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"When you find your path, you must not be afraid. You need to have sufficient courage to make mistakes."
The OPTIMIST AND The REALIST
Avyanna had her dinner alone.
Alistair hadn't come home yet that night; and Emma was feeling under the weather, her damaged bones being a constant source of pain, especially on cold nights. She asked that Avyanna please forgive her absence at the dinner table, but in such pain she could not will herself to move unless there was an emergency.
Avyanna had spent her day at the circus with some of the children who took her lesson each day, and it had been a full day of sugar and excitement, smoke and magic crackling in the air.
Entering the circus grounds it had felt like falling into a maelstrom devoid of reality. From the sounds and colors and smells it was all exquisite, and something so wondrous to behold.
Avyanna had kept the children close, and all the while she was shadowed by the old coachman, Jon, who also seemed enthralled by their fantastical surroundings.
For the most part he had kept to himself, and it was easy to forget he was there while she went about her day.
Avyanna sat at the dining table now and she did not mind so much eating alone; she didn't expect her new family to change their routine for her just so they could all eat together. The silence allowed her to replay her day over in her mind and to map out what she would be doing the following day.
She often lost herself in deep thought and she would become curious if anyone noticed that she had folded into herself for hours on end.
She thought of Alistair, and she was thrilled that she had remembered to buy lemon oil for his injuries at a stand in the circus.
Avyanna had barely finished eating when a servant was there to pick up her plate, startling her, and hurrying away before Avyanna could even say thank you.
When the young woman reappeared, Avyanna asked, "Does Alistair usually have dinner at home?"
The young woman was stiff and formal, "No, miss, Master Alistair does not. Cook will fix him something only if he asks."
"Then where does he normally eat?"
"He hardly ever eats here. They feed them at the barracks."
Avyanna nodded, "Thank you."
The young woman made a sound and disappeared again.
Avyanna sat for a while and finally she stood up to exit the stunning dining room, she walked through the house slowly finding her way back to hers and Alistair's room, the candles dancing and flickering in her wake.
The silence in the mansion prevailed, not a sound to be heard except for the occasional howl of the cold wind outside, and she appreciated the peace.
She had thought that it all seemed austere before, yet the quiet around her did not seem like an empty coldness, but rather like an elegant resting stillness.
Avyanna took a scalding hot bath, washing the day and the circus off her skin and out of her hair, pulling her long dark hair back into a braid that fell down her back when she was finished.
She didn't idle at the bookshelf this time; she pulled the Philosophy book that she had been skimming through from the night before and sat at the table to read.
In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves.
A few hours had passed before the bedroom door finally opened and she looked up a little dazed, as if realizing where she was and that it was late.
Avyanna didn't stand up. She didn't close the book but kept her finger between the leaves to mark her page.
Alistair had showered and changed in his separate private room, his white-blonde hair was damp, swept back carelessly.
His black shirt was open, and she saw that his injuries certainly looked better than before.
"Can I tear you away from your book?" He asked, and whatever he was thinking was not clearly revealed on his face nor in his pale grey eyes.
"Yes, of course." Avyanna didn't close her book, but she just slid it away with the tips of her fingers. She hesitated. "Are you healing?"
Alistair's mouth quirked, "I think so. Come see for yourself."
Avyanna went up to him and she tugged on her courage from deep within, as his wife, and she leaned up with her heart beating wildly, and she kissed his cheek, "Hello?" His skin was hot, and he smelled new, and wondrous like rosewood and sage.
Alistair's eyes burned bright, "Hello, Avyanna." He said quietly. His eyes were like liquid silver as they gazed down at her.
Her face flamed deep pink as she pushed his shirt aside to see his injuries. His body was a beautiful flow of skin over muscle and bone. She noticed that he was healing quickly, and the injuries would turn to scars soon. "I have lemon oil and arnica tonight." Said Avyanna.
"Arnica I definitely know. But later." Alistair said, "I want to show you the house."
She looked down at her see-through white nightgown concerned that it revealed too much of her body underneath, but Alistair said, "It's ok, it'll just be me and you. Are you cold?"
"No."
"Come then."
And she was happily surprised when he reached for her hand and she took his own, their fingers laced together.
They headed out of the bedroom and down the dim hallway.
As they walked down the hall, he explained that the wing they had just come from – the East wing – of the manor was mostly his. No one came up here, except to clean and if they were needed.
