Chapter 37
His whisper was shattered by an ear-splitting whoop. Dazzled by the noise that pricked at her ears like little stinging bees, Bella wheeled around and felt the edges of her mouth curl up in a smile as she spotted the tall, lanky boy that pushed through the crowd with immovable determination.
She could barely hear him over the din. Feet, stomping and banging against ground and wood, made the whole platform shake. Fists pounded approval on the stage. Faces, obscured by darkness, flashed into clarity as they moved closer to the light. Beyond the glow, Bella saw a flash of silver where a soldier was standing, trying to push his way up to the dais. Women shouted. Men hooted. Children, half-mad with a glee that they did not quite understand, ran wild through legs and feet, scampering to and fro in a frenzy of chaos and noise. She heard Edward's laughter— felt his shaking arms pull her away from the edge of the stage where probing fingers stretched out to touch any bit of her they could reach— and she went gratefully. Prying fingers became groping hands, and just as the boy leapt up onto the stage Bella saw the soldiers arrive, blocking those grasping hands from getting any closer. Their presence did not deter the people— indeed, Bella saw more than one brazen well-wisher reach his fingers around the soldiers, only to have his hand slapped away and his place taken by another, better-behaved reveler.
"You never said a word!" Jasper bellowed and Bella watched as the boy's fist struck out like a snake to bite Edward's arm. Edward, unmoved by this violence, only laughed. "You didn't tell me a thing!"
Edward spoke back, grinning and glad, but his reply was lost in the tumult of noise. Jasper scowled at his brother, though without any real malice, and turned instead to Bella, who let herself be drawn into the circle of his arms without protest.
He was almost as tall as his brother, though still too lanky and long, and he squeezed Bella with more unabashed enthusiasm than Edward would have dared before all of these spectators. He thumped her back hard enough to make her wince and pull away with a grimace, only to have him throw her a roguish wink, clutching her hand instead.
The wild crowd was fed another bit of their happiness when Jasper held up their joined hands in triumph, making the crescendo of noise rise even higher. Bella let him do it— let him revel in the joyful attention of his people for just a moment longer— before she carefully extricated herself and let Edward pull her back.
"I am very glad," said Jasper, leaning down to her ear. Edward laughed again. "I am very, very, very glad…"
Bella knew he would be. She had known it since the moment her decision was made. She had known it long ago, in the throne room of the castle, when the two of them had been brought before the King, one for a reprieve and the other for a reprimand.
"She is not ours, Jasper…" Edward had said. "She is not ours."
"But she could be…"
And now, she would be.
The noise and confusion was such that Bella, thinking back on that night in the days that followed, was not entirely certain how they had managed to step down from the stage. All around them people thronged, gawking, shouting, or reaching out hands in desperate supplication. As they had before, when she'd left the city for Carlisle's cabin, they touched the hem and skirt of her gown. Children pressed countless sticky kisses to her hands and fingers. Bodies crowded so close that she could not see the road ahead. But leave the platform they did, descending the stairs beside the fountain to walk in and among the crowd, who, while drawn to the attraction of their King and his intended, began to disperse somewhat as the torches behind them were finally put out.
Bella could not say how far they walked. She did not know how long they walked. She only knew that they did walk, through streets, and squares, and alleys, until they came upon a plaza that she had never seen before where there were the beginnings of a great and raucous party.
During the daytime, the King's New Year had been about merrimaking. Girls dressed in their finest to buy from market stalls, and young, eager couples went chaperoned through the streets, desperate to catch a spare moment alone. Children ran wild, unsupervised by parents yet somehow safe beneath the eyes of salesmen, neighbours, and fellow revellers who ensured that no real mischief was undertaken by the small fry. Friendship was the focus and food made up the soul, and such a bountiful array of company and flavour Bella had never experienced before or after.
But at night, when the sun went down, there was another kind of party altogether.
Edward, grinning like a lovestruck fool, did not release her hand the whole time they walked. Bella was grateful for it— the city at night was a dazzling place and though she'd walked the main streets many times in daylight, there was a disorienting unfamiliarity about it once the sun had disappeared behind the mountains. Long shadows cast roads into blackness where friendly stalls and sellers had stood not hours before. Children, scampering underfoot until they were caught by frazzled parents, were returned to cabins and homes with bright eyes and pockets full of candied sweets. For them, the day of fun was ended. Masks were set aside, dirty hands and faces scrubbed with soap and warm, soft cloths. Nightclothes were donned, hair was brushed and plaited, and finally, after a celebratory mug of hot, sweet tea, the little ones were sent to bed where they slept soundly and dreamed of other feasts to come.
While they walked Bella had watched the children trickle away. Babes in arms, toddlers on shoulders or hips, and older children— some walking and alert, others fast asleep in Father's arms— all disappeared into the warmth of home. Some of the older children, among the youngest of whom were Alice and Jasper, were allowed to stay out with the grown ups, and Bella did not miss how they seemed to delight in this fact.
In the square, where the remaining adults were gathering, there was another kind of fun brewing.
The square was long and narrow, lined on either side by closed-up shops that catered to the wealthy patrons of the city's west end. Here, the ground was not only packed dirt and rocks, but polished cobblestones buffed smooth and level upon which someone had built up three massive, billowing fires. Though they were large, they were well clear of any buildings that might be damaged or threatened, and though they were only newly set, they blazed with a stunning brilliance that warmed the rapidly cooling nighttime air. Bella watched in amazement, unaware of Edward's fond and curious gaze on her, and let the brilliance wash over her like a baptism of light that cleansed any tiredness from her sore and weary bones.
Three armfuls of wood were tossed on the nearest pyre and Bella gasped aloud, watching as the bright and familiar orange became at once green and purple and blue.
"Driftwood," said Edward in an undertone, bending close to her ear. "The sea water makes the fire change colours. Do you like it?"
