After weeks of grey skies, bitter winds, and thin, drizzling rain, the first day of spring in Goldcrown brings them sunshine.
The warm light is a welcome stranger to the small town. At dawn, it peeks in golden slivers through the remaining clouds. But by noon the town is bathing in the changing season, quickly bustling with activity under the protective eye of the sun. The city center is flowing with people, townsfolk who don their spring florals and shed their winter boots to bask in the safety of the spring day. The shops crank open their windows and hoist open their doors, letting the cool breeze breathe into the dusty corridors and wash away the stale, winter air.
For the first time since the trees changed in colour, the townsfolk breathe easier. Gone are the long shadows of the night; the town of Goldcrown is finally alive.
Ahiru wakes to the sun filtering through her blinds, warm on her skin and tucked around her safely. She rises and stretches, shedding the memories of her dream and already forgetting the eyes that had haunted her through the night. She peeks her head out the window, grin infectious along her freckled face as she takes in the morning breeze and sunlit streets.
She races through the halls of her home with a skip to her step, humming a bird's tune beneath her breath. She takes the stairs two at a time, tying her apron around her waist loosely and grinning at the bookstore's sunny demeanor. With the curtains drawn away and the windows open, the shop was radiant in the spring morning. She fiddled with the hem of her spring linen skirt, remembering her wool dresses and the unceremonious way she had shoved them away deep into her dresser at the warm morning breeze.
During the long winter months, they relied on thin, wax candles for light, and no matter how badly Ahiru thought they smelled, Fakir refused to change them. Candlelight had wrapped the shelved walls in hunched, flickering shadows. But now the sun shined through the glass panels, and Fakir would finally store away the candles.
The shop's front door swung open, revealing the man in question. His dark hair was still mussed with sleep, but his normal glower was weak in the sunny weather. His arms were stacked with books, still wrapped and bound with twine.
"New arrivals?" Ahiru piqued, taking the top few and turning them over. They were still warm from sitting on the steps in the early morning. He grunted in affirmation, setting the remainder on the countertop before grabbing his apron and heading towards the stairs.
"Get started on those, I need coffee," his voice was rough from sleep. "I'll bring yours up here."
"Don't drop it like last time!" She laughed, setting the books down and missing his eye roll.
"I don't think you of all people can say that," He replied, disappearing down the stairs. Ahiru started the arduous task of unwrapping the twine and parchment from all the delivered books, dusting off any acquired grime from their travel. Drosselmeyer's wild, thin scrawl had left small cards within the inside cover, and Ahiru flipped through them. His cards were brief and nonsensical; small stories, anecdotes about his travels, duck sightings. They rarely heard from the shop owner, only through the medium of strange postcards and hand-picked novels. Ahiru peered at their covers.
More fairytales. Ahiru marvelled at the leather-carved illustrations, animals and nature embellished on the smooth surfaces. No matter where Drosselmeyer travelled, he found a worthy tale to send to their keep. That man had an inexplicable fascination with fairytales. Unfortunately for her…
"What have we got?" Fakir returned, a ceramic mug in each hand. Ahiru took the offered drink, swiping the last of his pastry and swallowing it triumphantly. Fakir grumbled, swatting at her idly as he approached the table. Fakir peered at the array of novels. His hair was pushed away from his face, giving Ahiru a clear view of how his eyes lit up at the new books.
… The fascination with fairytales was passed down to his grandson. Fakir hadn't received the eerie demeanor of his grandfather, nor his wild eyes, but he had inherited his taste in grim literature. And, surprisingly, his bookstore.
"I'll finish up here, you get everything opened up," Fakir shooed her away from the counter, running a hand over the leather bound novels. "With all luck, it should be busy today."
"The spring festival is just around the corner, now that the seasons are changing," Ahiru leaned against the wall, sipping her coffee idly. Fakir hummed. "I'm sure we'll hear news of the solstice in the coming days, too."
"Winter hasn't fully passed," Fakir said, "but it's nice to see people out and about." Ahiru paused, coffee mug resting at her lip. Ruby-red eyes flickered through her mind, a grim reminder of the haunted winter nights.
"It was a difficult winter, wasn't it?" Ahiru mused quietly. The winters in Goldcrown were behind them, and its people clung to the spring with the little hope that remained.
