugged self-consciously at the hem of my dress. It was a simple cotton smock, the plainest clothing I had in my wardrobe, and I was still overdressed. Ivan's siblings kept pausing their field work to stare at me, looking away the second I tried to catch their eye.

"Isobel," Ivan said, once he opened the door and saw me standing on his doorstep. 

He looked nothing like his usual self. The meticulous attention he gave his appearance was gone. His hair stuck up in wild spikes, and he had mud and grease stains all over his clothes. Even his milk cup was mucked up with smudges.

"Can we get a drink?" I said.

He stared at me, his thoughts written all over his face. We had not spoken since the academy let out for summer break, and this was how I broke the silence?

"I'm getting married," I added.

Ivan nearly dropped his mug. It took him a few tries to speak. "Don't I – don't I have to buy a ring first?"

"Not you. Santiago."

"Santiago? As in, your cousin, Santiago?"

"Yes."

"Alright," he said. "I have to finish my chores, but we can get a drink tonight."

At sunset, I took a table in the back of the local tavern. While I waited for Ivan's arrival, I ordered myself a drink, hoping that some ale would cool my nerves. This talk was a long time coming. As I climbed the academy ranks, slowly but steadily claiming Ivan's spot at the top, our relationship soured, but the final nail in the coffin was the end-of-year award ceremony. 

The professors used to call Ivan the artist of a lifetime, and now they were calling me the artist of all lifetimes. I thought we were both learning from each other, but maybe he felt cheated – like he had something stolen at zero gain. 

"Ivan," I started when I saw him coming down the hall, but he brushed past me like I was invisible. All summer I had put off a reconciliation, hoping he would come to me, but my impending marriage forced my hand. If Ivan found out I married another man through the papers, we would be done for good.

"You're having me on," Ivan said in lieu of greeting, taking loudly to be heard over the crowded tavern. 

I slid my purse aside, and Ivan took the seat next to me, handing me another drink. 

"Your family is already rich, what would they stand to gain by forcing your hand?"

"Prestige and title," I reply. "My parents have their hearts set on this old geyser of a nobleman."

"But I thought you were marrying Santiago."

"To avoid the geyser. It's not a real marriage, of course. Santiago has agreed that we will be married in name alone, and while he runs the estate, I'll be free to carry on with my art." I took a long sip of ale, savouring its burn down my throat. "The wedding's in a fortnight, if you'd like to attend. You ought to bring your cousin, too, then we can have a double ceremony."