A Summer’s Ball
Rinka
The evening brought with it the first ball of summer.
After her dance lessons in the afternoon (which were unfortunately given to her and Idris separately), Ms. Murray dressed Rinka in yet another splendid gown, this one in soft gold with thousands of tiny beads and sequins sewn into a floral design. Rinka marveled at the intricacy of the embroidery. It seemed impossible that something like this could be created so quickly, but then she recalled that Lydiach was a fairy, and their magic was quite formidable.
She tried to remember all of the things she’d learned that would be needed to succeed this evening. Names, dance steps, proper introductions, personal histories, people to seek and out and those to avoid. This evening was an audition, her tryout for the part of a lady of the court. If they rejected her, or worse, if she drew Princess Ceri’s ire, she’d be of no help to their plans to convince the nobility that Herot’s Hollow was worth saving.
She was running the names of the Loegrian duchesses through her mind once more when she saw him at the top of the stairs.
Idris.
He’d looked splendid the night before in his dinner jacket, but in his immaculately tailored tuxedo, he was breathtaking.
It was difficult to imagine that this was the same man Rinka had met on the train in rags. The same man who had said such delightfully naughty things to her just hours earlier. He was the picture of class and grace in white tie, the long coat accentuating his impressive height, the lines of the jacket highlighting his trim, muscular figure. She forgot not only the names she was trying to remember as she looked at him.
She forgot her own name.
He hadn’t seen her yet, and she relished the chance to watch him without his knowledge. It was like being let in on his secret, private world for just a moment, watching him adjust his cufflinks and run a hand through his slicked-back hair.
Then he spotted her. His lips parted and his eyes followed the lines of embroidery on her gown down her body, drinking her in.
It was so open, such a brazen display of his desire and appreciation, that it raised goosebumps on her arms.
“You look ravishing,” he said when he met her at the bottom of the stairs. “Are you sure you want to go to this ball? We could always spend the evening under the stars.”
Gods, it was tempting. But she had a purpose here. The stars would have to wait.
“And waste all of those dance lessons? I, for one, would like to see how you move,” said Rinka. It was true. She was deeply looking forward to watching him move around the dance floor, to the light, teasing touches they would be allowed to share there.
It wouldn’t be enough—not by a long shot—but at this point, she wasn’t sure if she could get enough of him.
“Very well, then,” he said. “You know, I usually hate these things, but I’ll admit I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”
“And why is that?” asked Rinka.
Idris looked at her as if she were being quite obtuse. “Because of you, of course.”
“Because of the opportunity to play our little game?”
Idris shook his head. “No. I mean, yes, of course that. But truthfully, I’m just looking forward to seeing you in the crowd. Watching the way you interact with people—I’m not sure you even notice it, but you light up every room you’re in. Your joy—it’s infectious. I feel guilty for keeping you to myself.”
Rinka didn’t know what to say. “I—thank you.”
They arrived at the queue into the ballroom. There, they were separated, seeing as they were unmarried, and each introduced to the party alone.
“Idris, Prince of Loegria and Wilderise.”
Idris entered the room to quite a few looks from the crowd gathered there, and more than a few looks from the eligible young ladies. Rinka wondered if any of them would be the one he’d marry, and she found herself surprised at the pain the thought gave her.
“Lady Rinka of Paistos.”
Rinka descended the grand staircase to the ballroom, and she felt every eye in the room turn to her. It was truly a magnificent gown to have earned such attention, she thought.
Before she was even off the staircase, an elf gentleman with long, blonde hair had approached her. “Might I ask you for a dance this evening, my lady? I’m Roderas, Duke of Westmark.”
Westmark. Rinka tried to recall what she’d been told about him—was he the one who enjoyed fox hunting? Or perhaps it was falconry.
“It would be my pleasure, your grace,” she said with a curtsy.
“Pencil me in for the second waltz. I’m afraid I’m hopeless with the quadrille.”
