Chapter 29
Aric
I’M GRATEFUL FOR THE LONG walk back into the village; it gives me a chance to walk off all the sourdough bread and apple tart I ate.
Poppy walks beside me, bathed in the late-afternoon sun.
Her hand is small and warm in mine, and right now, it feels like everything is perfect, like I would freeze us in this moment if I could, and we could live out our days in a perpetual Faunwood autumn.
But that’s not possible.
Alden’s words have been playing on repeat in my head, and Poppy seems equally thoughtful, if the faraway look in her lavender eyes is any indication. I’m not ready for her to ask me about my thoughts—I need to get them in order first—so I decide to leave her with hers for now too.
By the time we make it back to the Golden Lantern, afternoon is giving way to evening.
A teenage boy tips his cap to us as he walks past, carrying lamp-lighting gear slung over his shoulder.
The lanterns outside the inn already glow with warm orange flames, and they cast flickering light across Poppy’s face as she moves past them.
I pull the door to the inn open and step back for her just as a crisp evening breeze sends her skirt rustling around her thighs.
And I realize with a sudden jolt that we’re about to spend the night together—not in the same bed, of course, but still.
I need to keep it in control.
Inside, Mrs. Bluewren greets us from her spot behind the front desk.
“Did you have a nice time with Aurora?” she asks.
Poppy nods. “We did. Her family is wonderful. And she’s an amazing cook.”
Aurora sent two loaves of sourdough along with Poppy to give to Professor Silvermoon, and I can still smell them from where they’re wrapped in a cloth in Poppy’s satchel. I’m going to have to try really hard not to eat them before we get back to the academy.
Mrs. Bluewren smiles. “Those girls are going to keep Aurora’s hands full as they grow up. Especially that Astra. She’s already got the fixings of a troublemaker.” She shakes her head and laughs. “Now that you’re back, would you like us to bring up water for a bath?”
Poppy glances at me, and I have to immediately look away. Definitely can’t think about her in a bathtub right now. I focus on a painting of a fluffy squirrel hanging on the wall in the sitting room instead.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.
“Um, yes, please. That would be great.”
“I’ll let Sasha know. And if there’s anything else, don’t hesitate to ring.” She gestures behind her, to a wall of little silver bells with room numbers above them.
“Thank you.” Poppy starts up the stairs, and I smile at Mrs. Bluewren as I follow behind her. When we get back to the room, we open the door to find that it’s starting to get dark, and the air has a chill.
“I’ll start a fire,” I tell Poppy, still not looking too closely at her. If I did, I’d probably picture her brown skin covered in soapy bubbles, her hair damp and sticking to her cheeks as she soaks in the tub.
Don’t go there, Vandermere.
I kneel before the dark stone fireplace. Wood has already been stacked in the hearth, and I call on my magic and bring a little flame into my palm, then blow on it, sending the sparks dancing across the dry wood and kindling. It catches quickly, and I sit back with a satisfied smile.
“You’re good at that,” Poppy says from behind me.
I turn to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, shoes off, her gaze trained on me.
She continues, “I’ve never been very good at fire magic. It’s hard to learn.”
I push to my feet and shrug. “I had to get good at it for runeball. It helps when you have practice and games a few times a week. I had no choice but to learn.”
“That makes sense,” Poppy says.
A long beat of silence stretches between us, and it might be the first awkward moment we’ve experienced since leaving the academy.
Is Poppy thinking the same things I am? Maybe she’s nervous about the bath and the single room and the sleeping arrangements.
I’ve really gotta try to keep her comfortable.
There’s a light knock on the door, and I call out, “Come in!”
The woman from before, Sasha, who served us breakfast this morning, comes in carrying two big pails of steamy water. “I’m here to draw you a bath,” she says.
“Do you need help?” I ask. The pails look heavy as she lugs them toward the washroom.
But she just smiles at me over her shoulder. “No, but thank you. It’ll just take me a few minutes.”
True to her word, Sasha makes several trips, filling the tub with steaming water before adding what smells like lavender oil and some sort of salt.
The room fills with the calming scent, and I have to focus very hard on not imagining Poppy sinking into that water.
But it’s getting more difficult with each passing minute.
“All set,” Sasha says cheerfully, drying her hands on her apron. “Just ring if you need anything else.” She slips out, closing the door behind her.
Poppy stands from the bed, not meeting my eyes as she says, “I’ll, um, I’ll be quick. So you can have a turn after.”
“Take your time,” I say, keeping my voice level. “There’s no rush.”
She nods, grabbing something from her bag—a nightgown, I think, though I try not to look too closely—and then disappears into the washroom. The door clicks shut, and a few minutes later, I hear a soft splash of water.
I sit down heavily on the couch, dropping my head back against the cushion and staring at the ceiling.
This is fine. This is totally fine. I’m a grown man. I can handle being in the same room while the woman I’m falling for takes a bath twenty feet away.
Except I can hear the water moving and the occasional soft sigh as she relaxes into the heat.
A distraction. That’s what I need.
I grab one of the books Poppy picked out at the bookstore—something about dream interpretation, even though I’ve never had very vivid dreams—and force myself to read the same paragraph four times without absorbing a single word.
