Chapter Nine #2
Please say yes, please say yes.
“Dreadfully so.”
Her lilt on the word ‘dreadful’ delighted me beyond words.
“You are smiling, Mister Thistlewood.”
I am?
“Oh, yeah, it… reminded me of an old joke about umm… elven traditions.”
“Do tell, Mister Thistlewood.”
She’s not going to let this go, is she? “It’s… rather juvenile, really, my brother told me when I was nine.”
Her gaze remained fixed on me. “I am fond of many forms of humor.”
I collapsed onto the workbench, my forehead narrowly missing my plate.
“Fine! I have fun with you. Every week. And every time, you have to leave for dance practice with Halfar Greanderal. So when you used his name and dreadful in the same sentence… uuugh, isn’t a fellow allowed a little schadenfreude? ”
“Perhaps a very small amount.” The lift of her eyebrow, the slight tilt of her head, the way she held herself all said she knew my answer all along, but wanted to hear me say it.
“Thank you.” I pushed myself back to a respectable sitting position and sighed. “And when I thought you canceled due to some… engagement. Which I assumed was something with him… I enjoy our sessions is all.”
“As do I. And if you must know, I was moving today.”
“Moving? As in…”
“Relocating my residence.” She tilted her head. “That is what it is referred to, is it not?”
“It is.”
“My stay at the palace of Count Greanderal had been growing increasingly uncomfortable. It had been arranged by my family prior to my arrival with the intention that I would find my own place shortly after I arrived. Yet the count and his son kept insisting that no suitable places were available.”
“Couldn’t you move into the dormitory?”
“That would have been acceptable to me, however with the start of the semester, the dormitory was full.”
“Ah. Well, I spotted a bottle of sparkling wine in the basket. I suppose congratulations are in order for you.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “And for you, apparently.”
I slumped my face into my hands. “I really wanted to transform myself when I came to this city. A new start. With a lifetime of hints from my brother, I could act like a suave and sophisticated elven gentleman. I could… uugh. But apparently I have a bit of shallowness yet to overcome.”
“A bit?”
“OK, a lot.”
“I like you just the way you are, Mister Thistlewood.”
She does?
“As a slack-jawed provincial?” I tipped my head to look into her eyes.
“More of a slack-jawed provincial trying hilariously hard to act like an elven gentleman.”
I growled. “You’re really having fun with this, aren’t you?”
“The most fun I have had in some time.” She lifted the corner of her lip, flashing a tooth. “Now, I suggest we return to work. I would like to finish with sharp tools for the evening before opening any spirits if you don’t mind.”
“You are a most sensible lady.”
? ? ?
We lost count of clock bells as we worked into the night, exchanging snippets of our lives as we shaved and filed away at our blocks of wood.
“Am I finished?” She held up a board half the length of her forearm with the zigzag box joint cut into it.
“Do you think you’re finished?” I replied, holding up my own.
“The only way to tell is to see if it fits with… is this an actual instructional technique or are you attempting to extract revenge for earlier?”
“Perhaps.”
“Can we get on with it, then? I would like to open the sparkling wine before it ages into a completely new vintage.”
“How about a wager on whether it fits?”
“I am not a betting lady.”
“Afraid of losing?”
“Your flimsy charm is wearing even thinner.”
I extended my palm to her. “Yours is growing stronger.”
She rolled her eyes. “If the pieces fit, you provide the picnic lunch next time.”
“And if they don’t, you owe me a—”
“A what?”
I nearly said kiss. Good thing we hadn’t opened the bottle yet, or that would have slipped out.
“A… dancing lesson.”
She nodded firmly. “We have an accord.”
I extended my piece.
She took it, and slid the joints of her own piece into place, jiggling to test for excess play.
I sighed. “All kidding aside, you did a nice job. Some people might look down on crafts like this as unsophisticated commoners’ work. But you took it seriously and put in the effort to learn.”
Her slow blinks made those green eyes even larger and more expressive. “I had a diligent instructor.”
“And charming?”
She held up a thumb and forefinger. “Perhaps a little.”
“Well, since I’m going to be supplying the next one, we’d better make full use of this picnic.” I removed the bottle and began undoing the wire cage. “I have never uncorked one of these before, so I assume you’ll inform me if I’m making any horrible mistakes?”
“Don’t aim the cork at your eyes.”
“Thanks, I got that. Hey, isn’t this supposed to be chilled?”
“Dragondale Reserve brand. A thread on the cork leads to a sealed potion of ice blast. It is self-chilling.”
“Convenient.”
The cork popped. A blue glow enveloped the bottle, a sheen of frost forming on the deep green glass a few seconds later.
She poured half a glass for each of us.
We clinked our glasses together.
“To dedication to the craft,” I said.
“To a modestly charming instructor.”