The Whipping Tree

I: Lavender and Viridian

I

Lavender and Viridian

Several Months Ago

         “Miss Joaneveive?”

         She jumps and kicks her bag underneath the bed. “Yes?” She knows she sounds nervous, but she can’t help the tremble that creeps into her voice whenever she is anxious.

         “You have a visitor, Miss Joaneveive,” says a maid from the doorway.

         Joan frowns and wonders who the visitor could be.

         It can’t be Boone, can it? We agreed to meet on the trail. Has he changed his mind? Joan’s heart plummeted to her stomach. What’s happened? The thought of his rash but altogether enticing proposal going badly makes her pulse race.

*

         “I may be moving back to Myndelwhir.”

         “What?” She stops breathing for a moment and twists around to look at him. “Why?”

         “My uncle is getting old,” he says uncomfortably, forcing her to turn back around. “He wishes to live in Myndelwhir and I can’t let him go alone. We still own the plot of land I grew up on.”

         “Oh.” Joan knows it wouldn’t be right for her to try and dissuade him from going because she realizes how important family is, but that does nothing to stop the ache already settling in her chest. “When do you leave?”

         “Next week,” he murmurs into her hair with his head resting on her shoulder. “Run away with me.”

         “What?” She struggles against his arms to face him again.

         He freezes. His arms grow stiff around her midsection and Joan can see his jaw clenching and unclenching.

         “What?” It is his “I love you” all over again, but this time there is something heavier being gambled and Joan is afraid their relationship will proceed past what is safe, their situation precarious already.

         “I…” His demeanour changes. He sits up straighter, pulling her along with him, and unlocks his arms. Turning her around, he says again, “Run away with me for a while. I’m leaving and I would do anything not to lose you.”

         Joan is taken aback by his suggestion and splutters out, “Can’t I ask my mother for permission?” She quails under his surprisingly sceptical expression.  He has good reason to look at her like that—her mother would never let her travel with Boone accompanied by no less than two or three guards.

         “Just for a while.”

         Her mind races with all the things that could go wrong. They could be ambushed on the road, robbed, tied up and left for the next travellers to find. They could lose their way.

         And what would happen once we return home? Joan shudders at the thought.

         “Boone, my parents would be frightened and furious,” she whispers.

        “Aren’t you always wondering what it’s like outside of Brevinham? All your questions?” He digs his fingers into the dirt. “I would miss you, Joan. Terribly.”

         He has been more than a friend for months now. Though he cannot compare to Tomas in how he knows her, the thought of being separated from Boone makes her tremble as much as the thought of escaping with him.