"Worse than most," Fakir agreed solemnly. For a moment, the two stared into their mugs, before Fakir shook his head and grinned at her. "There's no more ice for you to slip on, but you'll find something else to trip over, won't you?" Ahiru glared at him over her mug, before setting it down sharply and turning to the shop door.
"Very funny, Fakir!" She called over her shoulder, swinging the oak door open and not waiting to hear his booming laugh. The air was cold as it curled over her shoulders and breathed along her neck, and Ahiru sorely wished she'd brought a shawl.
It was sunny, but the chill still remained.
Ahiru propped the shop doors open, letting the cold air sweep through the shop. She idly grabbed her broom and attacked the wispy cobwebs bunched along the stairs and awning, humming the bird's song that rang in her mind. She made quick work of the settled dust around the shop front, feeling the sun warm her back and face as she lost herself to the mundane task.
Ahiru greeted those who walked by the storefront, grinning at the pastel linens and pressed skirts that swept past her. Children stomped in the thawing puddles, shrieking at the cold and chasing the sprouts of life that peeked through the frozen dirt. Parasols with floral lace and delicate handles twirled in the sunlight, and Ahiru stared dreamily at a lady's layered, flowing dress, layered with thin gossamer and pristinely white.
Lost in thought, she didn't notice the person approaching her until a hand was stuck in her face.
Ahiru squaked, throwing her weight off where it was leaned against her broom and toppling over in a graceless heap. She rubbed her back and moaned at the new, dark smudges on her cream dress, glaring at the giggling women before her.
"Don't scare me like that!" She cried, accepting the gloved hand that helped her to her feet. Pique and Lily titter, faces rosy with laughter.
"Oh, but Ahiru, you're so easy to scare!" Pique replied, dusting off the back of Ahiru's dress with a fretful hand. "It's hardly our fault that you daydream so much."
"Imagine if it hadn't been us!" Lily giggled, as Ahiru felt her face warm. "Imagine if it was Fakir!" Her voice was high with laughter.
"He would have just pushed me anyways," Ahiru grumbled, but a smile trembled traitorously on her lips. "I take it classes are done for the day for you two?" Ahiru glanced at Lily's satin pouch, hardly the bookbag she normally carried to university.
Pique tutted softly, face curled in disdain. "Hardly so, they never happened! Our professor got a glimpse of the sun and called off classes." She rolled her eyes. "Something about the good weather distracting her from her teaching duties? I think she merely wanted to spend the day with her husband!" The two schoolgirls exchanged exasperated glances over their shoulders.
Ahiru swatted Pique's shoulder playfully, leaning her weight on her broom. "Aw, don't complain! Now you get the whole day off to enjoy the sunshine. Go and do something!"
"And you? Surely you won't be locked away in this dusty bookkeep while the day wastes away, right?" Lily narrowed her eyes at the shorter girl, who busied herself with picking an imaginary pastry flake off her sleeve. "Does he shackle you to the storefront against your will, or do you just hate the idea of freedom?"
"Ah, it's nothing like that!" Ahiru waved a hand absentmindedly at the girl's sharp gaze. "It's… I like it here, that's all. I'll be sure to get out and about before the sun sets, I promise."At that, she hears her name from inside the shop. "Get along now, you too! Go and enjoy yourselves." With greetings exchanged, the two left along the roadside, and Ahiru hung up her broom before returning to the shop.
Inside, she found Fakir passionately rambling about their newest selection to a familiar head of silvery hair. "Oh, you're back from your travels! Welcome back!" She cut off his tale to greet the patron, who smiled at her warmly and accepted her brief hug. "Don't let him talk you to delirium, OK? He's only still going because you let him!" Her stage-whisper to the two men earned her a soft laugh from one, and a nasty glare from the other.
"Mytho knows me well enough to put up with that, he dealt with it all through university," Fakir replies drily, as he moves to wrap a new stack of books on the counter that weren't there when Ahiru went to swep. "If only you knew how he's secretly as interested in them as I!"
"Now, let's not make any blanket statements," Mytho easily laughs, fiddling with his coat sleeve idly while Fakir bound the books between them. "Though I am excited for the last one, you did an incredible job of selling it to me."
"He's got an incredible talent for that, surprisingly!" Ahiru laughed. Fakir's strong suits didn't lie in socializing, but he could describe a tale in such a way that had anyone nearby enticed. Even Ahiru found herself sneaking tales off the shelves at night to her chambers, eagerly chasing the magic in between the pages that only the broody bookkeeper could spin. "Careful though, it'll go to his head!"