"It's lovely," said Bella, thinking at once of the same green glow she'd seen on the sands of First Beach. "I used to have fires like this when I was little."
This small shared memory— so fleeting and monumental in its own way— made both of them grin like fools. They stood by it together, letting the warmth wash away the chill of night, and when they were both pink-faced and hot to the touch, they stepped reluctantly away. Bella held her cool hands to her overheated cheeks, feeling the redness recede as the plaza began to fill with people trickling in from the large, stone roads on either end.
"There are drinks," said Edward, pointing to a stall lined with torches that had only just been lit. Already there were men thronging around it and coins littering the counter. "And there will be more food, once the music starts…"
Bella, despite her blooming college education, had never, in her whole life, set foot inside a college party. She had been invited, of course— she was not so much of an antisocial recluse that she'd never been asked out for drinks and music— but she was too studious, too wary, to take anyone up on it. She had walked by houses that throbbed in time with an upbeat pop song, and by frat houses all decked out with lewd banners and signs. She'd been by pubs, where old men drank beer and listened to country songs, and by nightclubs where Seattle's elite lined up around the block for their chance at some fun. She'd had wine with dinner, and dinner with friends, but never, in all her life, had Bella seen anything to rival this moonlit plaza filled with colours and light and smells.
He walked her to the bar stall, where the crowd parted like the Red Sea before Moses. Edward hardly noticed the way the eyes tracked them, bowing deeply until the pair of them had passed, and although he tried to pay for his drink and hers, the bartender would not have it.
"Bah!" cried the man, and he flipped Edward's gold coin away with a grimace. "Bah!"
Edward, already drunk on his own cheer, laughed out loud.
"I must pay you," he reasoned, pushing the little coin back. The barman recoiled as if there was a bad smell. "I can't drink your wine if you refuse to take payment!"
"Celebrate!" hollered the man, and the crowd behind them hooted and cheered. "It is a celebration, My King!"
"Here, man…"
"Celebrate!"
He thrust a wooden cup at Edward so quickly that its scarlet contents sloshed over the rim and dripped onto Edward's fingers. Edward brought the brimming cup to his lips and drank some, ignoring the red, sticky trail it left on his hands. For Bella, the man poured a yellow, fruity wine that smelled of pears and coconut, and he did not thrust it at her as he had to Edward, but let her take it shyly in two hands before she took an experimental sip.
The wine was cooler than she'd expected it to be, and that coolness felt wonderful as it slid across her tongue. She did not know where the wine was from, nor what fruits had gone into its making, but the taste was light and sweet, like someone had trapped sunshine in a cup. The bubbles surprised her— she had not tasted anything remotely like carbonation during her time on the island, and though they tickled her mouth and made her nose wrinkle, she drank nearly half her cup in one great gulp.
Edward laughed at her, eying her with deep amusement.
"If you keep that up," he said, "you'll be dead drunk before midnight. And I must say… I've no desire for you to miss anything that's going to happen here tonight."
Already Bella felt a flush of warmth across her chest and arms.
As they moved back towards the fires, away from the bar crowded with guests, Bella and Edward wandered into the far side of the pavillion, away from the noise and hubbub and towards the two small figures standing near the furthest fire, heads bent and lips whispering.
"Jasper," Edward said and the children glanced up in tandem. Jasper was awash with undisguised pleasure, and he leapt forward at once to draw Bella into another tight embrace. Edward took her cup just in time to stop him spilling it, and he winked playfully at Alice who watched their exchange with shy and quiet eyes.
"Finally, a sister," said Jasper with relish. Bella giggled at the relief in his voice. "Finally a real, actual sister."
"A real one?" she queried, raising a questioning brow. "Do you have… imaginary ones?"
"Tens and dozens," said Jasper cheerfully. "We always wanted a sister, didn't we, Ed?"
"Perhaps in days long past," he agreed. "But I will gain no such thing."
"Bully for me, then," teased Jasper. "All the better for me."
Bella, glad to feel both wanted and appreciated, pressed a quick kiss to the apple of his cheek. Jasper froze, astonished at this development, and blinked so stupidly at her that she had to laugh outright. He touched the spot with the pads of his fingers, looking dumbstruck, and Edward snickered wickedly from behind. Bella turned to him with a frown, but her silent scolding had no effect whatsoever.
Edward was unmoved by either her scorn or Jasper's embarrassment. He simply chortled, letting Bella take her cup once more, and turned instead to Alice.
"Did my brother treat you well?" he asked kindly and the child nodded, turning red.
"He did, My King."
"Was he kind?"
"Very."
"And gentlemanly?"
At once, Bella saw Alice's face flame red.
"Indeed he was," she said softly, and Bella, her curiosity piqued, cocked her head. Alice met her gaze for only a moment, looking both proud and shameful, but offered no other comment.
Bella filed this away for later, but said nothing of it before either of the men.
"You be good to her, you hear?" Edward said, turning his eye on Jasper. Jasper, looking affronted, did not respond. "I'm trusting you, Jasper. Make sure you do me proud."
At once, Bella saw Jasper stand up a little straighter. He eyed his brother with a maturity that she hadn't seen from him before, and the two of them turned to look at little Alice. Bella felt a prickle of pity for her— beneath the staring, serious gazes of both King and Prince she seemed to wither, shrinking down so far that she almost disappeared into the shadows.
"Honestly," said Bella, reaching out to take the girl's hand. Alice latched on at once, her fingers quivering. "You scare her half to death."
Edward had the good grace to look away. Jasper, however, stepped closer.
"Not afraid, are you Ali?" he asked. Alice shook her head defiantly. "I didn't think so…"
The trembling fingers on Bella's hand told a different story, but Bella had no wish to embarrass the girl. When Alice released her Bella let her go, watching as she stepped closer to the Prince, though not so close so as to be inappropriate.
"Can we drink, Ed?" asked Jasper in the quiet and Edward, snapped out of some inexplicable daydream, took the question in. He eyed the two of them— not quite children, but not quite grown— and looked askance at Bella.