His brother, Will, had the North wing of the house but he was barely ever home.
His aunt Emma stayed downstairs because it was hard for her to make it up the stairs.
Alistair led them through the house and Avyanna walked in silent awe at the size and opulence of the Nobel manor. He showed her many more bedrooms and smaller intimate living rooms. She witnessed and felt the grand beauty of someone else's lifework, their history and achievements and was utterly amazed by it.
It was all truly beautiful.
Alistair's tone was open as he tried to make her feel comfortable while giving her a detailed tour of her new home. But he also spoke of each thing and each room as if he himself were also a witness to greatness and had allowed himself to accept it and appreciate it.
He held her hand tightly, her hand lost his strong one.
She watched him as he moved; his strong profile, his walk was slow, lazy, belying the expert control and tension of his body.
Alistair turned his head slightly, as though feeling her eyes on him, "How was your excursion to Gilder?"
The floor was cold beneath her feet, "It's not an excursion, it's work."
"And how was it today? Work?" There was a hint of laughter in his voice as if he already knew how her day had unfolded.
She hesitated, "Well – not today. The children wanted to see the circus so that's where I spent my day."
"The circus." He repeated.
"It was a wasted day, regarding their lessons, but not entirely wasted because they were happy."
"I suppose that's important." He looked at her, "Is that what you mean to say? As long as they were happy then it was a day well spent."
"Well, yes. It is important."
He made a sound like a laugh. "Why?"
"You shouldn't laugh," She chided. "There's so much potential for those children. Outside of their current situation there's so much more."
"But is there really? And how do you expect to fix that? Unless they leave Gilder they eventually get drawn into a life of corruption."
Her shoulder brushed his arm as they walked, "I refuse to believe it's final or that bleak."
His voice became a little serious, "And your class, when you arrived in Gilder, was it completely empty?"
"Not entirely, there was one little boy waiting for me in the class."
Alistair smiled slightly, "Then it's good to be an optimist."
"And I take it you're a pessimist?"
He laughed quietly, "Maybe I'm a realist."
"A pretty word for pessimist."
Avyanna went quiet and Alistair glanced at her, "What is it?"
She squeezed his hand unconsciously, "I know he means well, Jon, that is, following your orders, but I don't need a chaperone."
"It was part of the compromise. Didn't I mention it?"
"No, actually, you didn't."
"I'm mentioning it now." His voice was even.
"But I –"
"Did you see Aunt Emma tonight?" Alistair interrupted her, "She's charming, until she's not, which usually means she's in pain. Try not to take it personally. Did she join you for dinner?"
They had walked into a large sitting room on the ground floor, a small fire was alive in the hearth, and Alistair stopped.
He had shown her as much as he thought she needed to know and see, and he redirected their steps back to their bedroom.
"No," Said Avyanna, "She wasn't feeling well."
"So –" His hand jerked holding hers and he furrowed his brow, "You ate alone?"
Avyanna glanced at him, curious at his tone and expression, "It's alright. I really didn't mind."
He frowned, "Still, I'm sorry. I'll try to be home in time, so you're not alone."
She didn't try to dissuade him, because in truth she loved the idea of spending more time with him, of getting to know more of him.
And Alistair kept his word.
The following evening, he was present, and they had dinner together, just the two of them, and it was strangely terrifyingly intimate being alone in the family dining room.
Alistair looked around the room and shook his head, "I haven't eaten in here in so long."
But he barely ate. He drank a lot. He asked Avyanna many, many questions about herself, as if he were making more mental notes, but he gave nothing of himself away.
When she asked him any questions his responses were vague.
Each night after that Alistair was there for dinner like he had promised; sometimes he looked tired and gaunt and a little irritable, but he was always present and attentive with her, listening and coaxing more and more out of her. Absorbing all of her with his intense gaze so that sometimes she could hardly breathe.
Each night she administered her herbs and oils on his healing wounds after their dinners, and there was a terrifying intimacy in that too.
"No spells." He said tonight as she run her fingers gently over his skin with the balm. He remembered the reaction to her magic each time she had applied it on him to heal.
And each time he felt his resolve slip in response into something primal and instinctive. Something he needed to tame for now, until she could bear it.
They stood in the middle of their room, her in her night dress and he shirtless.
Avyanna glanced at him with a small smile, "I wasn't going to. The reaction I have to your magic each time is interesting."