"This shop will have to seal its doors the day I fail to make you spend a fair coin here, Duke." Fakir grinned as he handed the wrapped book stack to Mytho, who swore at its weight. "And never forget that."
"I'll keep that in mind, then." Mytho set the pile down, resting his elbows on it. "Though unfortunately, with the spring festival approaching, I'm afraid my visits here may be less frequent than I'd prefer."
"Lots to prepare?" Ahiru called from between two stacks of books, sorting them into lopsided categories. She paused on a book that was both suspenseful and fantasy… She spends a moment staring accusingly at her categories before making a new pile.
"You've hardly an idea. Preparations, negotiations, treaties…" He trailed off, a faraway look in his bright eyes. "Not to mention, we'll be hosting at the manor until the solstice passes." At this, both shopkeepers turned their full attention to the Duke. At their expressions, Mytho shrugged. "The idea came from my father, apparently. A Lady from a different estate will be staying to witness the solstice, and visit the University."
Ahiru knew the smirk on her face mirrored Fakir's. "A Lady? When are we going to meet her, Mytho?" He rolled his eyes at her good-naturedly. "Come on, this shop is practically killing me, and we need some excitement!"
Fakir reached over to Ahiru's piles and straightened them absentmindedly, ignoring her scoff. "As much as I hate to agree with her, you've got to bring her here when you've got the chance. I promise to behave, though I can't speak for the rowdy one."
At that Mytho's snicker rolled into carefree laughter, slumping against his book stack as Ahiru smacked Fakir's arm repeatedly. "I make no promises, but I'll try. Now Ahiru, please stop beating him, so I can make him help me with this ridiculously heavy pile of books."
"You've got it!"
The shop closed as the sun's rays began to burn gold against the windows, and the last of the patrons began trickling towards their homes. As the sun set, the feeble warmth it shared was swept away, leaving in its place an unsettling chill that followed Ahiru through the book store even as they shut the doors and lit the evening candles (much to her chagrin).
She made sure to voice her complaints, loudly, as Fakir locked the doors and did his best to studiously ignore her. The dinner they shared was light, chasing the waning sunset over leftover soup and fresh bread Ahiru had charmed out of the local bakery.
The two of them chatted idly about the day's events, the upcoming spring solstice, and decrypting Drosselmeyer's tales from his travels across the continent. They sat until the candle's light was thick and ebbing, and the smell became too much to ignore.
As much as Ahiru loved the cheery sun and the bustle of daytime, the peace that settled over the world as the moon broke the trees resonated in her very being. The night air was cool, and sweet, and so very tempting.
Fakir cast her a knowing look across the kitchen as she dried their dishes, eyes glued to the small window above the sink. The faint moonlight that poured through was calling her.
"Go on ahead, I'll finish up here." Her trance shattered as he plucked the plate from her hands, that she'd been drying for several minutes. "Just make sure you don't trip and fall into the lake."
She sputtered at him, though she was already untying her apron. "Come on, that hasn't even happened!" She tossed it on the hook, and raced up the stairs to her chambers. Before she could reach her door, she heard his gruff 'Not yet!' from the kitchen.
Ahiru stripped her linens and grimaced at the new stains they'd acquired, humming as she changed and re-tied her braid to help wrangle the locks that had strayed. She slipped on her shoes, grabbing her basket and double-checking for her lantern, spare candle, picnic tarp, spare shawl….
"I'll be back!" She didn't wait for Fakir's reply, creaking open the back door and slipping through into the cool night. The breeze nipped her cheeks and ruffled her skirts, and she took a moment to breathe until her lungs were cold.
Then, she was off.
The fence was already pried open, and Ahiru navigated through the mouth of the forest as she'd done dozens of times. Her path between the trees and over woven roots was muscle memory, one she could do blindfolded. Above her, the moon guided her in rays of cool light that glanced along her skin.
The forest of Goldcrown was foreign to most of the town residents; lingering tales (most likely Drosselmeyer's doing) of crawling spirits and eldritch ghosts kept most townsfolk far from its twisted vines and thick greenery. Most shied away from its depths, afraid of the unknown.
Luckily, Ahiru was not like most townsfolk.