"Don't ask me," she said at once, holding up her hands in surrender. "I've got no opinion on the matter…"
"Alice is under your charge," Edward reasoned. "It is up to you what she is and isn't allowed to do."
Bella glanced at him, surprised by this opinion.
"She's the agent of her own free will," Bella replied. "If she wants a drink, and it is permissible to you, then I don't object."
"Permissible to me?"
"Allowed," Bella frowned. "Permitted… legal."
"I know what permissible means."
"Then I don't understand the question," Bella finished. "If you will allow it, then…"
"I do not have the authority," Edward said with a funny little frown and a chuckle that was the product of his own strong wine. "I cannot decide what is best for her."
"And I can?"
"She is your charge."
Her charge. Bella glanced at Alice, who watched her with wide, nervous eyes. The child looked uncomfortable, as if she were not quite sure who she should be asking, and all at once Bella felt a renewed sense of great responsibility.
"When do children drink wine here?" Bella asked and Edward, still holding on to his funny little frown, shrugged his shoulders.
"Some start young, others not at all," he said. "It depends on the parent…"
"Is he allowed a drink?" Bella asked, jerking her chin at Jasper. He, unlike Alice, was completely unperturbed by this strange exchange of words, and instead bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet. Edward eyed him cautiously, as if sizing up whether he were truly ready for such a grown-up entitlement, and seemed to hesitate over his decision.
"Oh come on…" Jasper pleaded, his lip between his teeth. "We're more than old enough…"
Edward sighed.
"I suppose you are," he conceded finally, and Jasper looked as if he would leap with joy. He snatched Alice by the hand. "But only a few, mind you… you're not to get drunk, you hear?"
"Not drunk," agreed Jasper. "Only a few…"
He was already walking away.
"And you stay with her!" Edward called after him. "If I hear you've left her, you'll be in trouble there aren't words for!"
But before he could finish Jasper was gone, disappearing into the crowd so that the final words of Edward's warning fell on deaf ears. Bella watched them go, his light head towering over Alice's dark one, until they became two moving spots within a sea of movement and colour, lost among the bodies that flocked at the distant end.
"He's half wild, that boy," complained Edward once they were left alone again. Bella sipped her wine. "He hardly stands still long enough to hear sense."
"He's just a boy," Bella reasoned, and she turned her head up to survey him. He was not looking at her— a rare and unusual occurrence— and Bella took a moment to look at him, instead. Her head was leaning against him on that junction between arm and chest and she had to strain her neck to see. In the flickering firelight she could see the line of his jaw, so square and hard, and the line of fine, reddish whiskers where he'd stopped his shaving knife. Beneath his chin, where the sun did not touch him, was white, soft, and smooth, such a contrast to his tanned and ruddy cheeks that she almost reached up to run her finger across his throat. She did resist, though, for she knew that he was ticklish, and settled instead for reaching up and around his broad and heavy chest. Her hand snuck around his back instead, her arm reaching as far as it would go until it rested on his waist, leaving her pressed snugly to his warm, soft tunic.
When he felt her fingers his gaze snapped away from the crowd, turning instead to her as she lay comfortably against him, her arm about his waist.
"We'd shock people, if they saw us so close," he said after a long moment, though he made no move to pull away. "They'd think me quite a rogue."
"And what would they say of me?" she asked, tilting her head back up. Her face was close to his— closer than it had ever been before— and she could smell the hot, heady wine on his breath. He blinked at her, a playful glint dancing in the green of his eyes, and she saw him swallow before he let out a deep and noisy sigh.
"They'd say you were a saint," he said, and she felt him reach around to touch the arm about his waist. He disentangled her fingers from his tunic— slid them one by one into the palm of his own hand— and when he pulled her arm away altogether she felt the quick and bitter sting of rejection.
He saw it at once, catching the flicker of shame and embarrassment that crossed her face in an instant, and squashed it before it had the chance to root.
"No," he said, and he brought her fingers to his lips. She shivered— his lips were warm, and her hands were cold, and he lingered there for a moment longer than he ought to, leaving a scalding, burning spot where his mouth had touched.
"I'd keep you here for an eternity if I thought I could get away with it," he murmured, holding her fingers to his face. Bella, without quite knowing how she did, heard a soft and quiet longing in his gentle words. It sounded like want, like a deep and desperate yearning for something close, yet unattainable, and with a thrill that shook her from her head to her toes, she knew instinctively just what it was that he wanted.
He tilted her chin to face him.
"I'd keep you, and touch you, and kiss you silly if I thought I could," he went on. "Don't think I don't want you, Bella… I've never wanted anything more in my life. It's your honour I'm worried about… I'd not insult you or degrade you for all the gold in my Kingdom."
"I'm not insulted," she said at once, and to his dismay and her delight, she stood on tiptoe to press herself nearer. She saw his resolve waver. "I'm not degraded."
"Not yet." He pulled away with a sigh. "Not yet, Bella. But even my control is not limitless, and I'd not risk it for all the world."
He pulled away again and pressed another kiss to her knuckle, and Bella, knowing she was defeated, gave in with a sigh. He did not let her lean on him again— that, apparently, would be tempting fate— but he did offer her his arm, which she took rather greedily.
"Come," he said, and they stepped back into the glow of the fire. "Come and hear the music, Bella, for the songs are merry and the evening is still young."
The wily youth of evening transformed quickly into the mysterious wisdom of night, and both passed by in a frenzied blur of colour and song.
Melodies played from strings and wood. Drums, placed around fires and fountains, beat rhythms out of sticks and stones. Flutes sang like birds among the rafters, whistling and chirping until the crowd went wild, and Bella watched the whole thing with bright, fascinated eyes and a belly full of cool, sweet wine.
