Quietus

The Colors of the Gardens

"I'm so happy for you, Heturain" Acaila beamed, and suddenly Heturain wasn't beside her, but walking backwards in front of her.

"Oh, I really should be thanking you! They never would have healed my eyes if you hadn't invited me to your kingdom." Heturain hummed.

Acaila looked at him. He was devouring the world with his newly regained sight, and she could tell that every speck of light or color-nuance was like sprinkles on a cupcake.

But his bright eyes were shadowed with dark circles, and Acaila wondered how he could be so energetic when his eyes looked so tired.

He spun around and laughed, his arms fully extended on both sides. His cloak flowed around him, and Acaila had to step away to avoid getting caught in his tornado.

"The world, Acaila. The world is a beautiful place to be. Don't you think?" He smiled.

Heturain's laughter was contagious, and Acaila found herself chuckling along.

"I quite agree with you." She nodded, unable to stop herself from smiling from ear to ear.

"Acaila. I hope I'm not being too blunt if I share a thought that has been swimming around in my mind ever since I laid eyes on you." Heturain mumbled, calming himself. He was again walking
beside her.

Acaila's heart tripped and stumbled, knocking into the surrounding walls. It was trying to break out of the protection her chest provided, but Acaila would have nothing of it. She pushed it further inside its cage, but nonetheless, she was sure that he could hear its steady thumping.

"Do tell." Acaila smiled, fiddling with the hem of her skirt.

"I imagined you were beautiful." Heturain whispered. He grabbed her hand to stop her where they stood, in the middle of the gardens.

Heturain kept his eyes locked to hers even though they were surrounded by bushes of ripe berries and trees with a variety of colorful fruit. "I was right."

The warmth of his hand crept into her own. His grey mark seemed to sparkle in the light, matching his curly silver-grey hair.

"Heturain..." Acaila whispered, but her voice would not allow her to continue. She wouldn't have known what to say anyway.

He was flirting with her, and Acaila hadn't the faintest idea if she should put emphasis on the word flirting or her.

Acaila's mind was searching for plausible agendas he might've had, but he was a prince in his own right.

"Can we sit?" Heturain asked, and Acaila nodded as they closed in on a white bench.

"Your gardens are beautiful." He commented, devouring the scenery with his eyes. Acaila nodded in agreement when Heturain tried to stifle a yawn.

"Are you bored of my company?" Acaila asked playfully, but her fingers started nervously dancing around the folds on her skirt again.

"Of course not." Heturain responded, looking down at Acaila with a crooked smile.

Heturain would be a splendid match for Acaila. The Grey kingdom had a long history of alliance with the White, they were both royals, and Heturain was one of the only non-appalling princes she knew.

"You're staring. Do I have something in my teeth?" Heturain chuckled and Acaila quickly looked away, her cheeks burning. He wasn't blind anymore, so she would have to learn to be more discreet.

"It's quite alright." He smiled, and when Acaila looked at his face again she once again noticed how exhausted he looked.

He must have pretended to be giddy and excited a few minutes ago, because now he was practically nodding off.

"What have you been up to? To make you so tired?" Acaila wondered as she cocked her head and looked at him.

"I haven't been able to read in a long time." Heturain smiled. "I was up all night."

"You haven't always been blind?" Acaila asked and Heturain gave her a pained expression that lead her to change the topic.

"What did you read?" Acaila wondered.

"I didn't catch the title, but some extravagant love story. Subtle hint of politics, and quite rebellious at that." Heturain responded with yet another yawn.

"Sounds interesting." Acaila chuckled as Heturain struggled to hide his exhaustion.

"I suppose it was." Heturain smiled, leaning his head on Acaila's shoulder.

She stiffened. What was she supposed to do with that?

"Heturain?" Acaila whispered.

"Yes, Acaila?" He mumbled in response.

"Should we go inside? If you are tired, I can follow you to your sleeping quarters?" She proposed.

"Are you uncomfortable?" Heturain asked, his voice deep and distant.

"No." She whispered, and realized that she meant it.

He rested a hand on top of hers.

Had she missed a cue?

He had his head on her shoulder and her hand was cloaked in the warmth provided by his, but their conversation had been so trivial...

"Heturain?" She asked again, but Heturain didn't respond. His breathing was heavy and followed a steady rhythm.

He had fallen asleep so quickly?

Acaila peeked down at their hands. The butterflies in her stomach could some day turn into love for the man - she knew that much.

If he wasn't interested, he was sending very confusing signals, so Acaila couldn't think of any other explanation than that he indeed was interested in her.

She smiled at the thought, until she saw Francis leading two horses from the stables over to some high ranking officials.

Francis hadn't talked with her since their encounter that had followed the failed assault on her.

On the way back to the stalls, Francis noticed her.

The distance between them was more than a hundred feet, but he bowed nonetheless.

Acaila looked at her hand, covered by Heturain's.

Heturain was the right choice.

Acaila knew it, and therefor effectively dismissed the memory of Francis' soft lips against her own.