In the Rain – Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

Point of View: Meliara

AN: Kudos to Master of Sarcasm, the source of inspiration leading to this AU continuation of In the Rain. Will include eventual fluff, Mel's mettlesome thoughts and denial, and all that might have happened if Mel and Danric became closer friends earlier in the book.

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I slid off my horse in the shadow of the stables, a dull thump sounding as my boots met the ground. My heart pounded to a staccato beat, only faintly reminding me of the music that had recently immersed me.

A soft nuzzling against my hand made me look down. My chestnut mare gave a soft whinny that, in my current state of mind, I could only interpret as concern. I sent the horse a shaky grin.

"You remind me of the mountain ponies in Tlanth," I muttered. "Intuitive." I sighed and patted the mare, working to marshal my thoughts into rational order. I wanted to avoid worried glances from the stablehands when I returned the horse to their care. Still, how anyone could function normally, after an encounter like the one I had just had, was beyond me.

It was now sundown. I stared past the stables, not really seeing the beautiful scarlet glow.

The day had started well.

I was finally nearing the end of my preparations for Nee's Adoption Ball and I had ridden into the city to listen to the hired musicians. Their music was serene and provocative in turns; my guests would be enjoying it in a few short days. Then on my ride back to Athanarel I had enjoyed the opportunity, for the first time in weeks, to mull over parts of my life that did not concern tartelandes, ancient fashions, or even chimerical gardens.

To be specific, I was daydreaming about the encounter I had chanced with Shevraeth a few weeks ago.

Wait a second. Daydreaming?

No.

Examining. A much more appropriate word.

Now then. The examination had begun with my thoughts on the most recent letter from my Unknown. The letter was characteristically enjoyable and I was looking forward to receiving the next one. The only matter that irked me about our exchange was a certain feeling I could not shake: that words were being left unwritten.

I had been unable to come up with a suitable response to that letter concerning Shevraeth, his future queen, and the goldenwood throne. So the Unknown and I had reverted to our earlier topics of conversation, which, while enjoyable, nonetheless left me feeling as if I had briefly glimpsed some rare treasure, but had been too afraid to plunge forward and seize it.

Thinking about that letter led me to think about Shevraeth. This was a natural progression of thought, of course, as the letter had been about him. Perfectly reasonable, and my thoughts were nothing out of the ordinary. I was simply examining some of our conversations, remembering a few details. I studiously ignored the fact that the exercise was unduly agreeable.

What I did dwell upon, somewhat, was that we had shared almost no contact in the past month. A handful of short conversations at parties and the like, but nothing particularly personal. It was just plain odd, I decided. We had toasted to our friendship; now all I felt was lonely.

I had been fully immersed in such thoughts for much of my ride home. As I reached the end of my journey, inside the gardens surrounding Athanarel, my way had led me past a certain notorious arbiter of taste. Flauvic Merinder.

His golden eyes and matching halo of hair positively glinted in the rays of the setting sun. He was sitting at the base of a tree reading a book. But not just sitting, in the way the average person might. He was lounging, in every sense of the word. Arranged perfectly idyllically, positioned to showcase his physique and his beguiling, immaculate beauty. Looking utterly relaxed. Looking eminently powerful.

In short, I slowed my horse and stared.

And allowed for our subsequent conversation to occur, a conversation that had me now feeling like a little bird caught in a windstorm.

As I was undoubtedly meant to feel.

I shuddered as I watched the velvety sky turn deep red and violet. I could still not put my finger on the reason Flauvic's presence had so unsettled me. Which, of course, disturbed me further. My horse chose this moment to let out a decisive whinny.

"Thank you keeping me company, anyway," I sighed. "I'll let the stablehands have you now. I should not allow… him… to ruin both our days."

The mare issued another whinny, extending her neck and pricking up her ears. I finally noticed the approach of another rider and the measured sound of clopping hooves and paused, waiting to greet the fellow rider. Out of the warm glow of color appeared the man who would be the source of my second notable encounter of the day. Shevraeth, hair and clothes enticingly disarranged from his ride, swung to the ground in front of me with a genuine smile.

My recent unsettling encounter explained away my quickened heartbeat, of course.

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AN: I finally updated! I realize this was quite short - sorry! I have a whole awesome plot thought out for this story. It isn't too long and involves much fluff. I hope to write, and possibly update, frequently over my winter break. The next chapter details Mel's encounter with Shevraeth in which the plot and fluff start to take off. You will find out what all occurred between Mel and Flauvic; it is not all that traumatic, so don't worry. Mel will tell Shevraeth all that happened - I just thought it would be boring to explain it twice. -Shannon