Bella had never been what one might call graceful. She had never been light on her feet, nor had she been particularly adept when it came to physical challenges. She was not a dancer— not in any sense of the word— and the height of her experience had come at the tender age of ten, when she'd left the stage crying after falling flat on her face at Madam Polly's junior ballet recital.
So when Edward, begging her with bright, desperate eyes, had asked her dance, Bella had been justifiably and unrelentingly horrified.
"Not a chance!" she'd shouted, laughing over the din of the music. All around her skirts were flying in frightful whirls and spins. "Not a chance, Edward… you'd have to carry me home in pieces!"
Instead Bella had sat on a bench of polished stone, watching the merrimaking from her place in the shadows.
As King, Edward had no choice but to dance at his own New Year's party. Bella watched with deep and not entirely wholesome amusement as he was passed from guest to guest, taking women by the hands and standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his fellow men. Jasper joined him, as did Alice, and together as one great writhing mass, Bella watched as each dancer moved in particular patterns and lines. She couldn't follow any of it— not at the first, when she was dazzled by their skill, and definitely not after she'd finished her third cup of wine.
It was when she felt the onset of that familiar, calming fog deep in the back of her brain that was brought on by wine and tiredness that Bella finally felt her limbs relax into a semblance of ease and peace. Her body felt warm, despite the chill of night, and though she felt herself growing more and more uninhibited, it did not stop her from enjoying cup after cup of the seemingly endless pale vintage.
"You look red in the face, Bella," came a voice at her back and Bella, jerked roughly from her own daydreams, wheeled around with a start. Rosalie watched her sheepishly, her head bowed and her arm braced at her back and Bella, feeling both awkward and happy, moved over enough to give her room to sit
Rosalie was quiet as she lowered herself down, watching Bella from the corner of her eye with mild interest until Bella turned with sudden courage to look her full in the face.
Whatever Rosalie saw there— whatever unusual and unabashed wine-induced bravery she saw in Bella— made her quick to speak.
"I'm sorry," said Rosalie at once and Bella, forgetting what she'd meant to say, simply watched her. "I'm sorry for getting surly…"
"You weren't surly," Bella said at once. "I was nosy."
"Even so…" Bella felt Rosalie's fingers on hers and she did not complain when they were twined together, Rosalie's thumb tracing patterns on the back of her hand. "Even so, Bella. I was too hasty, and you were not wrong."
"Forget it," Bella said at once. "Consider it done…"
"I can't consider it done," Rosalie chuckled, her long braid falling loose from its pins. It tumbled over her shoulder, slapping Bella's arm on the way down, and Bella became entranced by it at once, loosing her hand to take it up instead.
Rosalie only watched her, her seriousness broken by a strong and furious urge to laugh. She gave in after a brief struggle, and Bella turned at once to see what was so funny.
"You're drunk," accused Rose with a laugh. Bella frowned, but Rose took her cup and sniffed it. "A fine honey wine… and a strong honey wine."
Bella snatched her cup back, determining that she would not lower herself to give a reply. Rosalie continued to survey her, her shrewd eyes falling from her bright eyes to her flushed and heated cheeks, before they fell on her tapping feet, which danced in time to the music.
"You don't dance?" she asked when Bella kept mum. "You don't…"
She glanced surreptitiously at the dancers, who were all moving in a strange and precise formation that Bella could not comprehend.
"...salta?"
"I don't know what salta is," said Bella with a sniff. "And anyhow… I don't dance. They'd have to scrape me off the floor if I so much as tried."
"I envy you," said Rose with a laugh. Bella glanced out at the crowd again, picking out Edward's ruddy hair from his place near the fire, and saw him beside his brother, who partnered Alice. Next to Jasper was Emmett, who stood across from a mystery woman Bella didn't know.
"I love dancing," Rose went on. "I'd be out there in a trice if I wasn't such a liability. I wish I didn't like it, though… it would make the evening that much more enjoyable."
Beneath Rose's pale pink dress, standing out like a sore thumb, was the great, round orb of her belly. Bella was instantly distracted, watching for the telltale signs of movement that had become quite commonplace in these last weeks, and was rewarded with a protruding knee or elbow. Rosalie, neither drunk nor drinking, saw Bella's gaze and grinned, taking her hand again.
"You can feel him well, now," she said. She pressed Bella's palm to the far side of her stomach. "Just there… you can feel a foot."
Bella didn't know how Rose knew it was a foot, but when she pressed her probing fingers into the soft, taut flesh, she did feel a protuberance that felt very much like an appendage of some kind.
"You could feel his head up until a day or so ago," she went on, and Bella saw, though her fingers did not follow, how Rose's hand cupped the underside of the globe instead. She rubbed it softly, as if to ease the weight of it, but only sighed and turned back to her friend.
"I am happy for you, Bella," she went on. "Emmett and I were in the crowd as the King spoke from the platform. I am very, very happy for you."
At once, as if doused by a measure of cold, icy water, Bella felt her senses return all at once as her lips pulled up in a smile. Rosalie saw the change and beamed at her, looking as if she might cry, but was so startled by Bella's fervent embrace that she held off.
"I'm happy too, Rose," she whispered. Bella felt that kicking baby against her own belly, now. "I'm so very happy, you don't even know."
Rosalie, bright-eyed and teary, looked out to the crowd of dancers and sighed. Bella knew at once where her gaze had fallen— even from this distance, Emmett towered over the rest— and the two of them watched him for a moment before Rose spoke again.
"I have some idea," she said, clearing her throat and turning her head. "I think I know a little about happiness."
For the rest of the evening Bella sat with Rosalie on that warm, stone bench, heads bent together and all past ills forgotten. They spoke together— long, spirited, hopeful conversations that left both of them dreaming of the future— and they were so engrossed that they hardly noticed the party winding down. They laughed together, as they were so apt to do, and they giggled like schoolgirls over wine and cheese, and though the music played on and their cups were kept full, Bella was startled when, well after midnight, the band went silent and the square began to clear.
