AUDEAMUS
Chapter 18
I write in haste for I cannot bear it any longer. I threw it all away, I failed myself. What I believed in does not exist in this kingdom and it crushes me. I cannot live in such a world. I hope judgment will not be too harsh on me. I hope those who knew me will understand.
L.R
Most of it didn't make much sense to him. To his eyes, and to a large part of Hayes, it was a simple, yet embellished suicide note. It was as if, in his last moments alive, Lucas Ridge had decided to become a poet. What Bella Swan had thus far discerned made sense, even to him. No matter how many times he went over it, he needed to speak with someone who had known Mr. Ridge better, and who had spoken more with Miss Haste.
Finding a moment where she was not constantly guarded or surrounded by people proved to be hard. Bella Swan rarely ventured to Raven's Grove anymore and he suspected he might not find a chance to see her before she left for Zafra.
However, perhaps destiny had decided they should have one final encounter before she left. October had come alarmingly quick and Hayes grew tenser than ever before. Bella had kept her word to her father and not ventured anywhere alone again without Robert. She visited Lucy at her tavern and tried to speak with Thompson whenever she could. Collins had openly started courting her and it had overjoyed Charles, who regarded the man as an eloquent match. But knowing she was to leave Hayes for the first time—and not see her beloved town for a few months—made Bella take April on a final solitary trip. One Sunday morning, when most had gone to St. Nicholas for mass, she had stayed behind, complaining of a headache to her parents. It was broad daylight but still, Raven's Grove called for her.
The powerful hooves brought her into the enigmatic forest, now aglow with fiery colors of ruby and gold. The rooftop of the woods matched the floor in such splendid colors that Bella thought someone must have painted them there. She had April slow down, mindful of any roots that might lurk. It had not rained for the past few days and she saw it as an opportune time to venture one last time into the forest. The Embrace was too far in, but Bella could still pass by the stream that led to the lake where she would bathe in during the summers.
Due to the previous week's rains, the stream was still wider than before, the trickle it produced during summer was now a roar in her ears as she dismounted her horse and led her by the reins. She went to a small cluster of boulders and watched the picturesque sights her haven offered.
There he found her, sitting against a big rock with dark moss cascading over the top, her mare tied off nearby a tree and Bella Swan's eyes closed as her face took in the sunlight. She had crossed her legs as they peeked through her royal blue riding habit.
Every time he saw her, except for at Wilson's estate, Bella Swan had been laying down in rest. This time was no different. He made his presence known by rattling the leaves with his boots and saw her dart up.
Bella turned around, to the source of such minor commotion. She could not have been followed to Raven's Grove by anyone in Hayes. Most were at mass. Then another thought passed her mind, it had to be Jacob. She knew him to roam the interior of the woods in search for firewood. Maybe he'd sought her out, a premonition that she would be there.
Thus, with little ceremony, Bella Swan turned around with a smile on her face, expecting Jacob to be there, yet her smile stripped completely as she saw Cullen, under the crown of a tree. The thick crown did some in shielding his form, however, the shadow cast over him was not as protective as it would be during the night. For the first time, Bella caught a good glimpse of him in daylight.
"I did not think you showed yourself when the sun is out," she proceeded to say defiantly. His black figure outlined sharply against the reds, browns, and yellows of the forest, as did his horse. "Your guise does not afford you any protection in this environment," Bella remarked. She had always known he was tall. His shoulders were as broad as she expected and had discerned from when speaking to him in the shadows.
He did not leave the confinements of the tree. He knew Bella Swan was perceptive, and he would not give her more fodder to try to reveal who hid beneath the mask. Having stepped out before her as Cullen in broad daylight was a big enough risk already.
"Circumstance required such a sacrifice, my lady," his booming and rich voice floated to her ear and brushed deliciously against it. She stifled a shiver.
She arched an eyebrow and he remarked that she did not guard herself against him as she had in the past. There was something decidedly different about this encounter. He attributed it to the presence of the sun.
Bella Swan walked up to him in silent steps, ever regarding the proud stature of such a man. How he and the hermit were one and the same she could not understand. But she now heard their voices as one, although she suspected he spoke in lower and richer tones as Cullen. The more she neared him, the more she discerned in greater detail.
