In the Rain – Chapter 5
Disclaimer: See first chapter.
AN: Yay! Another chapter! The Big Fluff Moment! But first, I must note that I am using the name 'Sirkar' for Danric's servant, which I got from Blazing-moon's The Brilliant Dance. If you haven't read that story yet, read it, it is awesome!
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Point of View: Vidanric (A short bit, it soon switches to Mel.)
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I swung out of the saddle and dropped noiselessly to the ground beside my mount. My riding hat hid my eyes as they darted here and there around the village's dark pavilion; I strained my ears for a moment more and heard only the hard breathing of my charger.
Satisfied that I was the only thing astray in this little town, I had soon given the charger into the sleepy care of a young stablehand – who became the first person in months that hadn't made some deference to my status. For a moment the whole slogging trip seemed worth it, just for that refreshing feel of anonymity, helped along by my riding cloak and hat.
I changed my mind as soon as I entered the rendezvous point, the village's quiet, dimly lit inn. The main room, to my tired eyes, was strikingly similar to the one in Lumm, if one disregarded the fact that it was empty for the night instead of bustling. Thinking of the inn at Lumm made me think of Mel… or maybe it was the other way around. I really was tired.
The innkeeper, a man robust yet soft-spoken from years of necessity, emerged to still these thoughts and lead me to a small room. He left me with the promise of listerblossom tea, his thick frame padding out quietly so as to disconcert my tired mind. I gave my head a shake, tossed my hat and cloak away, and let myself sink slowly onto the nearest cushion.
At least my jarring, blazing gallop of a ride was complete. I smiled faintly as I thought of my words to Mel, not two days ago: "It is a rare event when we both manage to get out of the palace and into the saddle." What I wouldn't give to be back in that palace with her right now.
Instead, I had gotten a season's worth of riding time in the short hours since word had arrived from one of my contacts. It had been late afternoon, and the letter had arrived at the chambers where my parents and I had been methodically discussing tactics. My father merely pursed his lips when I had finished reading it aloud; we all knew that I would have to leave immediately.
The letter was just that urgent. Thankfully, it also brought the promise of our single clue to exposing Flauvic's true motives: my men in a city north of Athanarel had discovered one of his old acquaintances, a former page in the Sles Aldran court who had been sent home in disgrace before his training was complete. He was now in virtual exile from his family and home, traveling through Remalna to fill his days. The mere mention of Flauvic's name had been enough to secure the man's testimony, and with my troops as escort, he was now set to meet me within the time-change.
The tapestry whispered open and the innkeeper reappeared, carrying a steaming mug in one large, careful hand. Glancing at my expression, he set it wordlessly down and left me.
With nothing now to do but wait and drink the invigorating tea, my thoughts wandered back to Meliara. My parents undoubtedly knew she was the one I had gone to see while my servant, Sirkar, packed a hasty saddlebag. It was one of those times I was thankful for that trait of tact both my parents seemed to personify – they had asked no questions, just let me go.
In the end, I hadn't found Mel in her rooms. Of course. She knew better than to squander her – presumably – final days in Athanarel there. So I had written her a scrawling note with her own pen and paper, dismissing any considerations about disguising my handwriting. If she made the connection… well, I would surely hear about it when I got back.
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Point of View: Meliara
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Scattered rays of light bounded and flashed from my sapphire ring all the next day. I felt like one of those rays of light, darting around the ballroom to oversee the last of the preparations for Nee's Adoption Ball. There were performers to greet, servants to direct, details to oversee – life would not stop in its tracks just for my discovery. I had spent the previous night trying not to worry about a certain absent Marquis' safety, while contemplating a course of action to take when said individual returned safely to Athanarel – but both efforts had proved entirely fruitless.
"Countess! Is this to your liking?" Snapping to the present, I spun around to see a young servant gesturing anxiously to some cushion arrangements. I nodded and smiled, then clapped my hands together as I surveyed the ballroom.
"Everything looks lovely! The guests of honor will be sure to enjoy your work tonight," I told the servants and performers. They smiled or nodded or bowed at the compliment, and I was soon flying off to dress for the evening.