"Is it so late?" Bella asked in surprise when Rosalie, pale with tiredness, turned to stare at the empty bandstand. "Is it already so late?"
"It is well past witching hour," yawned Rosalie. "Well past time for any decent people to be up and about…"
"We are plenty decent, I assure you of that," came Emmett's voice. Rosalie and Bella both started, Bella snapping round and Rosalie turning slowly, and he grinned down at the both of them, eying Bella's empty cup.
"I've been sent," said Emmett in a whisper. "I've been dispatched to fetch you."
"Me?" Bella asked, blinking up at him as he helped Rosalie from the bench. "What do you want with me?"
"I?" he queried. "Nothing at all. But the King…"
He jerked his head towards the shadows, where Bella could only just make out a silhouette in the darkness.
"I expect he's got something to say to you."
"He does?"
Emmett laughed at her.
"Yes, you goose. He does. Now go on and see him so I can get this lady home."
Rosalie sighed when she stood, looking for all the world as if she'd rather sleep right there on the pavillion bench.
"You'll be alright?" Bella asked worriedly. "Walking all that way?"
"I'd like to see her," Emmett scoffed, and Bella saw behind him a crude-looking wagon, hitched to an unpleasantly familiar horse. She grinned to see the creature tied so, looking for all the world like a common plough animal, and felt a cheerful, if not entirely wholesome, pleasure at the sight.
Bella did not like Emmett's headstrong horse.
"You're a darling," said Rosalie with relish, eying the cart with obvious relief. "I don't think I could walk half a block, much less across the city."
"Your carriage awaits," he said, giving her a quick, playful bow. "I'll help you up. We won't bother with Finn tonight… he'll be sound asleep with Mrs. What's-Her-Face next door, and it won't do to wake him."
Rosalie's groan of pleasure at this news was almost too loud— Bella saw a few heads turn to look and Emmett flushed delightfully pink when they did.
"Come on," he chuckled, whisking her away before she could make another such sound. "Come on. We'll be home in a trice…"
Home. The word made Bella smile, and she watched them go with satisfied pride until the wagon and its cargo disappeared around a bend in the cobbles. Rosalie waved at her all the way, bouncing along among the blankets and the straw, and just as they began to move towards the road that would bring them east, Bella saw Rosalie flop down comfortably onto the plush, hay-strewn floor.
After Emmett and Rose had gone, Bella looked around the pavillion and saw that she was among the last revellers in the great, but finally quiet, pavillion. The bonfires, which had blazed so strong earlier in the night, had burned down to glowing cinders over the course of the evening. The bar stall was closed— Bella could see the barman mopping the wood and setting barrels of wine and ale upright to cork them— and the building from which the food had come was dark and shuttered. There were a few people left— a man, fallen over drunk and snoring on a barstool, a woman giggling and flirting with one of the rowdier dancers, and a boy not much older than Jasper, with dark hair and pale skin, vomiting into a bush at the far end of the square.
Bella blinked in mild surprise, wondering when and where all the people had gone.
"We are out late, Bella," came a voice from her rear, and with a shock that almost made her yelp, Bella leapt away from the noise. She felt Edward's steadying hands on her shoulders, keeping her upright and steady, and when she wheeled to look him full in the face she saw his own wine-soaked smile tinged with quiet, amused apology.
"I'm sorry," he said lowly, and Bella let him draw her in. "I didn't mean to frighten you… did Emmett tell you where I was?"
"In the shadow," she murmured, feeling her heart racing in her throat. She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling his warm hands at her back. "He said you were waiting…"
"So I was," he said. "But what were you doing?"
Bella felt a giggle bubble up in her throat.
"Watching," she said stupidly, "and forgetting everything that Emmett said… where are all the people?"
"In bed," laughed Edward. "Sleeping, as we should be. Are you very tired?"
"Not very," she said honestly. "A little, I suppose, but that might just be the wine…"
"Indeed, you might be right," he replied. "Wine makes fools of us all, I think."
Bella shook her head.
"You're no fool," she said at once. "And neither am I."
"I'm glad you think so."
"I do."
Silence fell between them and Bella, feeling wholly relaxed, felt herself go limp. Edward watched her with some concern, but Bella put him off at once when she cracked open a sharp, quick eye.
"Where is Alice?" Bella queried softly. "Is she here?"
"No," said Edward. "She's gone home. She would have told you, but you were talking with Rosalie."
"Good, good…"
"I'm afraid she might not be up for service tomorrow," he said. Bella felt, rather than heard, his breathy chuckle. "We told them to have a few, but it seems that a few was a few too many for Alice's tender stomach."
"Is she very sick?" Bella asked sympathetically. "Should we go back?"
"No, she'll be perfectly well," soothed Edward. "I had Jasper take her home, and I told him to fetch Marta. She'll take wonderful care of her."
"Did she have fun?" Bella murmured. "I barely even spoke to her…"
"She seemed to have a marvellous time," said Edward. "I couldn't pull Jasper away from her, even if I tried. I think they might be friends, now."
"Friends," said Bella, her voice thick and slow. "Sure. Friends."
Edward shot her a peculiar look.
"Ignore me," she groaned. "As Rosalie pointed out… I might be a little inebriated."
"I see…"
She buried her face in his chest.
"We will soon be alone with the crickets and the drunks," she said, glancing around at the man still snoring on the bartop. The vomiting boy had disappeared. "Perhaps we should go, too…"
"Are you tired?" asked Edward again. "Should we go back to the castle?"
It was Bella's turn to look surprised, her brow furrowed as she tried to sort him out.
"Where else would we go?" she wondered out loud. "Where else could we go?"
Edward grinned at her.
"I have an idea," he said, and for the first time, Bella thought he sounded nervous. "I've got an idea, but I want it to be a surprise."
"A surprise?"
"Yes…"
"For me?"
"Yes, for you." He traced his finger down her cheek. "Always for you."
Bella thought this over.
"Is it a good surprise?"