He wore a black shirt with wide arms that ventured into two kidskin gloves in the same color. She commended him in his choice of gloves, no doubt he could still feel the weight and pressure of the blade when fencing with them, yet they hid the lightness of his skin during the night. His black shirt came up to a simple cut collar. No cravat tied it together and the very top gaped open slightly, allowing her a faint view of the skin at the top of his throat.
His trousers followed the same color scheme and ran up past his hips, fitted against his legs and outlining them for her to better see. Even the buttons which tied the front together were charcoal black. A sash about his waist tied the top part of the trousers together, a fashion she had never seen before in Angloa but knew was not uncommon in the southern countries of Europe. He wore some sort of outdated boots that hugged his shins and ended just below his knees. They were not polished as she expected a gentleman would've liked to have them. Polished boots might, in the worst case, catch the light of some candle at night and shine. Thus, they were kept as dull as possible, she noted.
She came to willingly stand a few meters from him as he relaxed near the tree trunk. His eyes regarded every miniscule move she made walking up to him, how she lifted part of her riding habit as not to stumble. Bella felt their fire burn into her, and she focused instead on her footing, trying not to blush under such stern regard.
When she stopped in front of him, he knew—there was no longer fear in her eyes, only defiance and some faint amount of cockiness he had never before seen in her. Bella Swan held some information over him, and it made him warry.
However, he did not show it.
"You have come and sought me out, then," she stated before him while squaring her shoulders. "About the note… that you stole."
He ignored her last remark with a faint tug of his lip. "There is more to this note…" he trailed off. She knew he would not admit to it—to his failure in trying to find more in Lucas' last words. Of course, Bella had not been successful in such an endeavor either.
A gloved hand trailed to the sash and retrieved the note, stretching out to hand it to her. Bella stared at it for a while as the winds dragged at the crowns, making the rustling leaves sing, a gentle backdrop to the pooling water and faint birdsong. She almost feared the weight of the words written in the fold of that paper. Her lips parted slowly as the chocolate orbs froze on his hand.
For a few moments, there existed nothing but the two of them, eerily finding themselves in such a strange situation. Raven's Grove enveloped both in her protective bosom, the picture of them reminiscent of happenings that had taken place in that same forest a long time ago.
He walked closer to her, centimeters now separating them, and took her right hand, pressing the note into it. "In haste, Miss Swan," he told her. The voice singing softly in her ears, soft like velvet and smooth like honey as it vibrated through her, causing an involuntary shiver. "What was the name of the maid who killed herself?"
In haste. Miss Haste. How foolish that she had not thought of it already. Bella had not known such a chill before, now replacing the warm sensation that had been previously there. He saw her pale slowly. "Maria," she mouthed to herself as a tremble overcame her. "He meant Maria?" For the first time, she brought herself to face him and was stunned to find such intense eyes bearing down on her. The mask shadowed most of them, but she caught the twinkle, felt their strength. Bella was mesmerized, like a moth drawn to a flame by their alluring sheer.
"Even if he didn't, someone thought he was referring to her. Do you believe her capable of throwing herself off a roof?" he asked. From where she stood, the low rumble of his voice pushed past the fear, cradled and comforted her as a warmth to spread across her entire body. Bella was caught entirely by the soft movement of his full lips, by their formation of every syllable, every vowel, and consonant. She took a sharp breath and violently shook her head, trying to get a grip over her fleeting senses. Was she going mad? What behavior was this?
"Never that," she whispered in response, afraid that even the trees had ears. Even if this man could be so vexing to her, Bella ignored it for a moment to be drawn further in by him.
"Did she come to you, did she ever seek you out?" He had moved his lips to speak again and the words caused a frown.
She took a step back, now suddenly guarded again. "Why would Miss Haste seek me out?"
"You were a close acquaintance with Mr. Ridge."
"But Mr. Ridge left nothing of note behind for me—"
"But maybe he knows you would have understood these words, the meaning of this small text better than anyone else?"
"You are grasping at straws, Cullen. Lucas could never have known that I would have stumbled upon this note."
"But he knew he was writing a suicide note that might be made known to the rest of Hayes and thus its information read out loud or at least posted on the boards in town by the Royal Guard."
"Had I not seen for myself the words 'in haste' I would never have figured it out," she admitted.
"Yet, you saw them, and Miss Haste is dead—because there is no doubt that she held some sort of information that Ridge must have left for her. He was looking into more than Mr. Black and his son's trial. I believe he was trying to take down Captain Forster."