She raced through the trees, feeling the twigs and leaves whisper against her skin. The moon's energy hummed in her ears, racing through her blood and guiding her through the forest's familiar maze.
She saw the lake up ahead, the water's reflection twinkling with the moon's heavenly gaze. She slowly came to a stop at the lakeside, tossing her shoes against a nearby tree to wiggle her toes in the soft dirt. Setting her basket down, Ahiru made quick work of lighting her lantern, basking momentarily in the warmth of its light, cradling the artificial sun against her chest before nestling it alongside her belongings and turning to face the silent pond.
She took a deep breath, then two. Then, she slowly began to dance.
Dancing was hardly the word for Ahiru's movements.
Her limbs were awkward, naive with inexperience as she stumbled through her warm ups. Her arms were jerky, legs jutting out rapidly in lieu of smooth, carved turns. She squealed through a fall, laughing awkwardly at herself before continuing with renewed vigor.
She'd gotten better, Fakir mused as he watched through the clearing, but she was far from perfect.
Fakir watched her dance from his comfortable position against a large evergreen. He was well-covered by the foliage and blanket of night, as well as a woven blanket he'd snatched from his closet to bid off the evening chill. At the thought, he shivered through another slow slice of the breeze.
He hadn't thought much of following her, when she'd first moved in years ago. He passed off her night-time escapade as a one time event, then a fleeting curiosity, but soon after his concern grew at her routine disappearances into the night. He stationed himself far from the lakeside the first time, trembling with anticipation, hands wrapped tepidly around the cool steel of his rifle.
But all she did was dance.
Back then, it was hardly dancing. She'd fallen her way through every move, and had returned hours later sporting a few bruises she poorly hid the next day.
He shouldn't have continued to follow her after that night, curiosity sated and fears rested for her safety. But something drew him out the next night, and the night after, and a fortnight later he began leaving his bag propped by the door, so he could easily grab it after she left.
Maybe it was to keep her safe, in an archaic and misguided sense. Maybe it was to watch her grow into a confident dancer and a confident woman, far from the livewire of stress and nerves she was when they'd first met. Maybe it was to uphold the promise he'd made to Drosselmeyer on the last day he saw him, to look after her, and protect her from herself and the evils of their world.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
He sighed, breath curling around him in a wisps. The rolling soreness in his back told him it time he headed back, so with a grunt and a last sweeping glance at her pirouted form, he turned to their home and let the worn path in the ground guide him through the unruly woods.
Between the trees, a dark figure shifts with the hum of the forest. Slipping into the black protection of night, Fakir fails to catch the movement as it brushes past him towards the lake.
Ahiru's toes were nearly frozen when she sat to rest along the lake's edge. She unwrapped her shawl and threw it around herself, idly kicking waves into the murky water as the sweat from her routine cooled along her skin.
Under the watchful gaze of the night sky, she melts. Resting her chin on her knees, Ahiru sings an off-tune key to herself and marvels at the moon's dancing reflection along the lake's surface. Around her the trees are silent, the wind ceasing its pull against their leaves and sway.
The forest danced an unpredictable tune, impossible to choreograph or study. The stillness of the forest was eerie to most, but not to Ahiru, who traveled its depths alone every night.
Lost in thought, she doesn't notice the silence of the forest shifts to an unnatural degree.
The forest hardly stirred as another figure breached the clearing to the lake. With soundless steps and silent breath, the form slowly crept along the soft bank. Beneath her feet the sproutlings of spring curled into an unnatural state of death, leaving behind a trail of decay that led towards the young dancer.
An unseen twig snapped beneath her feet, starting the young woman out of her sleepy trance and focusing her gaze to the sound of the noise.
In the open eyes of the moonlight, the two met each other's eyes.
Across the lake stood a figure.
Ahiru hadn't heard its approach, lost to her thoughts in the stillness of the night.
It stood tall, nearly twice her height, a towering form of dark shadow and glowing eyes.
Eyes, the colour of scarlet, of the ruby summer sunset. Eyes the colour of freshly spilt blood.
Eyes that were trained on her.
She stood quickly, fear stomping her heart as a chill struck her that had little to do with the cold night. She noticed feathers, ink-black and matted, that caught in the moonlight. They haloed the figure and cascaded down its massive form.
Ahiru drew her shawl around herself, conscious of her thin gown and empty hands, before calling across the clearing,
"Who are you?"