"I think so."
"Is it a fun surprise?"
"Why don't you come and find out?" he challenged. "It's a bit of a ride, and I know it's late, but…"
"Ride?"
"Emmett was kind enough to send for Magnus when he brought his own horse," said Edward. "He's waiting for us at the gate."
"Waiting for us?"
"Yes."
"At this time?"
"Yes…"
"Where are we going?"
He watched her then, with such an intense and scrutinizing gaze that Bella, feeling hot and foolish, felt her mouth fall closed. His fingers, gentle and probing, tickled the underside of her chin until she looked up and met him, the vibrant green glowing under the cascade of moonlight that had replaced the glow of flame. He surveyed her, looked so intently at her that Bella almost squirmed, and when he spoke, she felt the wash of warm breath across her face. He smelled like clean soap and hot, red wine and the smell of it made her feel drunk all over again. His words were like honey, so warm and sticky that she could almost taste them, and she felt her heartbeat in her throat and in her chest.
"Do you trust me, Bella?"
Her answer was quick, and it came almost without thought.
"Yes," she said, her voice clear. "Yes, Edward. I trust you."
They rode together on Magnus, tearing through the black countryside like bandits on the run.
The city was nothing but a pillar of darkness behind them. The path, worn smooth by centuries of pounding hooves and feet, was a long, winding stripe ahead. The air had grown cool, untouched by fire or dancing to keep it lively and warm, but the breeze was delicious as it washed over Bella's face and arms. Her hair was streaming, blowing madly in the wind over Edward's shoulders, and though she felt his strong, solid arms on either side to keep her upright, she felt for all the world like she was flying.
This flight did not bring her fear. This flight did not bring her sorrow. This flight was glorious— as if she soared among birds and butterflies in the glittering nighttime sky, where the ground was but a pock on the sapphire sea, and there was nothing at all to stop her but the misty white of clouds.
She closed her eyes as they moved, Magnus' hooves stamping a furious rhythm beneath them, and she laughed— so loudly and so often that Edward, delighting in her own happiness, chuckled along with her.
When they stopped Bella felt dizzy with exultation, her face flushed with excitement and her eyes bright with a maddening curiosity.
"Where are we?" she asked softly, and Edward, pulling Magnus towards a stump at the edge of a towering treeline, helped her down. Her legs were shaky— an hour's hard ride combined with her own lingering unsteadiness made for a careful moment of reorientation when she tried to get her feet back under her.
Edward did not answer, but began to tie the horse to a long tether at the base of that stump. He took a saddle bag down from the pommel— a large and laden bag to which Bella paid no mind— and swung it up on his back.
"Come," he said. "It's not far now. We must walk from here, though… there is no other place to leave the horse."
Bella took his hand without question.
They walked together, their stride slow and gentle, as they moved through the tall, spindly trees. Bella felt her heart race— she remembered how trees like this looked in the dark— but as they walked together, hand-in-hand, she felt her anxieties falling away. This was not like last time— there were no pursuers to chase her, there was a wide, defined path to follow, and though these trees were very like the ones that had trapped her at the mountain's base, these were sparser, and more widely spread. The shadows they cast were eerie, but when she looked up to the clear, black sky, she could see constellations of stars and the face of the glowing, silver moon.
She shivered and Edward, looking down at her with concern, stopped their progression.
"It's rather cool," he said softly, and he swung the bag down from his shoulder. Bella watched curiously as he opened the buckles, folding the soft leather back on itself to reveal an assortment of cloth and fabric, all piled pell-mell at the bottom of the bag.
He dug for a moment, his arm buried elbow-deep in the pile, before he came back with something long and dark. Bella could not make it out and only by feeling it with the tips of her fingers did she discern the wool, but when he wrapped it around her shoulders she felt warmed at once, the soft, wispy fabric tickling her neck and chest.
"That should do you for a time," he said. "We're not far now, and we'll be very warm soon enough."
Bella did not know what he meant by that, but she followed quietly after him when he led them further into the trees.
They did not talk as they walked along, but Bella did not miss the chatter in the quiet hush of night. The path they walked sloped up a gentle hill, lined on either side by bowers of tall grass and wildflowers, and though Bella could not see them clearly in the overwhelming darkness, she smelled their perfume as they were crushed underfoot. Edward's long legs moved quickly— a fact to which he soon became aware— and he soon slowed his pace to let her keep up.
It was not long before Bella's curiosity rose again. They came to a shallow curve in the road, beyond which she could hear a curious and noisy rushing sound, but Edward stopped so suddenly that Bella ran right into the back of him.
"Cover your eyes," he said at once, catching her before she fell. Bella frowned up at him. "Please cover your eyes."
Feeling rather suspicious but altogether too curious to resist him, Bella brought her fingers up to shade her eyes.
"Now I will fall down," she complained, though Edward only snorted. "I am notoriously unsteady…"
"I won't let you fall," he said, and she felt his hands on her waist. "Come where I lead you, and promise me you won't peek."
"I won't," she vowed, "but won't you tell me where we're going?"
"We're nearly there," he replied, and she felt an impulsive kiss at her temple. "We're nearly there, and then you'll see for yourself. I promise you'll like it, if you'll only trust me."
"I do trust you," she said again, and she felt his hands begin to push. She went where he led her, minding the stones and dips that he pointed out beneath her feet, and before long, she heard the rushing grow louder. She walked uphill— a steeper hill than the last— and before she knew it, she felt the dirt beneath her feet turn to hard, slippery stone.
"Is it wet?" she asked at once, for she felt a warm, misty drizzle on her face. "Is it raining?"
"Not raining, no," said Edward. "Just a little further…"
The rocks felt slick and she walked as slowly as she dared. Her sandals, wet through with damp, slid against the stone and she gasped, clutching his hands to stop herself falling.
"You're well," he assured her, pushing her gently to the left. "Quite well, sweetheart. Don't worry. You won't fall in."