He was, for the first time, not amusing himself with teasing her, he was being utterly serious in their conversation—and honest. But Bella did still not know if she could trust him.
"Are you certain Miss Haste did not seek you out?" he asked again.
She had. The words two birds and a saint still stood out to her, but she could not know what they meant. "We spoke on a few occasions, but it held nothing of consequence—"
He shook his head, almost growing frustrated. "Miss Swan, if she told you something, it might put you in danger…it might make whoever killed Miss Haste come after you."
Her lips pressed together. "I leave for Zafra in the morrow, sir. I have nothing to give you."
"Well then, you would give up on poor Mr. Ridge and Miss Haste?" He seemed almost disappointed in his countenance.
She shook her head violently. "Never," she breathed. "He had such faith in saving Mr. Black and Jacob, and he never deserved such an end. If Forster is involved in this, I wish to see him pay for it. What you do to him; taunt him, clean Raven's Grove of bandits is admirable but—"
"It only alleviates the symptoms, it does not remove the root of the sickness. I know, Miss Swan," he nodded. Some humanity showed through the tough exterior and Bella was allowed a view of the troubled man beneath the mask. He truly seemed worried by such a fact. "But more will perish if Forster is allowed to continue."
"I do not understand you, Mr. Cullen. First, you come to steal this note and now you are giving it back to me in want of help?" She crossed her arms before him in a questioning manner. The sunlight spilled through the leaves and reflected further upon his person and herself. He was indeed a most singular person that only continued to draw her in.
His chuckle rumbled in unison with the wind as the leaves rustled once more. For the first time, she saw his full smile, how his full lips drew back to reveal the whites of his teeth to her in a genuine and charming smirk. "You do not trust me," he said simply.
"No, indeed I do not. Because, after all, you are a bandit of these woods, no matter how noble your intentions might be. And your treatment of me has not been exactly…courteous," she snickered. "And your insults against my horse have been of very poor taste." She tilted her head.
It seemed she had caught him by surprise for Cullen's lips pressed together.
"Oh, yes, I know. You cannot hide that insufferable laugh. I know you are the same fellow I met back in May by this very stream and I know you are the same man who called April…rotund."
He seemed to be evaluating her for a moment, thinking over what he was expected to say. Maybe, he realized, keeping up pretenses with her was of no use much longer. "Well, Miss Swan, I spoke the truth, didn't I?" he asked. He still spoke in the same deep voice, still held the same squared and relaxed pose. He pointed at April. "Your mare has decidedly gotten into better shape," he smirked. He couldn't help it, teasing her and watching her grow flustered brought on such satisfaction. He found it almost endearing.
"You have scared me half to death on several occasions, entered my chamber without my consent, almost dropped me into my own pond and dared to call my horse fat. And you expect me to trust in you after all of this?"
He shrugged. "O ye, of little faith," the masked man smirked. She felt his gaze penetrative, almost searching, and how his stance shifted.
She sighed. Working together with this man might really help Miss Haste and Mr. Ridge. But she was certain he would keep her in the dark and not inform her whatever findings he might have. Aye, he had refrained from doing so up until this point. So why should she give away what Maria had told her? "If I tell you that I might have stumbled upon Maria a few days prior to her…death…and that she might have told me something, you must promise me one thing," she told him. "I wish to form part of this as well. I will not be pushed aside, Cullen."
He cocked his head to the side and walked up to her. "Form part of what?" he asked with a relaxed drawl, coming to stand before her. His form towered over her and Bella had to stretch her neck to look up at him. Both stood under the dancing leaves, their swaying motion causing some flickers of sunlight to seep through, to dance across their forms.
She could still not see much of his eyes for the shadows cast by the mask and tree. But she saw the lower part of his chin and jaw. His chin had a slight dip in it, and she saw his mouth tense in unison with the jaw. "I want to find out who killed them as well."
"It is dangerous, there is a reason I hide my face."
"I know it is dangerous. I am prepared for that. I will not put myself into any unnecessary situation," she promised.
She saw him in the midst of making a decision; as if he was wondering if he should give away who he truly was. Bella waited patiently and grew increasingly proud that she had not once backed down this time. "I promise I shall not share this information with anyone else."
He smirked slightly and shifted his head to stare at April. "I think you are the most stubborn woman I have ever encountered," he mused. The friendly smile on her face vanished as he once more teased her. He beheld the comical sight of watching her features settle into an irritated frown.