The figure didn't respond. In lieu of a reply, it took a silent step forward.
Ahiru stood frozen, knuckles clenched bone-white against her thin shawl. A frantic voice in her head that sounded like Fakir's urged her to turn, to race back to the safety of her home, but her feet stood frozen.
"What are you?" She tried again, deigned with no response as it took another heavy step. This time, she saw the young shoots of grass wither where it moved to stand. Now, it stood close enough where she could see something dark dripping from its chest, leaving splatters of death and decay.
A glint of moonlight in its next step hit its chest, and the dripping fluid had an eerily familiar ruby shine.
"Are you hurt?"
Another advance. Now, the figure stood an arms length away, swaying gently and breathing heavily. Ahiru saw something embedded in its chest, but it was only a glance -
The beast's form blocked the moonlight, though Ahiru could make out its cruel beak and tattered wings. Fathers, matted with blood and dirt, poured out of its form. Its head was cast low with pain, shoulders hunched and trembling.
"You're bleeding… Let me help you." Her voice was hardly above a whisper now, as the figure entered her space and fully blocked out the protection from the moon's eye.
Ahiru waited for it to say something, anything, though she hardly knew if the being spoke at all. From her proximity, she saw the wound in its gnarled pride; steadily bleeding, crusted with infection and rot. The sight made her stomach roll.
Tentatively, she reached a hand out to brush its feathers aside to get a closer view of the wound. Something was lodged in its chest, unmistakably deep and no doubt painful.
The moment her finger brushed its body, the beast recoiled sharply, shattering the lucid moment with an inhuman screech, guttural and wounded. Ahiru jumped back at the sound, heart hammering in her throat.
It raced past her, moving in a gust of wind as it delved into the forest. Within moments, the beasts' form was invisible in the dark protection of night.
Ahiru stood for a few moments, hand stil outstretched and catching her breath. She turned the memories in her head, still sharp and vivid, wondering if she was dreaming. Perhaps the creature was an omen that had followed her from last nights' dreams.
She turned to her belongings, finding her basket and lantern missing. One of her shoes was absent too, as she scrambled over to find her things. In their place was a glossy feather, as long as her forearm and soft to the touch.
Ahiru took the feather, her sole shoe, and a deep breath, before plunging into the forest and returning home. While she knew the forests' layout by heart, she stumbled over her bare feet several times, frantically searching the trees for the glowing eyes.
Upon arriving, she found Fakir outside, who spared her a long look-over, shivering bare-foot and empty-handed. He silently ushered her inside, bolting the door with a screech that made Ahiru jump.
"What happened?" His voice was softer than she'd expected, as she recalled the beasts' trembling shoulders and pained cry.
It took her a while to find her words. She clutched her shoe to keep the images abay. She wanted to sleep, desperately wanted to curl into her soft sheets and familiar room, but knew without a doubt that she would be greeted again in her dreams. Over and over again.
"I don't know."
The next time Mytho visits, he brings a newcomer.
The two step into the shop on an overcast morning, where the sky drizzled just enough to coat everything in a fine sheen of rain. Mytho set his umbrella against the rack, face rosy from the chill morning air.
"Welcome!" Ahiru called out from behind a bookshelf as she pulled three dusty tomes from its shelves. Arms full, she rounded the shelf corner and beamed at the Duke's presence. "Ah, Mytho!"
At his side stood a tall woman, nearly a head taller than Ahiru, face shrouded in a lacy mantle attached to an elaborate, bejeweled hat. Ahiru took in the rich burgundy dress she wore, perfectly tailored and sweeping the floor in layers of spotless silk. It was fitted at the bust, crawling with spidery embroidery that ran along her shoulders and down the thick sleeves.
"Who's this?" From behind her, Fakir came to stand besides her. Ahiru saw a peek of raven-black hair, tied behind her hat, and a flash of colour from her earrings, unable to decipher the woman's face.
At Fakir's harsh question, Ahiru elbowed him swiftly, drawing a laugh out of Mytho and a slight chuckle out of his partner.
"Forgive him, he has no manners." Ahiru apologized, taking a step forward. "May I ask your name?"
"I'm well aware of Fakir's manners, Ahiru. No need to apologize on his behalf." Mytho smiled easily. "This is Lady Rue, the visitor I told you two about." the Lady removed her hat, gently setting it on the rack affixed to the wall besides her. Ahiru drank in the sight of her regal features; glossy hair that was elegantly combed, proud nose and petite lips that were rouged and carved into a perfect smile.