"In?"
"To the left," he said, ignoring the question. "Just a bit further…"
Bella, determined to have this rigmarole finished, obeyed him as quickly as she dared.
"There," said Edward, and she felt him release her once her feet had found steady purchase on a flat bit of rock. "There, now."
"We're here?"
"We're here," he said. "We're here, Bella. Now open your eyes."
She lowered her hands at once and opened her eyes, blinking into the moonlight to cast her gaze upon a marvellous sight.
In a hollow in the trees, where the dirt had turned to stone, there stood a great, round basin carved deep into the earth. Trees towered all around, their tops reaching high into the sky, but their canopy did not arch over and moonlight filtered unfettered to the glistening, rocky ground. Steam rose in smoky billows from the great depths below, and Bella gasped aloud when she saw the great, thundering cascade.
For that great depth was filled with steaming, bubbling water, stirred to a great, turbulent storm by a tall and thundering waterfall.
"What is this place?" Bella asked, her eyes wide in disbelief. "Is this a lake?"
"Not a lake, no…" Edward wrapped her in his arms from behind, letting his chin rest on the crown of her head. "It is The Springs."
The Springs, as Edward called it, was a stony pool of fresh, clear water. Its source was found in a narrow tributary from the nearby Star Lake— that same body of water that fed the irrigation systems for the Farmer's Village, where most of the island's food was grown. This tributary flowed west, curving sharply south once it entered the jungle proper, and sloped sharply down until it fell in a great cascade to the shallow, rocky pool below. The pool, Edward told her, was heated by some mysterious process in the earth that Bella knew to be geothermal energy, but it was cooled to a pleasant warmth by the flowing waterfall, which kept it at an optimal temperature for swimming.
"It is beautiful, no?" Edward asked, and Bella nodded her head in numb disbelief. "It is… lovely."
"The most lovely," she agreed at once. From their vantage point, on a ledge near the bottom of the waterfall, she could see the whole basin from east to west. It was dark, it was true, but even so, she could see a plethora of colour in the plants by the water's edge. The pool was light— in the daylight, she suspected it would be a deep, brilliant turquoise— and there were shallow pools full of marine life on rock shelfs and pools. Fish, tiny and silver, flitted in the one nearest her feet, and she could see some kind of green plant waving at her from another further down.
"I've wanted to take you here for a long time," Edward admitted and Bella, turning around to face him properly, let her breath out in a sigh. "I've wanted to show you this for a very long time…"
"Why haven't you?"
"Because it wasn't right," he said. "It wasn't right to take you, when I had no claim to your love, and I've told you before… I wouldn't, for all the world, do anything to shame or dishonour you."
"There is no shame in love," Bella replied. "There is no shame in beauty…"
"No," agreed Edward. "No shame at all… but until you were mine— properly mine— I'd be a fool to risk it."
"Did you think I'd back out?"
"No," Edward said at once, shaking his head so hard that his hair fell loose from its tie. "No, Bella… I'd never think you false."
"I'm not false…"
He pulled her close.
"I brought you here to prove myself to you," Edward said. "I want to prove to you how happy I am that you're to be my wife, and how happy I am that you've agreed to make me your husband."
Bella felt her breath catch in her throat and she swallowed hard against the sudden lump. His face was close to hers, now— so close that she could feel his breath— and she drew her lip between her teeth in sudden nervousness. He touched her, cupped her face between his palms and pressed his forehead to hers before he let her go with a sigh and reached down to the leather bag instead.
Bella was left breathless and bemused, her chest heaving as she held the soft, woolen shawl around her shoulders.
"I brought us towels," said Edward, emerging with two thick sheets big enough to fit her bed. "In case we decide to…"
Bella glanced down into the pool, which looked as enticing as a bathtub full of hot bubbles, and couldn't fight her grin.
"I do," she said. "I'd love to go in."
His smile spread from ear to ear.
"I thought you might," he said, and he offered her his hand again. "I just thought you might…"
Her heart still throbbing and her head still spinning, Bella followed him down a set of steps that had been carved into the side of the basin. They were not long— there were only twenty or so to reach the bottom— but they were slick and she held tight to his hand to keep herself from falling.
Water bathed her feet before she could take her sandals off. It was warm— deliciously, tantalizingly warm— and she quickly kicked off her shoes to let her feet rest on the hot, hard stone.
Edward, she saw, did the same. She watched him as he bent down, untying the laces of his smart, black boots and tossing them behind him to keep them dry as he peeled away his socks. When he reached for the drawstring of his breeches, unfastening the knot with almost absent ease, she felt her body go still.
"Do I shock you, Bella?" Edward asked, and she saw his hands frozen on his waistband. He watched her with an unreadable expression. "Have I… gone too far?"
At once, Bella shook her head.
"No," she said. "I'm not shocked… only surprised."
He let out a low, quick laugh but he stopped, turning instead to walk over to her.
"We could keep them on, our clothes," he said, gesturing to her fine, silver dress, "but they'd be ruined in an instant."
Bella bit her lip.
"I'd not ruin that dress for all the gold in the Kingdom," he continued. His finger reached out, tracing up the shoulder strap of the long, satin gown. "I've never seen anything so beautiful, and I'd not for all the world see it destroyed."
Bella's cheeks flushed red.
"But if you want to stop, we will," he said softly. "I won't push you further than you'd like to go. I'll not dishonour you, Bella… have no fear of that. There will be no… ungentlemanly conduct."
Her head snapped around at once, her cheeks aflame with embarrassment.
"I think more of you," said Bella, and she saw the confused frown settle on his face. "You seemed so… worried about doing things properly."
"There is nothing wrong with this." He brushed his finger over her shoulder. "Nothing wrong at all…"
"You pull away from me," Bella continued. "You don't let me… get too close."
"Not for my own benefit…"
"Then why?" She turned with genuine curiosity, and he perceived it at once. "Why do you… resist?"