The corner of his mouth twitched faintly. "Oh? How so?"
Alistair noticed a blush creep across her cheeks, "Like... an intense and fiery hello. It is embarrassingly familiar." She laughed lightly.
She had articulated exactly what he felt too, but he remained quiet.
When Avyanna run her thumb again gently over his quick fading scars, Alistair caught her wrist a little impatiently, "Your witchcraft has worked, Avyanna, all this is no longer necessary. I'm really grateful. Thank you."
She was surprised for a moment and then she straightened her shoulders, "This was hardly fixing you. And you're welcome." She held his gaze, unable to look away.
He smiled wryly, "You look like you have something more to say."
Avyanna let a moment pass then she said, "I wanted to say... the night that I arrived, when you came in and you said hello, I didn't mean to be rude. To pull away. You caught me by surprise when you leaned in, that's all."
Alistair furrowed his brow, remembering, then he said, "I remember I told you not to apologize. Forget about that."
"But I can't." She explained, "You'll find that I over think and worry about everything."
"You shouldn't."
"Did you think I was rude?"
"No, of course not," He assured her, "Honestly, I just wondered if you were afraid of me. I would hate to think that you are."
"No, I'm not afraid of you." She said but his expression was unreadable, "I'm not. I'm afraid of this, of making mistakes."
Alistair's gaze was steady. It was an honest answer and he appreciated it. He understood it. "We're both going to make mistakes, Avyanna, it's how we'll learn about this... about each other."
"I know, but..."
What if she made too many of them?
What if he became tired of her many mistakes?
Of her inexperience...
His eyes held her in place. "You're anticipating that it will go wrong before we've even tried. It's only been a few days. Who's the pessimist now?" When she didn't answer he said with a slight smirk, "So what do you want? That first moment again?"
Avyanna shrugged, her limpid blue eyes wide as she looked at him, and Alistair laughed quietly, "Alright. What did I say that night? That I wanted to welcome you myself."
His eyes on her were burning.
She remained quiet.
Alistair raised his eyebrow. He stared at her for a moment in quiet contemplation, and then he took a step closer and leaned forward, his pupils dark, his silver eyes like thunder.
Avyanna could feel the heat from his body as one of his hands came to her neck. She caught the sweet scent of his skin, the rosewood, and sage, he was like a furnace, a heat radiating off him that she could melt in.
She did not move away; she did not repeat her gaffe from the first night, and when his lips met hers, she felt her heart quicken. Her husband. She parted her lips in response, and she knew this is how it was supposed to have been the first night, gentle and slow, hello and promises and it was beautiful and everything that she wanted.
She savoured it all, the feel of his lips on hers, the gentle slide of his tongue against hers. His hand on her neck was gentle but firm, his other hand come to her waist, the thin fabric of her nightdress pressing into her skin where his fingers held her.
She felt an intense sensation course through her, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest.
Then Alistair drew his mouth from hers, his thumb grazed her shoulder blade gently, absentmindedly, as he took his hand away.
He didn't move back, "We fixed it." His voice was husky, "Now you can forget about it."
As if she could forget about that. She would store this to memory, and a thousand kisses would not let her forget a moment they had lost yet thankfully gained.
"OK?" Alistair's eyes swept over her face.
"Yes."
"All this happens at the pace you want. When you're ready." He offered, his gaze was unrevealing, and Avyanna wished she could have read his mind in that instance. His eyes sparked with sudden laughter, "I'm patient, I promise."
He had left it to her.
She would make so many mistakes before she got it right.
She worried too much.
She was an over thinker.
Avyanna reached out tentatively to catch his wrist before he moved away, "But – what do you want?" She could touch him. She was allowed to touch him. She had touched his body, his scars, for the last few nights. She had just kissed him.
Alistair searched her face, his brow furrowed because the question was ridiculous; and she should have known the answer. "We're married. I have what I want now." He replied.
She watched him move to the bed, the feel of his lips still on hers.
That night Avyanna lay with her back to him again, but she lay closer to him, closing the space between them. Touching, but barely touching, she could feel the hard length of his body, the heat coming off his skin was incredible.
He didn't move.
She thought she felt him remain tense for a while before he relaxed.
Avyanna closed her eyes and she fell asleep.
In the morning when she opened her eyes again the heavy curtains were still closed, and the bedroom was still dark. There was no maid darting around the room, but above all, Alistair was still lying next to her, still fast asleep.