"Careful, sir. There will be no more teasing of me or my horse, lest you wish to pay for it!"
Another step brought him closer and Bella was reminded of the night under the weeping willow. Now that she had him close enough to feel his breath hit the top of her head, she was reminded of what he truly was. This was a man she was supposed to feel afraid of. Such proximity on his behalf had a faint blush creep up her throat slowly, tediously. It was as if he was testing her boundaries; as if he amused himself by provoking such strange emotions within her.
"And how pray, Miss Swan, would you make me pay?" his velvety voice murmured near her ear and sent a jolt shocking her limbs. She looked up at him and found that the playfulness was gone. He was entirely focused on her and Bella grew further flushed once she realized his eyes had drawn to her lips.
She wanted to back away, but her feet stood as if rooted to the ground like the tree next to them. "You would not want to find out," she dared breathe, afraid of what else she might say. Bella had never found herself in a similar situation or had a man hold such a spell over her. Her breaths deepened in anticipation of what was to come. The danger of being out in the woods with a man whose face she had never seen strangely thrilled her.
Another step brought him so close his body was practically brushing up against hers. A gloved hand came up to her cheek and brushed part of her lower lip. His kidskin glove was of such thin material that she could feel the warmth of his hand through it. "Maybe I would," he whispered huskily, and Bella realized in terror that he was leaning down toward her.
Her eyes widened and she acted without thinking. Her right hand came up with a whoosh, aimed for his cheek. Bella had never planned to slap him, and she never got the chance to. With the quickest reflexes she had ever seen, he gripped the wrist of her hand with his gloved one and regarded her in a tense moment.
"D-do not get the wrong idea, sir!" she stammered with a growing blush as she wrung herself from his grip and placed several meters between them. "I will have you know that Major Collins is courting me and while I will not inform him of our little encounters, I will not accept you treating me thusly."
He sighed and gave a small nod. "Very well. I will respect your boundaries and allow you to be a part of this. But you will only hand me information, Miss Swan. Nothing else."
Bella nodded, still flustered as she hung onto the note like a lifeline and saw him still looking at her. "Good," she forced.
She thought she had made her point rather clearly and straightened the jacket of her riding habit with some pronounced force. Bella hoped her face wasn't too red. She hoped he wouldn't hear the frantic beatings of her heart as her pulse drummed loudly in her ears. She begged that he wouldn't somehow know of the strange butterflies rapidly spreading in her lower abdomen at his nearness. His closeness to her was like alcohol and it made her almost drunk and unable to think rationally.
"I wouldn't want Major Collins after me, now would I?" he blinked playfully at her. She sighed, this man was impossible.
"Two birds and a saint, was what Miss Haste told me last we met," she finally settled. Bella feared that if she provoked him and insisted on speaking with him longer, he would near her again.
The words seemed to stop their prolonged conversation for he turned to his horse and seated it in one graceful swing. He sat comfortably in the saddle like he was one with his animal. "On your return, contact Jacob Black via St. Nicholas if you manage to figure out those words."
"Then you do not know their meaning either?" she asked. She looked as he guided the black beast to go further into the forest, he did not answer her question. "What will you do in the meantime?" she wondered.
He turned around in the saddle. "Keep Forster occupied, of course!" he exclaimed in a burst of decadent laughter and proceeded to dig his heels into the animal's side. The stallion galloped away and before Bella knew it, she was once more alone.
Ever since having interrogated all the soldiers of his garrison, Collins knew that more people than Forster were involved in the corruption. He had signaled out a certain Corporal Richards now as well. But weeks had passed, and the major had yet to act, almost afraid of what would happen if he did.
The evening finally came when Collins asked Forster to come to his office, deciding that it all had to come to an end. Things were escalating and he could no longer wait for Cullen to come forth with some supposedly incriminating evidence against Forster. He ignored the warning the outlaw had given him, deciding that he had to act as the major and highest-ranking officer in Hayes.
Bella had left for Zafra, and if the situation worsened, he knew she would at least not be left in the crossfire. Most had left Hayes for the capital or Wessport and it gave Collins an opportune moment to finally take down the captain. Collins did not need his garrison to look more idiotic with the small tricks played on his soldiers by Cullen.