Her eyes, Ahiru noticed, were ruby red. She held her gaze for a moment too long, then quickly glanced away when she felt she was being impolite. The colour of the Lady's eyes was unsettlingly familiar, bringing a brief memory of dripping red wounds and a single raven feather.
"A pleasure to meet you both," the Lady's voice was pleasant and rolled over Ahiru in a warm crescendo. "I've heard many stories of you from the Duke."
"Hopefully only good things?" Fakir mused, though the stiff quality hadn't left his tone. The Lady smiled at his words, eyes crinkled in amusement.
Ahiru had more manners than him, so she dipped her head in greeting. "Welcome to Goldcrown, my Lady. I hope it's been pleasant so far!"
"Thank you, Ahiru." Ahiru shivered at hearing her name come from the woman, lilted and sweet. "And yes, it's been lovely so far. I'm fascinated by the little I've seen so far."
"Well, you're more than welcome to take a look. I don't know if you've a penchant for reading, but we have a fair selection."
The Lady's smile grew, and she glanced about the shelves with bright eyes. "Oh yes, I love a good tale. Fairytales are my favourites."
Fakir stepped away, returning to his bound journal across the keep. Ahiru stood for a moment longer, before she bowed again and busied herself with returning the stray novels lying about to their shelved homes.
"Ahiru?" She snapped to attention, turning to see the Lady standing besides her. Ahiru straightened her skirts, brushing over the creases nervously.
"Yes, my Lady?" At that the taller woman laughed, waving a gloved hand at her easily. Her laughter was soft and airy, and ran through Ahiru like a current.
"There's no need for that, please just call me Rue." The Lady - Rue, Ahiru chastised herself - "I do have a question for you, if you don't mind."
"Of course! What can I do to help?" Ahiru beamed at her, returning the stray book to the nearby shelf and tucking a stray lock behind her ear. "Though if it's for book recommendations, I'm afraid Fakir's the expert."
Rue glanced over at him, before pursuing her lips in a thin line and leaning over. She drew a hand to her mouth and whispered, "Your Fakir seems rather… Difficult to approach, if you don't mind me saying so." The amusement was thick in her tone.
Ahiru giggled, glancing over at the man in question and his perplexed face. "You could say that!" The two shared a laugh. "OK, I'll do my best. What do you like to read then, Rue?"
Rue was quiet for a long moment, taking in the rows of books around them. "I have rather unconventional tastes… Do you happen to have any tales of the darker variety?" She smiled apologetically. "Those are my personal favourites."
Dark fairytales? Rue had certainly come to the right place. "You'll find plenty of those here! Lucky for you, Drosselmeyer has a penchant for the unconventional."
Rue's eyes flashed. "Drosselmeyer?" Her voice dropped to a near-whisper.
"The man who owns the bookstore," Ahiru began, entranced by the curiosity on the taller woman's face. "He's a traveling storyteller, and he sends us most of the selection you see here." She motioned to the shelf dedicated to fairytales, stepping towards it and grinning as Rue followed. "We've got a collection of fairy tales that are… Darker than most."
"Well I'll be damned," Rue mused. "A name I haven't heard in a long time…" She trailed a delicate finger across the book spines, plucking an indigo-coloured novel from the shelf.
Turning it in her palm, she read the name under her breath. "Have you read this one, Ahiru?" Ahiru studied the leather cover, carved with paints and gilded with the imagery of a raven, wings outstretched.
The animal's image returned her mind to the lake, and that moon-lit night. She hadn't returned since the incident, and kept the feather studiously locked away in her dresser. Blood-red eyes flashed in her thoughts, twisted with grief and agony.
"Ahiru?" She roused from her thoughts, meeting Rue's eye and realized she'd ignored her. The taller woman's face was pinched with concern. "Are you alright?"
"Ah-yes, I'm sorry!" Embarrassment burned her face. "No, I haven't read it, but I've been told it's rather…Sad, perhaps a better word is somber? A rather lonely tale." Rue glanced across the cover again, an indescribable expression crossing her sharp features.
