Kyte
Love is a game of thorns.
Don't get me wrong, Kyte Day was not the most interesting young man in all the land. Similarly, he was not among the dullest. People of Dellhaven often whispered amongst themselves at his mere presence. He was said to be highly and, as many claimed, dangerously intelligent. However, this fact was not what contributed most to his infamy. It was the fact he wasted his life and his sheer talent in becoming a coachman. Yes, a coachman.
However, Kyte viewed this fact about himself in a completely different light than the rest of the city folk. Being a coachman brought some stability and reliability into his life that he had never known before. He had been a child prodigy, but people lost interest in his education upon the death of his grandfather, an upper-nobility aristocrat, who raised him. Years of being the one child in the city who did not attend a formal private or public school or even had regular contact with other children caused him to grown up distraught and alone. Not much had changed socially since he had turned 17 or 18 or even that very year at 19 years of age.
The day his life change, he had been given a task to drive a certain member of the aristocracy, Mrs. Bunton and her son, Isaac, to a local ball held at the castle of Queen Amara. On the evening, just before the first rays of sunset lit the horizon, he set out on his horse drawn buggy for the most Eastern, and most affluent, part of town. The cool October evening whipped his black, shaggy hair from his forehead and gave him a feeling of comfort and readiness.
As he traveled east, the gravel roads gave way to cobble stone and soon Kyte found himself in front of an elaborate mansion that seemed to gleam even in the failing light. The esteemed woman who was descending the marble steps of said mansion was short and had a matronly, yet sophisticated look about her. She had the same air of erudition and kindness that reminded Kyte of his late grandfather that caused him to feel a slight pang in his heart as she drew near. She clambered into the coach with surprising grace and dignity given her late-middle age.
"Good evening," Kyte said as Mrs. Bunton assembled herself on the velvet cushioned seats of the stately buggy. "Is any other person to be coming along with you this evening?"
"My! You are a polite young man!" exclaimed the woman, giving Kyte a sincere smile. Seeming to remember herself she added, "My son Isaac will be joining us momentarily. Oh! Look, he comes now."
Approaching the coach strolled one of the most fabulous individuals Kyte had ever laid eyes on. Isaac Bunton was tall and slender individual with snowy yellow hair. If a color could be both gold and silver at the same moment, that color would best describe the glory of the young man's hair. He wore a matching pair of dark navy trousers and jacket that made his look as if he had come from both power and prestige. The gold fasteners on his jacket further accented this appearance.
"Hello, there," Isaac smirked as he entered the buggy alongside his mother. It was not the sort of arrogant smirk you would expect from a wealthy 20 year old man. Rather, it displayed a sense of playfulness most dignitaries lack. He seemed to take an immediate notice of Kyte.
"We should best be off; no one else besides the two of us is going to this ball from the estate."
"Of course, sir," replied Kyte in the usual, respectful manner that was typically expected of him.
"No need to call me 'sir'…" Isaac mumbled as he laid his head back upon the seat.
"As you wish."
The ride was anything but typical. The strange old woman seemed to make conversation out of every bit of information she processed from the color of the sky to the scenery, to the villages that the party traveled through. Kyte felt she was not being bluntly polite, rather she was social and took a legitimate interest of all people she came in extended contact with.
"Look at that sky! I have never seen such a deep and charming blue in all my years! What is your name, by the way...?"
"My name is Kyte Whiteson, ma'am."
"Kyte, the color of the sky is the same color of those lovely eyes of yours!" she exclaimed, rather honestly. "Don't you agree, Isaac?"
This woman has some amazing sight if she can see the coloring of my eyes in this lighting.
Isaac had had his eyes closed and his head still tilted against the back of his seat at this moment. Without moving (or opening his eyes for that matter) he simply replied, "He does have lovely eyes, Mother."
Kyte had never blushed so fiercely in his life. Had this boy just complemented his appearance? This strange, handsome boy?
Why do I feel this way? My heart has never pounded so fast in my life. I feel as if I wish to run away, yet have this moment with me forever. What a foolish way to feel over a simple and, most likely, empty, compliment! At least this darkening twilight prevents him from seeing me blush!
Soon enough, the party pulled before the grand, silver castle of Queen Amara of Dellhaven. The wealthy matron in the back wished Kyte a good night before slipping from the seat with as much refinement as she has entered it with. She took a few steps forward and was immediately drawn into conversation with a rather impressive looking old man with a long white beard and top hat.
Isaac had not moved.
Is he asleep?
"Sir… I mean…"
The man's eyes immediately shot open. Kyte registered the fact they were a grayish violet color. He was suppressed by what the man would do next.
He leaned in close to Kyte over the seat and practically whispered in his ear, "I have not formally introduced myself; my name is Issac Bunton. I have a strange feeling we will be meeting again, soon, Kyte Whiteson."
With that he left the coach and Kyte could have sworn that Isaac was wearing the same charming smirk he had on the moment he had first heard him speak.
As Kyte brought the buggy and horses down the street (for it would take far too long to drive all the way home and return before the end of the night) he could not keep the cluttering thoughts from suffocating his mind.
Isaac.Isaac.Isaac.
Perhaps he was simply being polite, but there is something about the way he acts… he takes my breath from my lungs as he speaks to me. He fills me with terror and excitement. Who is this man? And what exactly does he have planned for us that will require us to 'meet again'?