It seemed just moments later that the ballroom bustled with delighted guests. Exquisitely costumed, they filled the dance floor, chattered happily about Bran and Nee's upcoming ceremony, and praised everything from the unique decorations to my choice of entertainment. Surveying the bubbling room, I didn't notice Flauvic's presence next to me until he spoke.
"Finally enjoying one of your triumphs, I see."
I started in spite of the silky tone he used. Turning, I scrutinized him through narrowed eyes, hoping I would find in his face some justification for the prickly danger feeling he induced in me now. There was nothing, of course, but blank politeness and a gentle smile framed by that golden hair. Not to mention the rest of his handsome personage, clad in striking black and white.
We exchanged a few comments of greeting while I wondered when exactly he had arrived and, more importantly, how I could remove myself from his vicinity. The memory of our strange meeting in the gardens was still raw, although he did not refer to it. I steadied myself with the thought that he would very unlikely reprise it here in the crowded ballroom.
Finally, I was able to sweep a curtsy that implied farewell. "A triumph through your eyes is a true compliment. I thank you."
I turned to go, but a half smile formed on his perfect lips. "Ah, Countess. You cannot tell me you are so blind to all your recent successes," he said. Curiosity stayed my wary feet, while Flauvic, who never endured such indecision, merely leaned forward across the pace or so between us.
"Or perhaps you are so not blind after all," he murmured, his coin-glinting eyes quite close to mine. "After all, you can't see what is not there… and he does seem to be absent tonight, does he not?"
I opened my mouth to reply – though I had no idea with what – just as a carrying voice rang out behind me. "Meliara! You simply must grant me the honor of a dance with the season's most sensational hostess."
Whipping around, I found Savona smiling down at me and offering his arm. I seized it gratefully and mumbled some parting words to Flauvic, whose eyes suddenly reminded me of the placid, gleaming surface of deep water.
Savona swept me gallantly across the floor and into the next dance, busying my mind all the while with compliments even more frivolous than his usual. It wasn't until we neared the end of the song, when the dance's steps distanced each pair from its neighbors, that he revealed his true motive. Leaning close when the dance permitted, he murmured rather tersely, "Did Danric not put you on your guard? Don't tell me you still do not trust his judgment."
This may have been the first serious utterance I had ever heard from Savona, but I didn't take the time to marvel at it.
"Why! I do – but how do you mean – on my guard?"
He let out a breath at this, then shook his head. "Danric sent me a note before he left – I thought he sent one to you as well."
"True enough. But mine said nothing very… specific. About the reason he left, I mean," I rambled, then immediately hoped that Savona would not think to long on the significance of my words. "What did you learn from yours?" I added quickly.
"Not much. Just that he was riding out and that the situation is turbulent. The postscript was the most ominous – a vote of distrust against Flauvic. Danric doesn't make such statements lightly. I took it to heart, clearly."
I nodded as we stepped through the last measures of the dance. We exchanged compliments of parting, but my tone flat was with preoccupation. Savona paused and looked at me keenly.
"Nothing awry – besides the obvious – I trust?"
I waved a hand. "I'm trying to focus on being a good hostess for Bran and Nee, making tonight one of their happiest – but my thoughts just want to keep scampering off." I glanced down at my ring for a moment, ruefully, and looked up to see a shrewdly pleased expression on Savona's face.
"Scampering off to be with the one who sent you that ring, perhaps?"
I blushed hotly in reply – at which Savona grinned, looking as boyishly pleased as I had ever seen him.
"Perhaps," I said quietly, smiling just a little. With one final grin and a salute Savona left me alone, for which I was thankful. Retreating in quick order to the refreshments, I wondered improbably if half the court would know about my change of heart before the evening was over.
At the serving table I didn't find the solitude I had hoped for – but the information I would next receive would more than make up for it. Accepting a glass of bluewine with gratitude, I turned to see Elenet not far off, sipping a drink of her own, and gazing absently at the dancing couples. Like a tidal wave, all the emotions regarding this thoughtful, discreet lady, the future king, and the goldenwood throne – as mentioned in the letter from my "Unknown" – came rushing back to me. I swallowed, and having not yet conversed with her during the evening, made my way over.