"Is that so? Then I'll have to read it myself." Satisfied, she turned to Mytho, engrossed in a quiet conversation with Fakir. Ahiru caught the words husband and disappearance, the rest bubbling over into white noise over the humm in Ahiru's ears. Rue's close proximity, her low voice, and her smokey gaze were turning lucid circles through her mind. Fakir's brow was furrowed and his posture was tense; knowing that look, the Duke's words weren't of novels.
The Duke turned to the two women, flashing a thin smile at the book in Rue's hand. "Something caught your eye?" In his hands he held a slim journal, rather than his usual stack of literature. "I was just finished here with Fakir." The two made quick business of paying for their goods, and soon they stood in the doorway again, Rue's hat perched in place and Mytho's umbrella in hand.
"Let me know if anything changes, Mytho. I'll keep an eye out and ask around." Fakir said from the counter, gaze unreadable. Mytho nodded in assent, before the bookkeeper turned his gaze to Rue. "Lady Rue, it was nice to meet you."
"Please let me know what you think of the book, Rue!" Ahiru beamed at the taller girl, who smiled beneath her veiled hat. "And please visit again!"
"It was a pleasure to meet you two," she regarded the two. "I'll be sure to do so, Ahiru."
With that, the two left, sweeping through the door and leaving into the misty daylight. Ahiru watched them depart, buzzing with emotion that sat on the edge of her skin. The energy followed her through her whole day, chasing her attention in between new patrons and work. The Lady's presence clung to the forefront of her mind, her smoldering gaze unbidden in Ahiru's thoughts.
There was something… Familiar about the woman, though Ahiru couldn't understand it. She'd never met her before - Ahiru would certainly remember someone as remarkable as she - but the thought was stubborn, and it chased her even after the shop closed and she sat across from Fakir for dinner.
"It was nice of Mytho to stop by," she mused while Fakir set a steaming plate of vegetables in front of her. "I know he said he'd been busy, so it was a surprise to see him!" Fakir grunted as he sat.
"He spoke to me of some troubling news." Ahiru blinked in surprise as Fakir spoke, low and careful. "Do you know Madam Paulamoni?"
"That's… Pique and Lily's university instructor!" Ahiru gasped. "Is she OK?"
"She herself is fine, but her husband went missing this morning. They reported it to the Duke. They think it may be a one-off, but Mytho wasn't convinced. He came to warn us. With the Lady at his estate, he's unable to investigate it as he'd like."
"That's…" Ahiru had never met the professor her friends spoke about, but they never spoke poorly of her. "Do they know what happened? Or did he just… Disappear?"
Fakir nodded, settling the table into a grim silence. Ahiru mulled his words over; word of a disappearance would spread quickly through the town. Fear was easily settled into the hearts of Goldcrown, its people intimately familiar with it. "Do they have any ideas?"
"At the moment, none. But be careful, and tell no one." Fakir grumbled. "Mytho is spread thin, so we may not see much of him for a while." His expression when he'd come today had been tired; it hung in shadows around his light eyes, and in the stiff tension of his form. Ahiru pained to see him carry the weight he did.
"Well, at least we saw some of him today! And we got to meet Rue," Ahiru tried to keep her tone cheerful, shirking back when Fakir stared at her unsettlingly.
"You seemed to take to the Lady quickly, now that you've reminded me." He bemused, resting his elbows on the table and pinning her with a smug expression. "She seemed to warm up to you too." Ahiru felt warm beneath his knowing look.
"She was nice, I guess." Shrugging, she reached across the table and grabbed his bread roll. He did little to fight it except roll his eyes. "And it was fun to talk to someone new!"
"I'm sure that's all it was," he replied. Ahiru studied the candle in front of them to avoid meeting his eye. She didn't like the look he had on his face, the one that said he knew more than he'd let on. After a moment, he sat back in his chair, arms folded and tone void of any humour. "But back to the subject of the disappearance, I'd avoid heading out at night for the time being. There's no telling what you could find in the woods."
Ahiru sighed. Since that night, she hadn't gone out to the lake, but she was itching to do something, restless and frustrated at the break in her routine. "I know, I haven't gone since…"
She didn't need to finish. She'd told Fakir of what she saw that night, explaining her missing items and terrified appearance. He'd done little more than listen and nod, though the back door was bolted shut when she'd checked the next day.
"Still. Just be safe, for my sake? I'd hate to find you missing, then there'd be no one to mess up my shelves." She groaned at that, even as he cracked a grin.
"That was one time!"