Aristocrat | ✓

CHAPTER SEVEN

     When I was fourteen, I met Alister for the first time. He had been a boy with hair as red as that of candle flames, and freckles that looked like someone had thrown a cup of dirt on his face. He was taller than me—though, every boy my age was.

     I remember how he'd stared at me from his seat on the bench while the man in front with an open bible preached to the small congregation gathered in a villager's common room. There was something almost ironic about two teen Protestant boys ogling each other as their parents and the rest of the congregation prayed for the fall of the Catholic Church.

     I knew I liked men already, and I knew Alister was like me. Alister fancied me, and I fancied him. We just never said it out loud. We became friends, and two years went by. Two years of helping our little congregation set up for sermons. Two years of studying the bible together while pretending that our hearts didn't skip anytime our fingers brushed. Two years of pretending that we didn't see each other as anything more than very good friends.

     When we were sixteen, Alister decided to push that boundary. He started asking me questions. Questions like if I loved God like I would love a woman, and if I thought Jesus kissing his disciples was bad. He liked the relationship between Jesus and John to that of a husband and wife, and he asked me if David and Johnathan had been something more.

     There was something about his questions that made me panic and distance myself from him. I knew what he wanted my answers to be. I knew what he wanted me to admit out loud even though I was comfortable with never letting the words that defined me leave my lips. He wanted me that way, and I wanted him that way, but I had been afraid—

     The sound of trotting horse feet brought me out of my thoughts. I looked out of the window, watching as a carriage passed through the castle gates. It was probably food and supplies coming in. A sigh left my lips as I shook my head and stared down at the book on my lap. It was a simple fairy tale the master had picked out for me himself.

     I wondered when the master would be back. Being alone by myself made me think too deeply. Daydreaming wasn't something I've been wanting to do, considering the memories from my youth that had been triggered by the Lord had started to plague my every thought for the past few weeks.

     A small hum rang through my chest as I closed the book on my lap. It was early in the afternoon at the lord's castle, and I had started my day by giving him his breakfast and helping him get ready for his midday walk which he was yet to return from. The winter cold was more bearable since it stopped snowing, and I had made it a habit of mine to read at the common room while looking out the large bell-shaped windows behind the lord's favorite settee chair.

     I blew off the strand of hair that floated in front of my face. My hair had grown longer, but I didn't know how to cut it myself, so I let it be. Troy had followed his master on his walk, so the castle was unbearably quiet with Marie also taking a midday nap.

     My eyes shut close, and I drifted into sleep in the armchair. When my eyelids peeled open it was considerably darker. I squinted before widening my eyes when I noticed the Lord was on his settee with a cup of tea in his hands.

     "You've been sleeping for a while. You must really be tired," he muttered when I looked down at the book in my lap. "Did you like the book?" the Lord asked me, making me raise my eyes to meet his. His dark eyes watched me as I held up the books and tightened my grip on its side.

     "I could barely read it," I said, and he laughed. I noticed that Troy was laying on the floor by his feet when the dog raised its head at the sound of the Lord's chuckle.

     "I could help you understand the words you can't make out if you want," he said, letting out a sigh before bringing the china cup to his lips.