Before you begin this story, I must warn you first. This is not a tale of dashing knights and lovely damsels awaiting rescue. It is not the tale of happy endings, with birdsong and rides into the sunset. It is a tale of light magic and dark, of drag...
Narens - sixth month of the year; beginning of summer
KRYSSA
Northwestern Valory
22 Narens 576A.F.
I aged slowly, and for that I can be grateful, for it meant that Father did not notice as I finally blossomed into womanhood. I have no doubts that, had he thought of it, he would have sold me without a second's hesitation, to alleviate the growing debt of the farm- but he did not, for I still appeared much younger that I actually was. But for all my youthful appearance, I was no longer a child.
Vitric taught me that.
He continued to follow me whenever I cleaned his mother's house, his perpetual presence both irritating and confusing me. I met his questions and curiosity with stony silence, listened to his outlandish stories with reluctant interest. He gave me gifts of flowers, which I cast aside with strange regret.
I knew nothing of friendship, much less courtship, and so did not understand his fascination with me.
The summer I turned seventeen, his interest seemed to increase. He followed me constantly whenever I came to the village, though his mother and I both glared at him in disapproval. He bought me gifts of candies from the general goods store, gave me tiny fireworks to take home to my brothers and sisters. The nervousness he created in me grew, but, though I tried to avoid him, he always found me.
Since Renic's death, I had grown accustomed to walking the distance between the village and our farm, and found it peaceful and pleasant. The late summer days were warm, the sky brilliant and beautiful, golden shafts of light spearing through the branches of the trees.
I was smiling to myself as I returned home, my pockets heavy with the coin I had made that day. Allis' eldest daughter had married a woodcutter, and had hired me to clean her house after I was done with her mother's. I contemplated what I would spend the money on: a new kettle for our meals or new shingles for our roof, which continued to leak during heavy rain.
"Hello, Kryssa."
My good mood vanished as Vitric appeared beside me. I glared at him, stopping in the middle of the road. "What do you want?"
He smiled, used to my unfriendliness. "It's a beautiful day for a walk, isn't it?"
I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled, waiting.
"I was thinking I might walk you home."
My eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why?"
"Because I want to." He shrugged. "Isn't that enough?"
I shook my head. "Go home, Vitric."
His smile turned strained. "I really would like to walk you home."
"No." I turned on my heel and began walking away, convinced that would be the end of it.
He grabbed my arm and spun me around. The charming smile was gone, replaced by honest frustration. "Why won't you let me be nice to you? What's wrong with us being friends?"
His grip on my arm pressed on a bruise, making it ache, but I refused to let him see the pain it caused me. I simply stared at him, my emotions swirling within me, too fast and confusing to sort out. He was close to me, close enough that I could smell his skin, could see the way his eyes shifted between blue and grey. He had grown tall and broad-shouldered while I had been busy not noticing him, and I found myself itching to touch the sun-kissed hair that curled over his collar.
My chest began to ache, and I realized I wasn't breathing.
Vitric swore, and released my arm. "Fine. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you. I'll leave you alone from now on." He started back toward the village.
A familiar emotion wriggled through the others- guilt. He had only ever tried to be nice to me; it really was unfair that I had treated him this way. "Wait."
He paused, turned back toward me.
"I- I'm sorry." The words were painful, but I made myself say them. "I don't have any friends. I- I don't know what to do."
His smile was lopsided. "Being friends is easy. You just talk, and the other person listens."
He wants to know my secrets. I shoved the thought away. "Talk about what?"
"Anything. Everything. Books you've read, places you've been. What you did today."
He was standing too close to me again, and there was a glint in his eye. He was stealing all of my air. "You really want to talk about the floors I scrubbed in your sister's house? Or the number of weeds I pulled out of your mother's garden?"
He chuckled. "Sure." He gently touched my cheek. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really," I breathed. I was frozen in place, unable to move as his face slowly lowered, and his lips found mine. I did not react; I couldn't. Every intense, devastating feeling I'd ever known cascaded through me, focused to a fine, needle-sharp point.
Kryssa? Brannyn's presence in my mind, concerned. I pushed him back out hastily.
Vitric stopped kissing me, and the separation was a relief, and yet I ached with the sudden loss.
"I'm- I'm sorry," he muttered, his cheeks flaming. "I- I just thought you might, you know, like me. Like I like you. I'm sorry."
I swallowed, forcing myself to breathe as I raised my fingertips to my lips. "I- I, um-"
His shoulders hunched defensively. "I'm sorry." He turned away.
"Vitric." This time it was I who reached out to him, my fingers clutching the sleeve of his shirt, forcing him to look at me. "Can- can you do that again?"
His grin was lightning fast, and he pulled me into his arms, his mouth covering mine. I kissed him back, and twined my fingers at last into his soft hair. He tasted of sunlight and warm honey, and it seemed I had been starved for him my whole life.
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
When we at last broke apart, we were both breathing heavily, our bodies aching in ways neither of us fully understood.
We didn't speak; I don't know what we would have said in that moment anyway. He took my hand in silence, smiling as he laced his fingers with mine. I was still confused, my heart a heavy knot in my chest, my head strangely light. I still did not know if I even liked him.
But I let him walk me home.
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[Author's Note: "Kryssa and Vitric" by Alon J. Rand of Dragonwing Graphics]