Think about something else. Anything else.
Alden’s offer pushes back into my mind, and I lean into it, grateful for something else to keep my mind busy while Poppy bathes.
An apprenticeship. A chance at a future doing work with my hands, using my magic and working with Alden to create things that would last, that people would treasure. It sounds amazing. But it would mean leaving. Moving to Faunwood after graduation while Poppy still has a year left at the academy.
A whole year apart.
Would she wait for me? Would we even survive the distance? We’re just figuring this out now—asking her to commit to a long-distance relationship when we haven’t even defined what we are yet seems like too much. Maybe I’m being selfish.
But the alternative is turning down what might be one of the best opportunities I’ve ever been offered. Staying in Wysteria without a plan, without direction, just . . . waiting for something to happen in my life—I don’t like the thought of that either.
The washroom door opens, and Poppy emerges in a cloud of lavender-scented steam.
Her hair is damp, hanging loose around her shoulders instead of pulled back in its usual braid.
She’s wearing a simple cream-colored nightgown that falls to her ankles, hiding almost all of her skin, but the sight still makes my chest tight—and threatens to make my trousers tight too.
Fuck.
“All yours,” she says softly, not quite meeting my eyes.
I nod and stand, grabbing my own clean clothes from my travel bag. “Thanks.”
It’s a relief to step into the washroom and close the door, putting a bit of space between us.
The water is still warm when I sink into the tub, and I try not to think about the fact that Poppy was just here, in this same water, naked. I scrub quickly, trying to clear my head.
But my thoughts keep circling back to her.
To the way she laughed at something Soleil said while they sat next to each other during dessert.
To how she looked standing in the garden while Aurora showed her around, the afternoon sun making her hair shine.
To how her hand felt in mine during the walk back.
I think of the craziness and warmth of Aurora’s family, the way the children ran around playing with the chickens, the easy affection between all of them.
Even Faolan’s gruffness couldn’t hide the love in his eyes when he looked at Aurora.
It almost reminded me of my parents when I was young and Ma was still alive.
And for just a moment, watching Poppy help Aurora with the dishes after our meal, I let myself imagine—
No. I shut that thought down immediately, dunking my head under the water and exhaling a stream of bubbles.
Too fast. Way too fast. We’ve been whatever we are for barely any time at all, and I’m already picturing . . . what? A little cottage with her? Kids? A life like Aurora’s?
The thought should terrify me. And it does, a little. But it also feels strangely right in a way that makes my heart beat just a bit faster.
By the time I’ve dried off and dressed in clean sleeping clothes—loose pants and a soft tunic—the fire has warmed the room to a comfortable temperature. Poppy is already in bed when I step out of the washroom, the dream book propped open in her lap, her glasses reflecting the dancing firelight.
“There are extra blankets in the wardrobe,” she says quietly. “For the couch.”
“Thanks.” I grab two thick quilts and a pillow, then set about making the couch as comfortable as possible. Though large, it’s not quite long enough for me, so I’m going to have to curl up a bit or let my feet hang off the end. But I’ve slept in way worse places.
“Aric?” Poppy’s voice is small in the darkening room, the sun having slipped beneath the horizon.
“Yeah?” I ask while fluffing one of the pillows, my gaze drifting to her.
“Thank you. For coming with me. I know it was kind of sudden, and you probably had other things you could’ve been doing this weekend, but . . .” She glances down and bites her lip.
I abandon my pillow fluffing and move closer to the bed, sitting on the edge of it, being careful to give Poppy plenty of space. She looks up at me, her lavender eyes soft and uncertain in the dim light.
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” I say honestly. “I mean it.” I recall her falling asleep on my shoulder, the shopping we did in town, the way she held my hand after I was hit with all those memories in the apothecary. “This has been really great. I’m glad you invited me.”
A smile tugs at her lips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I reach out slowly, and when she doesn’t pull away, I tuck a damp strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering against her skin as pink rushes into her cheeks. “Get some sleep, Brains. We’ve got the ride back tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
I force myself to stand and walk back to the couch before I do something stupid, like ask if I can just stay in the bed with her.
I settle onto the couch, pulling the blankets over myself and trying to find a comfortable position. The room is quiet except for the occasional pop from the fire and the soft rustle of Poppy shifting in the bed.
“Good night, Aric,” she says into the darkness.
“Good night, Poppy.”
I close my eyes and try to sleep, but I’m hyperaware of every sound: The way her breathing gradually slows and deepens as she drifts off. The small sigh she makes when she rolls over. The creak of the bed frame shifting beneath her.
I wonder if she’s dreaming. Is her dream magic showing her something important right now, some glimpse of the future?
Am I ever in those dreams?
The thought makes my pulse spike.
I really like this girl. And the idea of being apart from her for a whole year—of not seeing her smile, of not seeing the way the blood rushes into her cheeks when she gets even just a little bit embarrassed . . .
It feels impossible.
But so does turning down Alden’s offer.
I shift on the couch again, trying and failing to get comfortable, and resign myself to a long night of thinking in circles.
Across the room, Poppy’s breathing is soft and even, and the sound of it is comforting. And at least for tonight, we’re here together.
Even though I know I want so much more.