"Elenet," I began, curtsying in the proper manner. "I do hope you're enjoying yourself tonight."
She smiled gently. "It is a lovelier night than one can often expect, even in as grand a place as Athanarel."
I thanked her warmly; her words were always heartfelt and carefully spoken. After a few minutes of discourse on the general amusements of the evening, I found that Elenet and I were on as cordial terms as ever, though she did seem a bit more downcast than usual. Having not made any great discoveries to settle my thoughts on the situation concerning the throne, I resolved to let everything be. I would simply not think of anything except Bran and Nee's happiness until their ball – until their wedding, even – was happily concluded. With this in mind, I was about to say farewell to Elenet and circulate, when she stopped me with a word.
"Danric – "
I spun to face her and she began again, in a quick, soft voice. "He isn't here tonight, but I know he would be, if he could. He told me – he said that, for him, every other preparation might as well be forgotten, as he would… He would come solely to see if you would assent to one dance with him." Her fingers played over her fan involuntarily, though she made no move to alter her words with it. "I couldn't have you think ill of him for not coming."
I took a deep breath, then said quietly, "I've made that mistake before – I won't again. Not ever." She smiled, a small smile. I knew she understood everything – probably better than myself, or her friend, at this point. I shook my head, and curtsied, and continued to murmur my thanks even after she had walked away.
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The remainder of the evening past with swift joy. The guests marveled at the lithe scarf dancers and the ancient songs; soon I was bidding them all a restful sleep. The Prince and Princess were some of the first to leave, making particularly courteous compliments and seeming to glance at me with a new, subdued intensity. I shrugged at this, reckoning that everything seemed alternately intense and hazy when one hadn't slept for a few too many candles.
The gray sky was just beginning to lighten with the palest pink tinge in the east as the last guests disappeared. Fresh servants busily began the clean up, and memories were soon the only evidence of the night's happenings. At the grand open doorway I looked back once more on the dissolving picture of one of my most memorable nights in Athanarel – and felt a hand flit out of the stillness to touch my arm.
I yelped and sprang away, heart racing and an inarticulate gasp on my lips, only to turn and look into a certain pair of gray eyes just as shocked as my own. The accompanying hand retreated hastily.
Rather hoarsely, Shevraeth began, "I didn't intent to – "
"You've returned – already!" I interrupted. No worries of failed decorum could squelch my enthusiasm. Tingling happiness flooded me, a feeling I knew to be mutual, despite the weariness and stress that strained his smile.
"I hoped to find you here." He motioned quickly down the side of the stone building. There, a dusty riding, a stranger clad in earth-tones, and Azmus – Azmus? – were waiting. He looked back at me intently. "We've just arrived. There have been no disturbances in the city, the court?"
I shook my head distractedly. "No, as far as I know. What's happening?"
His eyes raked the landscape before returning to mine. "Suffice it to say, you've a powerful intuition. The stranger with us there is Maro Drabel – he's told us more than enough to warrant a small confrontation with Lord Flauvic. I was afraid – "
A muscle in his jaw jumped as he looked at me. "It's magic, Mel. Dark magic. Flauvic can threaten the whole of Athanarel, even Remalna. That's what you picked up on. We must get to him, immediately."
For a moment my racing mind worked to take this in. But there was only time to accept it – so I tried to think quickly. I offered, "Flauvic left the party at the same time as the other guests – I can only assume to return to the Merindar house."
Shevraeth gave a short nod, and then signaled the riding leader, who waited a discreet distance away. In a flurry of movement the riding was geared up and in formation to move. Azmus and Drabel dismounted and made their way stiffly toward the building. Watching them, I sensed eyes studying my face.
I glanced up, and Shevraeth said, "Please see to Azmus and Drabel, Mel. They'll be able to tell you the rest – but we have to move."
"You're leaving me behind?" I squawked in disbelief.
He looked down. "It's dangerous. Especially for you. Heart doesn't count when your opponent has none at all." He glanced at the ridings' horses as they whickered nervously, then back at me. "Will you take them up to my chambers and wait?"
