The Fates (Book I) - 2014 Watty Award Winner!

5.7 - Power

Dear Readers: Let's catch up with Lacey in modern-day Athens...

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Scene 7: Power

A.D. 2015

“Isn’t it all just so lovely?” Lacey sighed, clutching her husband’s arm more closely as they ambled down the streets, the same touristy neighborhood through which she’d walked alone this morning.

“Mm-hmm,” Ryder hummed in monotone assent.

“The people are so friendly,” she remarked, her face a constant mirror of the midday sunshine and the happiness of passersby. “I feel like all their smiles could warm the coldest heart.”

He somehow doubted it. Did not say so aloud, of course.

They passed by a shop that appeared to sell locally made lotions and ointments. “Oh—” she gestured toward the storefront, “—are you still sure we shouldn’t get something for your hand, honey?”

He nodded, continuing at a steady pace right past the shop, Lacey trailing along with both hands around his bicep as always. “Yeah, it’s really all better.”

Indeed it was; he’d woken up without the faintest trace of irritation on his finger. As if the ring had never even been there.

When he’d awoken this morning—Lacey sitting upright in the bed, pillow propped against the headboard, flipping through a European magazine—Ryder had stared at the ring on his nightstand awhile. Lain still, his back toward her as it had been while he had slept, so that she couldn’t see his open eyes. Stared at the wedding band until the sight of it, and what it signified, was seared into his mind. Long enough to leave a mark as severe as the metal had left on his skin.

Not long enough to blot out the brown eyes from his dreams, though he had tried. Ten minutes staring at the ring seemed far too long—ten centuries might not even have sufficed, besides.

So with the memory of other eyes still heavy on his mind, he’d shifted in the bed, to meet the sky-blues of his bride. And she had smiled, and he had mirrored it. Upon his face, at least. Warm though her smile was, it couldn’t breach the cage of ice around his heart.

They had begun the day together, going through the motions of a honeymoon. Neither was sure what it was supposed to feel like, being married. They imagined what it should be, to the best of their ability, and carried on throughout the day in imitation of that faraway ideal.

Then they had sat down to a bounteous buffet brunch at the hotel’s rooftop restaurant. As per usual, Lacey had piled leafy salad and fresh fruit onto her plate, and a bran muffin just for decoration, proceeding to barely touch any of it. But Ryder had known better than to question that. It never went well when he tried to talk about her eating habits.

She had briefly considered telling him about her earlier bite of baklava, to reassure him that she was consuming calories today. Far too many already, in fact. But she herself had been actively trying to forget about having eaten that, so she’d figured it would be silly to share the fact with someone else and thereby make it harder to deny.

Anyhow, here they were now strolling through the neighborhoods of Athens. Lacey realized that the bakery was close by on this block on which they presently walked. She recalled the baker girl, wondering how her ‘breaky heart’ was doing. Hoped that her pretty, customer-friendly smile was becoming less strained and painful as the day wore on.

 “Has she been bothering you yet today?” Ryder asked, breaking through his wife’s thoughts, in a gentle voice with genuine concern.

Lacey blinked. “Hm?” she realized soon enough whom he had meant. “Oh, my mother? Not yet. I guess it’s still quite early back in the States.”