"Because it is right," he said again. "Because when we are in company, I must. I am the King, and so must be a model of propriety and good conduct. I cannot insult you by taking liberties… it is not to be tolerated in an average man, but it is to be condemned in a King."
"But if there is nothing wrong with it…"
"Nothing wrong to me," he said at once. "You saw that woman at the festival… you saw what happened when I leaned in too close. The people watch me, Bella. They judge right and wrong by what I do. I can't love you like I want to before all my people… not before we are married. It would be a great scandal, and a great dishonour to you should I even try."
"Then why now?" Her hands tangled in the front of his loose, green tunic. "Why now, Edward?"
"Because we are alone," he said, "and because I love you. Because I want to prove to you that I want you, even if I can't show you in the way I might want to. Because I want to see you, and I want to hold you, even if it's only for a little while. There are no eyes here, Bella… none but ours, and while we stay, we can be as free as if we were the only two people left in all the world."
Bella felt her throat tighten at the sincerity she heard in his voice. She felt her eyes brim up at the honest, palpable desire she saw on his face. There was no guile there— no shadow of doubt or shame or guilt— and so she released his hands and stepped back, letting him step away from his clothes. He kept his shorts— those thin, white underclothes he wore beneath his breeches— but besides that thin covering, he was completely bare.
He stood before her unashamed, letting her rake her eyes over his chest and his arms, and though she didn't touch so much as a hair on his body, the moment felt more intimate than any other they had shared yet.
"If you want," Edward said after a long, pregnant pause, "there are shirts in the bag that you can wear. I will not look, if you don't want me to…"
But Bella, spurred into confidence by the copious wine she'd drunk not long ago, felt her nerves solidify as she reached around to the small of her back where an artful bow was tied to hold her dress in place.
He tried not to look— tried to give her the privacy he thought she wanted— but he failed miserably when Bella did not ask him to turn away. She saw his throat bob, his fingers tapping at the stone at his back, and when Bella finally managed to disentangle the silver cord from the back of the dress, she felt the whole thing loosen and sag.
She, like Edward, wore her underthings beneath her dress. She had on her own breeches— longer and looser than those she was used to back home, but still serving the same purpose. She did not, however, have anything to cover her chest, and though she knew she would have been mortified to show herself to any man in her proper state of mind, the wine had given her courage.
She let the dress pool on the stone in one, great rush, feeling it slip off of her shoulders in a puddle at her feet. She heard Edward's sigh— that great, sudden exhale that made her knees feel weak— and she turned with her chin held high, though her legs shook like autumn leaves.
Neither said anything for a long, quiet moment. They surveyed each other— he looking at her, and she at him— until there was nothing left to hide, and they stood but one inch apart.
"Thank you," Edward said, and Bella frowned up at him.
"For what?"
"For trusting me," he said at once. "For letting me bring you here, and for letting me see you, as you are…"
"As I am?"
"As the gods made you," he said, and Bella glanced up again at the sky. Starlight shadowed him and made his face stand out in the darkness, and when she stood on tiptoe to press her lips to the rounded end of his nose, she felt his arms catch her up at once.
Her kiss never made it there. Indeed, it hardly made it halfway to his cheek before she felt him intercept her with a startling swiftness, pressing those soft, warm lips to hers, his breath becoming one with her own and his hands tangling in the hair at the back of her neck. Her surprise did not last long— indeed, her own longing quickly overtook it— and she closed her eyes, letting his smell, his touch, his warmth take her to new heights where they were the only things that mattered, the only two beings that existed on the face of the earth. She felt his face— felt his stubbly cheek beneath her fingers and the curve of his ear beneath her palm— and felt his long hair tickle her cheeks and her neck. She felt that jaw, so sharp and square and strong, and the way his chest moved against hers, so smooth and hard. His gentleness turned to passion, his soft, stroking hands squeezing at her back and her sides, until he'd pulled her right up to his level, her feet leaving the ground altogether. He took no notice when she squeezed his neck and his arms, or when she wrapped her legs around his waist to hold herself up where he wanted her… he would do anything to keep her close, and be anything to have her breathe that long, satisfied sigh she made whenever he came up for air.
That kiss seemed to last a lifetime and Bella surfaced with a gasp, her pulse racing and her chest heaving. Slowly, as they both came down from their high, Bella let herself slide back down to the ground, her toes touching the hot, wet stone.
"You are beautiful, Bella," said Edward, and she pressed herself to him as close as she could get. "You are absolutely, undeniably beautiful."
"I…"
"I love you," he said, and Bella felt his truth in every fibre of her being. "I love you, and I can't wait to share my life with you."
"I love you too," Bella whispered, and she saw with delight how he froze. He blinked at her, more astonished than pleased, and she felt laughter bubble up on her red and swollen lips.
"Do you?" he asked, and Bella let her laugh go free. "Do you really?"
"I do…"
They moved to the edge of the rock. He kissed her again for good measure.
"I absolutely, positively do."
"Are you ready, then?" he asked, peering into the dark pool. "Are you ready to jump, Bella?"
The warmth wafted up from the bubbling water below. Mist tickled her nose and dampened her hair, and when they stood right at the edge, she felt the waterfall's drizzle on her bare skin. Edward held her fast— tightened his fist around her hand until they were almost fused together— and she took a deep breath, readying herself for the fall.
"I'm ready."
And together they leapt, hands held fast until they hit the water and she swam, higher, and higher, and higher, until she broke the surface once more and wrapped herself in his soft, warm embrace.
A/N: A gift for your wonderful patience... and we've finally made it! A kiss at last! I hope you're all satisfied, and thanks for all your support!
I'd also like to give a special shout out to everyone who's left a review on this story so far. Thanks to your generosity, we've finally crested the 1,000 review mark. A fantastic achievement! Thank you so much.
Translations:
salta —translates literally to "jump out", but is a term used to refer to a specific Maronese dance.