The feeling of a knot twisting itself tight behind my navel intensified – but I bit my tongue and nodded.
"Thank you," he said. "My parents will most likely join you before I return."
He strode to his horse and mounted up, gave me one quick look of reassurance. I felt the color draining from my face as he rode off. What would Flauvic do when he found himself cornered? I swallowed hard.
"Countess?" said Azmus hoarsely. He squinted at me, motionless under the cold sunrise.
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Sirkar, whose name I learned for the first time that morning, threw wide for us the doors to the royal chambers. I was too fairly out of sorts to notice much of the rooms myself, other than an invitingly functional and comfortable aspect. Our party had just gathered to kneel at a small table and gulp tea when the Prince and Princess Renselaeus, attired in night clothes and dressing robes, entered gravely after us.
Some rusting ensued – the majority issuing from my billowing ball gown – as we hastened to stand and display appropriate deference. The Princess saw Alaerec to an empire-style chair by the fire and shook head grimly. "There's no need for court frivolities. You are tired."
We sank in unison to our respective seats. Princess Elestra thanked Sirkar for notifying them and bade him stay to listen, if he wished, which surprised me just a little. I took the time to observe Drabel, aware that everything Vidanric was doing was based on his word.
He was quite a young man. His face was most noticeably very tired, though he did have a long nose and chin as well. His hair was dark and wavy, worn long in the aristocratic style, and the color matched his eyes, though they were closed more often than not as he drank his tea. I noted too that his clothes were well-made, but common, and didn't quite match his manners and hair.
Then the Prince spoke. "We know only that our son has just returned and is taking a riding to apprehend Lord Flauvic at this moment. The details, and reasons, we hope you can explain. Is our knowledge thus far correct, Lady Meliara?"
"Yes," I said. "I know little more than yourselves. But Azmus, whom you may remember from last year, and Maro Drabel, the Marquis' informant on Flauvic's past, may end some part of our ignorance."
The couple fixed their eyes intently on the men, who in return tried to execute polite half-bows while sitting. Drabel, clearing his throat, glanced at me before beginning.
"You seem to have all been deceived as to Flauvic's true character, though unfortunately, I cannot even show surprise on the matter. You have not the knowledge of his past that I do." He set down his teacup, fingers shaking slightly from tiredness, or nerves, or both.
"It is well told that Flauvic Merindar was a page in the Sles Aldran court. I was as well. But I did not complete the training."
Here Drabel paused and caught my eyes. "Meliara Astair – Countess of Tlanth. Correct? The Marquis mentioned you. He said that you were noticing particularly unsettling, eerie sensations while in Flauvic's presence." I nodded.
"You may have, though I know nearly nothing of the gift myself, a sensitivity, an awareness, to magic. It is Flauvic's pet and secret weapon, more powerful that the standard knife-up-the-sleeve. I saw him by chance while he practiced a spell, one using Dark magic. I barely recognized it for what it was then, but when he realized my knowledge, he made certain that just the right events occurred to send me away from Sles Aldran disgraced."
"Could you not have alerted someone? Turned Flauvic in?" said Elestra quietly.
"A discharge from the court is an irrevocable mark – one my family holds to me with shame and disgust. Not even exposing Flauvic would change that. As well, no one in Sles Aldran would lower themselves to listen to my account in the first place."
I shuddered. "So Flauvic is really master of that type of power? Dark magic?"
"It has been six years since I witnessed his ability. If he has continued to improve… I do not favor underestimating him."
No one spoke for several moments. How did one respond to such an ominous warning? I knew both the royal couple and I, at least, were trying to swallow down a sudden sense of dread. Drabel shifted self-consciously on his cushion, likely nervous after such a long speech, regretful of the bad news he had just delivered. Empathy prompted me to end the silence, and when neither Azmus nor the Renselaeuses spoke, I turned to my old friend.
"Azmus, how exactly did you manage to meet up with the Marquis' party? …That's one I hadn't figured on."