Forster was called into his office one frigid evening at the end of October. The proud captain went to sit before the cluttered desk with neatly stacked documents. Collins regarded his inferior officer for a long while. Forster was scowling, his icy blue eyes piercing through Collins' very soul. As always, the long hair was impeccably gathered into a low ponytail with a black bow, just as most officers would have at that time. Collins gave Forster a stack of documents for him to read.
A gloved hand reached for the paper as Forster's eyes trailed over them. He looked at each neatly written word and Collins waited as he regarded the stern mask of the soldier before him. Despite himself, he felt a satisfied smirk tug at his lips. When Forster was done, he closed the folder and gave the papers back to Collins.
"Dismissal and imprisonment on what grounds, Major Collins?" asked the low, growling voice of the scowling man before him. Collins was surprised, Forster did not seem too preoccupied with what he had just read.
"On tax fraud, my good captain. It has been made known to me that you have taxed the good people of this district this past summer without the presence or approval of a magistrate and that you presented intentions to keep that money in your own possession."
"Do not tell me this information stems from the same blackguard who broke into the treasury and—"
"I do not associate with thieves and bandits, captain. My source is a different one and quite protected. I also have the necessary documentation to prove that you had no grounds for another taxation so soon." Collins leaned forward with a threatening frown. "I may not be able to prove all that you have done in this district, but you will at least pay for some of your crimes." He wrinkled his nose. "You are a disgrace to the uniform and what it stands for."
Any other man would have pleaded or begged for another way out. Forster could well see decades in prison after the little stunt he had pulled to fill his pocket. Yet, the man was seemingly untouched by such information.
"Is this also the reason you had the whole garrison questioned?" Forster asked as he leaned back in the chair and crossed his fingers in front of him.
"You are not the only one to be sent away, no. The corporal who helped you will also see his life run out in a cell."
Forster nodded slowly, an eerie and wicked smirk tugging at his lips. The frigid October air pressed against the closed window and the fire roared in the chimney next to them. But it was as if its warmth couldn't reach either man.
"You have nothing to say in your defense?" Collins asked.
"I put up with you, sir, because you did not do much in getting in my way—"
"I am your superior officer and you will not speak to me in such an insulting way!" Collins had risen to stand before the captain, not realizing that the latter was merely toying with him.
Forster's smug smirk widened across his harsh features, the angular face twisted to look up at the handsome major. "I think it is time you were taken down from that shining pedestal of yours, major. You have been too comfortable in your position here." Forster reached into his coat and retrieved a folded piece of paper that he handed to the major.
Collins snatched it out of the extended hand and scowled at Forster as he unfolded the paper and started reading. He had not read but three lines before his face grew ashen. The more he read, the smugger Forster became. He went to stand and started pacing about the office.
"One might question why a decorated major might search such a remote post. But I think it quite smart of you. Hayes is removed, you probably thought yourself protected from the big cities here. And, indeed, what a life you could have built here. What a pity. Had you only kept quiet and not irritated me, major," Forster sighed with a shaking head. "Indeed, such a distinguished gentleman, beloved by all here, even dignified enough to catch the attention of lovely Miss Swan and courting her. I must say that I am impressed with the social life you have been able to lead in Hayes. I was never as loved. But, then again, I suppose I did not make the same effort as you," he chuckled.
Collins was now trembling as he regarded words that he had never in his life hoped to read again. But there they were, black on white, standing out like daggers in his eyes.
Forster stopped and turned to Collins. "You could have remained in that comfort and no one would have been the wiser. You can still remain as you are, but keep pestering me, Collins, and everyone in this town, province, and country will be made aware of who you truly are—your rather lacking connections and nonexistent title of gentleman. I wonder what Hayes will do once her favorite son is revealed as a fraud? What will they say when the dashing major is revealed to be nothing more than a common soldier who switched names with a dying officer during the battle of Bordeaux in '91?" Forster wondered.
On that piece of paper, was the wording and signature of several men of stature that confirmed that James Collins, then captain, had succumbed to death in France as Angloa fought the French. Collins never thought it would come back to haunt him. There were also statements of his studies under the French master La Boëssière as a soldier, before his time as Collins, stating he had been kicked out of the academy by the master himself once it was revealed the money financing his fencing studies had been stolen.
"I ignore if you had this real Collins' permission or if you simply stole his clothes off his body. Was it still warm when you switched identities? Did you know he had few friends and no family to identify him? I must know, sir, for it is indeed a great feat!"
