15. A Quiet Morning
15
A Quiet Morning
A sliver of light teased Rosalind’s eyes open a fraction. She glared at the thin break in the heavy curtains of the small, solitary window in their second-story room. It had been a long and restless night, and the last thing she wanted was a reminder that morning had broken.
She couldn’t stop thinking about her interaction with Sylvan at the bottom of the stairs. Once in the room, Rosalind had recounted it to Valentina, who agreed it was a strange encounter indeed. Perhaps he realized she was a border born, and like other dolts before him—Valentina’s phrasing—he subscribed to unfounded rumors and fears. Or perhaps he was simply severely socially inept. Whatever it was, Valentina assured her they’d get to the bottom of it. She also assuaged Rosalind’s concerns that her enchantment had returned. It hadn’t because she had felt his touch.
Hoping to fall back into another hour or two of uneasy sleep, she slipped out of bed and made her way over to the window. Just as she was about to close the curtains, she spotted an impeccably coiffed head of black hair. Jonathan was seated on a wooden bench below, reading from a notebook in his lap.
Rosalind peered over her shoulder to where Valentina slept soundly in bed. She tiptoed past and dressed as quietly as she could. She pulled on her trousers from yesterday and then stuck her hand into the armoire and pulled out a white blouse with an oversized collar adorned with hand-stitched embroidery. Before heading out the door, she grabbed a knitted blanket from the back of a chair and threw it over her shoulders.
She went downstairs to find the tavern nearly empty, save for a man slumped over and snoring in the far corner. He was in for a tough morning.
When she pushed open the heavy tavern door, she was met with a rush of crisp morning air. She drew the blanket tighter around her as she made her way over to Jonathan.
“You’re awake early. Even more so than usual,” Rosalind said softly so as not to surprise him.
Jonathan lifted his head, and Rosalind watched as the deep lines of thought slowly faded from his face. Then, he smiled. “Looks like I’m not the only one. Care to join me?”
Rosalind nodded and sat down beside him. Around them echoed the sounds of shopkeepers setting up for the day.
“Doing a bit of light reading this morning?” she asked, peering down at the notebook in his lap.
“Ah, yes,” he said as he casually flipped through the pages. “Just thought I’d go over my notes again. Though to be quite honest, the words are all a bit of a blur now, having spent the majority of the night poring over them.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I want to make sure I’m as prepared as possible and have an answer to every question and concern, even though all of this could be in vain. Who knows if the Keeper will even give me a chance.”
“I think she will.”
Jonathan considered her for a long moment before leaning back and resting an arm over the back of the bench. “What makes you think so?”
“I will admit, at first, it seemed rather unlikely.” She hesitated. “It’s obvious the Keeper has harbored unfavorable assumptions about you for some time. That can be hard to shake.” She knew that all too well .
“But,” she continued slowly in an attempt to choose her words wisely, “I do think things shifted a little once we got to the tavern. She no longer had an audience and their expectations to uphold. You were honest in your reason for coming here and I thought you were rather compelling. It’s obvious you’ve given the matter great thought. Then Val chimed in and”—she deliberated over the right word to use—“ encouraged her to think twice. Somewhere in the midst of all that, I suspect she glimpsed the real you.”
“The real me?”
“Not to say you aren’t genuine as Chancellor,” she said hastily, “merely more deliberate and reserved. That can make it harder to read you, which I gather is your intention. But when you take leave of such affectations, it’s readily apparent how much care and effort you extend to things that concern you. Perhaps more than you mean to let on. Last night, for instance. When you explained your theory and how it came to be, you spoke with such ardor that I doubt anyone could deny how earnest you are—not even the Keeper.”
Rosalind fell quiet, having said much more than she had initially intended. She picked at a loose thread of the blanket wrapped around her, unable to meet Jonathan’s eye.
After a brief silence, he spoke. “Here I was, intent on spending the morning wallowing in self-pity and despair. Then you come along and give me no choice but to be hopeful. Rather miffed about it, if I’m being honest.”
Rosalind eyed him incredulously. “You are?”
“Yes,” he asserted as he leaned in closer, stretching an arm out toward her. “I spent all night building myself into a frenzy, and within minutes, you’ve quelled my fears. All that work for naught.”
A light touch drew Rosalind’s attention to her shoulder. There, she found Jonathan’s fingers toying with a lock of her hair, and her heart squeezed a little at the sight of it. His hand was so near to her that, if she only leaned her head a little, she might feel the soft caress of his fingers against her cheek.
“Already, I hardly remember what had me so morose in the first place,” he went on, eyes tracking the gentle twirls of her tresses. “You have a way of doing that, you know.”
“Of doing what?” Rosalind breathed, leaning ever so slightly closer.
Jonathan’s gaze met hers. “Making me forget what I was thinking about.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re far more appealing than anything else rattling about in my head.”
Rosalind’s eyes fell to his mouth and traced the curve of his lips. Appealing indeed. If only he knew the singular thought that occupied her mind this very instant…
A clashing sound pierced the air, startling Rosalind and causing her to reel back in her seat. She looked over her shoulder and spotted the back half of a metal sign sticking out of a nearby shop window, shards of glass scattered on the cobblestones below.
She turned back to Jonathan whose arm had returned to its perch on the back of the bench, his brows raised in surprise.
“You bloody idiot!” someone shouted behind her. “How many times did I tell you a couple of strands of twine wouldn’t be enough to hold up the damned sign? More than three times, bet my life on it, I do.”
Rosalind met Jonathan’s gaze and saw a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. It was enough to elicit a laugh from her, one she’d been trying to hold back. Before she knew it, Jonathan was laughing right alongside her.