"It was quite a coincidence, my lady," he said slowly. "Or at least I believe it to be." He shrugged a shoulder. "The short account is that two parties riding headlong for the same destination are bound to meet up under such circumstances. Lord Vidanric knew of me as soon as I identified myself; I was anxious to tell him of the knowledge I had just – "
I interrupted Azmus with a gasp: Shevraeth appeared suddenly in the chamber doorway, his face drawn and bloodless. He motioned stiffly to dismiss his escort, who hesitated, but complied when the royal couple as well as Sirkar moved swiftly to him. Azmus, Drabel, and I rose and stood anxiously to the side. As the Renselaeuses exchanged urgent words with their son, I finally knew how frightened they had been. Elestra's face, turned upward to the taller Marquis', changed with instinct and concern at his every phrase. Alaerec leant forward and gripped his son's shoulder briefly.
They conversed for several moments, and then the Princess stepped back, and the Prince murmured one last word to Shevraeth, his eyes flitting over both Azmus and I. The Marquis attempted to clear his head with a shake, nodded once, and painstakingly tread over to the cushions to kneel. My bones ached suddenly in sympathy.
"Lady Meliara." I looked to the Princess – and become conscious that she just been watching me watch her son. Her voice became soft. "We know all we require this morning, and will gladly see our guests to some chambers. May I trust that we can count on Sirkar and yourself to see to my son's wellbeing? Take care to not let him to the stables until he's had rest. The time it takes to explain events to your satisfaction should at least be long enough to get tea and some vigor in him."
Azmus, Drabel, and the Renselaeuses filed out; the large room was now empty but for myself and the two men. Sirkar was deftly serving tea, his back to me. Shevraeth sat with his eyes lightly closed. Feeling nervous, then extremely foolish, I resolved to do what had been asked of me, nothing more, nothing… I paused where I stood, watching the lines of the Marquis' face as he took a breath of the steamy listerblossom scent. This was certainly not the time to speak out such a distracting, personal revelation.
So I resolved.
I paced over to a cushion facing his and kneeled, with some little trouble; my gown simply wanted to billow and rustle and almost puff into his lap. It did have the effect of opening his eyes and bringing a very faint smile to his lips. He silently handed me a fresh cup of tea before taking the first drink of his own, then signaling a dismissal to Sirkar.
Pretending to busy myself with sipping, I scrutinized him over the rim of my cup. A bit more color in his face – if only I could trace the lines of weariness in his face with my fingers, make them disappear…
I realized I had been staring – just as he looked up from his tea quizzically. "Something wrong?"
Stammering, I said, "No. I, well. You look dreadful – ah, dreadfully tired, I mean to say –"
His eyelids flickered with humor at this. "So worried I'll pass out, or perhaps dash for the stables, that you must keep me firmly fixed in your sights at all times, I gather?"
I sputtered into my tea – then caught his expression, and laughed. "Of course! I must do as I was told."
"Then I suppose now I must attempt to relate a comprehendible version of recent events," he said, setting down his teacup.
I leaned forward intently. "Was anyone hurt? Where's Flauvic?"
"Everyone is alright. For the moment, anyway, though things are still quite far from over. As for Flauvic's whereabouts, I just sincerely wish I knew."
"He's missing?" I said, shocked. "Was the house just deserted when you got there? I should've known he'd leave Athanarel as soon as – "
"The house was not deserted," he interrupted. "Though the outcome would have been the same if it had been, in general respects. We encircled the grounds, were even able to make our way inside the house without raising awareness. I located and confronted Flauvic personally. But – " He stopped, then spoke on flatly. "There was nothing we possessed with which to fight him."
"How – so he used magic in front of you!"
He grimaced. "You could say as much," he said, unconsciously putting a hand to his ribs. I stared, and then looked up at him, startled.
"You said everyone was alright," I charged him.
"We are," he said firmly. "I am. I'm sitting here talking to you. Not bleeding, not dying. Moving a little stiffly, I'll admit, but I can't see that I'm much worse off than that… When we cornered Flauvic, he seemed to realize that the whole of the country would soon know of his secrets and plots. He was able to conjure up something – a whirlwind of fog and light – to disappear. Just before he was gone, he sent me a small token of his sentiments. Hit me in the ribs, there was no chance of blocking it."
