The Whipping Tree

II: Lavender and Viridian

II

Lavender and Viridian

Several Months Ago

        

         A quiet knock on the library door jolts Joan out of her forced study.

         “Yes?” she calls.

         A maid hastens into the room, taking in the shelves of books before she places a note on the table next to Kings of Drachmere.

         “A message for you, Miss Joaneveive.”

         She thanks the maid and unfolds it before the girl even leaves.

         Miss Joaneveive,

         Would you like to go on a stroll after your studies?

         She smiles and shakes her head at the contrast between his blocky letters and the formality of the note, out of her chair and the library in an instant.

         When she bursts out the kitchen door, cheeks still flushed from the looks the cooks shot her, Boone leaps to his feet just in time to keep her from tripping over his cross-legged form.

         “Hi,” she gets out, trying to even out her breaths.

         “Miss Joaneveive,” he replies. He wears an odd expression, but Joan doesn’t have time to place it. He sweeps her off the steps into a crushing embrace and buries his face into her neck.

         The sensation makes her laugh, and she pushes her hands through his hair. “How was your trip? I didn’t think you would return so soon.”

         He says nothing for several beats, only holds her close. When he does respond, the noise is muffled by her skin.

         “Pardon me?”

         “I missed you,” he repeats, still hiding his face and still squeezing her.

         “You were gone for four days,” she clucks, amused.

         Boone sets her down but hangs onto her hands.

         “I missed you nonetheless,” he says in a small voice, bashful but less embarrassed than he would normally be.

         His words make her stomach flip, but she quells it with another embrace.

         “These are for you,” he says when they break apart. He produces a basket of shalenberries from beside the door.

         “From your trip?”

         “Yes.” He lifts the basket, arms stiff, and offers it to her, though not before faltering. “Unless you want me to hold onto it for you.”

         “That’s all right. I can manage a basket.”

         It’s surprisingly heavy when she takes it from him, but she feigns haste using the step she stumbles, and that is how they end up walking at a brisk pace.

         “Are you…Are you in hurry today?” he asks, accompanied by a sidelong glance.

         “No, not at all.” A flush creeps up her face but they say nothing more until they reach the lake.

         “Can I eat them now? Or should I give these to the cooks?” She lifts a berry and rolls it back and forth between her fingers. It tickles.

         “Try one now.”

         Joan struggles more with cracking it open than she would like to admit, failing to see a way around the bristles that prick the pads of her fingers and the undersides her nails.

         Boone watches her fumble for a moment before splitting the shell for her.       

         His hand shoots out before she eats it.

         “Wait.”

         He leans in and kisses her for the first time, sudden and not lingering enough for her to react.

         Joan blurts the first thing that comes to mind after he pulls away.

         “Does that help the taste?”

         Boone laughs but can’t help the blush that rises.

         “I don’t believe so.” He takes a berry for himself and licks the inside clean, starting on another right after.

         It does taste like honey with a tang of sourness, just like he described when they first began taking strolls together, and the berry holds just enough nectar for a mouthful.

        They settle into a quiet rhythm, Joan leaning against his chest, passing berries over her shoulder to him and chatting idly, opening up when he holds one to her lips.

         The grass is littered with shells, basket significantly lighter when Boone wipes his hands on his pants and wraps his arms around her.

         “Was it nice returning home?”

         “Which home?”

         It takes Joan a moment to understand his question and she’s touched when she realizes he considers the manor his second home.

         “Myndelwhir.”

         “It was. I haven’t been back there since I first left. It hasn’t changed, but there were people I wish I hadn’t seen.” He chuckles into her hair and rests his chin on her head. “People I wish I saw but didn’t.”

         Joan knows what he means and overlaps their arms. She tries to imagine growing up without Lord or Lady Ailemer, being raised by her aunt and uncle alongside Maud instead.

         She makes a sympathetic noise, twists and leans to kiss his forehead. His smile is a little forced and his shoulders sag.

         “Welcome home.”

         He just looks at her for a few moments. His clouded eyes flick over each feature of her face, then melt into something that looks like gratitude.

         “Thank you.”

(**A/N: Very seriously considering taking out all this fluff. I'm probably going to go back and add actual significance to these flashbacks (hinthint), but that'll probably be when I'm close to finishing the entire story.

I want to know what you guys think! Don't be shy, really. If you prompt me to update, chances are I'll probably update :P)