By now, the major had gone completely pale. The blackmail Forster held over him was so extensive that if it ever got out, it would truly send him to jail for impersonating an officer. Or worse, it might end in a hanging, the execution reserved only for the most dishonorable criminals in the land.
"You didn't count on the fact that James Collins had some friends of influence, eh?" Forster walked up to him and leered. "But we are friends now that all is revealed—ah…I suppose I should be using your true name, Mr. Miller."
Collins—or Miller as was his true name—couldn't breathe, he couldn't process so much information. Nausea rose and his mind started spinning around as he grew ever more ashen.
"Do sit down, man, lest you faint like a common wench," the captain said, pressing the other down into the chair. He kneeled inches from Collins' face. "Worry not, Miller. I will not spill your secret and these men who signed that paper will not be alerted to your existence. As long as you let me continue my affairs and do not get involved in them, you can continue to live your rather comfortable life. But," Forster added. "I believe you must now remain here in Hayes for the foreseeable future. I cannot have you run off to Safeira and think you rid of me." The paper had been taken from his limp hands and Collins did all in his power to stop shaking.
Forster rose up and patted the major on the shoulder. "Be proud now, lad! It isn't every day that a fishmonger's son rises so high up in society!"
"You—you devil!" Collins growled. He didn't know what else to do but show his anger. Better to show anger than fear.
Forster shook his head. "Do not get any ideas, Miller. Continue as you have, let the occurrences of the past remain there. I should hate it if Miss Swan were suddenly overcome by a burst of melancholia and decided to end her life as well," he sneered.
The words were enough to cause Collins' heart to stop. He knew it then, that he could not go up against Forster for fear of what he might do. Collins was trapped and he grew dismayed by such heart-wrenching information.
"Now, tell me that you will abide by this new arrangement, Major Collins."
He had always had pride, even as a commoner with nothing to his name. Collins—Miller had always strived to do the best he could with his situation…but, he was always scorned. His mother had been a governess and had taught him the ways of the upper classes. He had been given the illusion that if he behaved and acted like a gentleman, he might one day become one in name as well. But life had scorned him. He had wished to learn the art of fencing, like any other gentleman, but they had never had any substantial money. Miller had stolen from his mother's employer when he was in his teen years, joined the military and traveled as a soldier to France. In the uniform, it had been easy to get into the academy, especially with all the money he held. He had not given away his status and they simply supposed him to be a gentleman's son, until it was all revealed and he had to flee in disgrace after having trained under Boëssière for the better of three years.
In Bordeaux, he had made friends with a young and foolish captain who had inherited a fortune after the death of his last living relative. Most of their extended regiment died and it was there, on the battlefield, as the captain took his last breath, that he decided he should also have a nice life and a name that would easier get him through it. Thus, died Miller and Captain James Collins returned to Angloa.
The rest was history.
He did not wish to give it up. Surely, Bella Swan would not scorn him should she ever find out. But he grew frightened of how their relationship might suffer. He knew her father liked him, Charles Swan wanted his daughter to make a powerful connection. Marrying a distinguished gentleman and major was a good connection. If he was revealed as being nothing more than a 'Miller', the father would never consent to their union.
Hayes had suffered thus far, and now it would suffer more as Collins' hands were ultimately tied by the wretch that was Forster. He had no other choice. He was selfish in that regard. Bella Swan was his ultimate goal for he had truly fallen for the girl.
"I will…abide," he said through gritted teeth. It produced a big grin in Forster who took the documents Collins had prepared about him and his imprisonment. He threw them into the fire and watched the accusations burn in the licking flames. The blackmail he placed in the inner pocket of his coat.
"Know that there are more such documents like the one I have. Should anything happen to me, Hayes and Angloa will be made aware of your true identity, Collins. Mark my words."
In the course of thirty minutes, his whole life had once more been turned upside down.
A/N: Ahhhh, another week, another chapter. As always, thank you for the reviews on the previous one, thank you for reading and thank you for all the positive feedback! I have two weeks left of oppositions and exams and then I'm free to post according to the old schedule again! Sweden is lush and green and beautiful now, just how I like it. And I'm glad we're having such short nights and loooong days again. This is my favorite time of the year so excuse me while I go out and sip some tea on the porch now ;)
Cheers,
Isabelle