Here I must have looked alarmed, for he said, "It could not have been a very powerful spell. I was dizzy for a few moments, but then all the fog and light lifted away. I reckon that spell has only the result of startling one's opponent, and leaving them with the pleasant after-effects of aching bones and heavy eyelids."
I shook my head at his light tone. "It's a good thing your parents can still order you take time to rest. What do you need to be riding off for in such hurry anyway?"
"Azmus, as well as my own spies, have found that Arthal Merindar and Grumareth have chosen now to strike. As soon as things are organized, I'll ride out to settle the matter, hopefully to some little surprise on their side. Azmus also uncovered a bit of knowledge my own people missed... Though I'm afraid I don't think you will enjoy the hearing."
I waited for him to go on. He said, "On a road heading for the mountain forests, Azmus by chance discovered the plotters' devised method to pay their mercenaries. Disguised as wagons full of paving stones, there are even now loads of dried kinthus being moved towards the colorwood forests."
"The Hill Folk!" I yelped. I made to turn and scramble to my feet. His strong, slender hand shot out to catch my elbow and still me, however, before I could rise above a kneel.
"I've already arranged for riders to intercept the wagons," he explained quickly, looking as if he needed to justify his hold on my elbow.
I shook my head. "If the riders aren't able to neutralize the kinthus in time – I should go now to warn the Hill Folk. I'm probably the only person inside a week's ride that knows how so well."
"You needn't. The riders have my complete confidence – "
"Mine as well! But I have the knowledge to make something important turn out right for once – I can't sit here and do nothing. If the Hill Folk were harmed and I could have prevented it…"
After a moment the worry in his face seemed to carefully smooth itself away. He took his hand from my arm. "You must do as you believe. I merely… The thought of you flinging yourself headlong into this conflict senselessly is unbearable."
"I have to do what I can! Are you just trying to remind me that I'm ill-trained to defend myself against anything save a flock of stray sheep? Or – " I caught my tongue. I really didn't want to start my belligerence with him again. Not now, after everything.
He replied, "No. I simply do not think I need to recall you to the scar on your ankle to remind you that you have been seriously injured in the past. You've been hurt before, you could be hurt again."
"As could you!" I said hotly.
He stared at me. Then through me. And then I realized what I had just said, and wondered for a nervous moment how he would reply – Or had I just given my feelings away? Would that be so very bad, if he found out right now?
He just held up his hands, a wry look of acceptance on his face. "Alright. I will not try to persuade you stay where it's safe, especially when I would not offer to do so myself."
And then he smiled slightly, his eyes on my own. For the first time that day they seemed truly warm, relaxed. I knew how very alive and expressive they could be, when he chose, and when we were both sitting, they were only slightly above my own. His smile too was real, and understanding, the corners of his mouth deep now. And I saw, so near, how soft his lips looked – something I would have cringed at a year ago.
His face then changed, subtly but with meaning. He was still. The smile was replaced by parted lips, and he watched my face with a tender concentration. I knew I had to say something, but my thoughts swirled slowly, and my eyes stayed fixed on his.
Then I realized that it didn't really matter what I said. It was what the words would mean to him that would make all the difference.
The air hung heavy between us still, and then I reached instinctively through it to place my hand to his chest. For reality, for aid; I could feel every rapid beat of his heart, the warmth of his tunic against my palm.
"Vidanric," I said softly. His eyes grew wider and deep, and my heart began to hammer. "Will you now… Tell me, what was that area of life in which I have still to educate myself?"
He leant infinitesimally closer, and his chest expanded warm against my hand as he took a breath; his lips began to form the word that I already knew. But I didn't need to make that discovery over. I needed him to know what I felt. So I leaned forward and covered his lips with my own.
There was one nervous jolt, at that first touch when my stomach turned over – but then he was pressing back against me, sweetly and with a passion that made my skin tingle. He tilted his head and brushed his lips against mine again and again and I floated away and met him each time. I shivered as his fingers traced a slow line along my jaw, then drew back to curl in the hair behind my ear.
He pulled away and we sat breathing and looking at each other. "Mel," he said softly. His eyes were bright. "Please tell me that – that wasn't just to satisfy our wager."
I laughed and blushed at once, and sounded out a ringing "no". His chest swelled, and the next thing I knew he was pulling my face close, dotting kisses from my brow to my cheek to my lips, I curled my arms around his neck, returning the kisses that started as light as a brush of wind and grew in force until I could hear my own summer thunder. Eventually we separated to breathe, my lips moist and tingling. Vidanric leaned his forehead against mine, looked at me like he never wanted to be farther than an arm's length away again.
He touched my cheek with the back of his hand. "Your face is so warm," he remarked.
I grinned. "So is yours," I said, running the tips of my fingers along his cheekbone, lightly grazing his flushed lips. He caught my hand and kissed it, then sat back and returned my smile.
"I guess you already know about this, then," he said. From his back pocket he pulled his riding gloves, then turned them over; from one of the fingers fell my ekirth ring, and he caught it and slid it on.
"Mmm," I said, nodding. "Yesterday I took Bran to see the pictures of our mother's ancestors. When I was touring the rest of the gallery again by myself, I saw the portrait of your ancestor, wearing a ring that looked, ah, rather familiar." He laughed at my lightness, then sobered.
"Were you very distressed when you found out? That I was your 'Unknown', I mean?"
I said, "I was surprised – I can't tell you how very surprised. And then I just wanted to find you, so we could straighten everything out, but you were away, and all this happened, and I couldn't think how to tell you…" I waved my hands.
"Your method was most satisfactory," he said, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "I assure you."
I couldn't think of anything to say to that, so I blushed and looked away, and caught sight of the rising sun through the window.
"How could I forget – we don't have time to waste!" I started to struggle to my feet. Vidanric got up gracefully – though somewhat slowly, I noted – and helped me up.
"Don't fret. Sirkar's probably just now finished repacking my saddlebags," he told me.
"You're sure you feel well enough to ride?" I asked, peering up at his face.
He leaned close. "Right now," he said, "I feel well enough to do just about anything." He kissed me softly. "Once you're changed and have your gear, come to the stables. We'll be waiting for you."
I had never dressed so quickly.
- - - - -
AN: Waaah! Screams of joy, sighs of relief. Chapter 5 is complete! Did you ever think this moment would come? Did you? Actually, don't answer that.
Heh, well. Time for comments and thanks. There are many this time around!
First, a huge round of applause for all you lovely reviewers! To denote your awesomeness and spiffy vibes, I list your names here: Starlight77, Legofiance, Darkness Echo, Altheas of Elessar, Dumbledore's Heir, MysticRainbow, ...., Rundiamhair, starbrush, StarGirl98, Sailacel, FelSong, PhoenixMage, Rane292007, thekeeperofwords, Rhiannon Blume Freeman, Queen's Own, Posy, Autumn Faery, Margery, chutney, mooseyfate, Squirrel Maiden of Green, Wake-Robin, SoccerFreak2516, and Danric-Lover.
You Rock! – Also, double thanks for my awesome proof-readers Jackie and Felicia! (I can always use more, if anyone feels like it.)
Next, comments. Actually, whiny-sounding apologies. I totally realize it's been, about, umm… let's just say, a really, really, really long time since I updated. The main reason for that is me procrastinating. You know when you have something all planned out in your head, but then when you go to write it, it just doesn't seem to flow? Yeah, that's this chapter. I tend to get writer's block big time when I'm afraid I'll totally screw up a scene I really want to turn out well. My other random excuses include pit orchestra, school, job training, school, getting new computers, school, and… I said school, right?...
Chapter 6: Hope to have it done by the end of July. It may be the end, or if I can't fit in everything, there might be a chapter 7. Another big plot element is developing, there are some hints of it in this chapter.
So let's see… last thing! Review Begging Time! How was this chapter? Was everyone in character? Out of character? (Noooo!) How was the Big Fluff Moment? Fluffy enough for ya? Or too fluffy? Did it seem like I rushed through all the plot stuff to get to it? cough Let me know your thoughts, all you generous, loyal, forgiving (hint, hint) reviewers! (Criticisms are certainly most welcome. :-)
Shannon