It took Rinka mere minutes to fill her card. She left two dances open: the first and the last. Idris hadn’t asked her to, but surely he would once she found him again.
And where had he gone anyway? The room was full to the brim with courtiers, and so many of them wanted to talk to her. This was exactly how she was hoping it would go, but she found that everything was just a bit less fun without him around, as if the room had lost some of its color.
“There you are,” said Idris finally, coming up behind her during a conversation with the Countess of Mossbury and placing his hand on her back. “I hope you’ve saved a dance for me.”
“Two, actually,” said Rinka, and he beamed at her.
“Let’s see which ones.” He took the card from her and steered her away from the countess. “The first waltz—very good. Lots of contact in that one. And the last one—a polka. No, that’s no good. Sorry, Mr. Alfred Herrington. No tango for you this evening.” He scratched off poor Mr. Herrington’s name and replaced it with his own. “Trust me on this.”
“How rude of you,” said Rinka. “What if I happened to like Mr. Herrington?”
She couldn’t really remember exactly who he was at the moment, but the point remained.
“Do you?” he asked.
“I might have if I’d gotten the chance to dance with him,” said Rinka. “Wasn’t that part of the point of our whole exercise? To give me the chance to meet someone?”
She regretted it as soon as she’d said it. Not just because they could have been overheard, but also because she had been happy to forget about that detail. In truth, she hadn’t found any of the gentlemen she’d met so far appealing, but she also had found herself unable to give them much of a fair chance.
He looked for a moment as if she’d slapped him. “Yes, I suppose that is true,” he said when he’d recovered.
“Idris—”
“No, no, you’re quite right. Have your tango with Mr. Herrington, then. See how much I care.”
It stung to hear him speak that way. “I didn’t mean it,” said Rinka. “It was just a jest gone too far.”
“Rinka, I’m not bothered. You are free to dance with whomever you wish.”
He could say it all he liked, but his voice betrayed him.
He was jealous.
“Very well, I will,” said Rinka. He was the one who had suggested the entire arrangement. She didn’t see how he had the right to then complain about it once he realized that it might go exactly as he’d said it would.
The orchestra began to play then, and those who had found a partner made their way to the center of the room while others moved to the sides to give way for the dance.
“Shall we?” said Idris tersely.
“Let’s,” responded Rinka through gritted teeth.
They walked quickly together and took their place in a great circle of couples who were facing each other. On cue, they bowed and curtsied to their partners. Idris’s bow was stiff and formal. Rinka curtsied mockingly low and deep.
If he was going to behave like a petulant child, she would do the same.
It was time then for him to take her in his arms. He took her hand and placed the other on her back and then pulled him to her, tight.
“A little close, don’t you think, your highness?” she muttered as she rested her free arm on his shoulder, leaning back so that her throat was exposed to him.
“I don’t care,” he said. “Let them look.”
There was no humor in him as they began to turn about the room. She could feel his barely restrained rage just beneath the surface as they moved, the tension in his arms, the stiffness of his legs.
It was ridiculous. She’d done absolutely nothing wrong. She was here at the ball to make friends, to identify the courtiers who might be sympathetic to their cause. He’d even said he was looking forward to seeing her do so. And when most of the night was spent dancing, how else was she meant to achieve that?
He released her then to perform the first underarm turn, and once she was back in his arms, he spoke to her in a voice so low it was almost a growl.
“I don’t want to share you,” he said.
On his breath, she thought she caught a whiff of smoke.
Rinka lost her step. She should be angry—she was angry. He had no right to say such a thing. No right at all.
And yet…she could not deny the fire it lit within her.
To feel wanted. To feel his desire for her laid bare.
No, she could not deny how it made her feel, but she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how it had affected her. Not yet.
“I believe it’s customary for an unattached lady to dance with many suitors,” said Rinka. “There would hardly be a point to the dance card if that wasn’t the case.”
“It’s different with us,” he said.
“And why is that? Because you’re the prince?”
“No.” He gripped her hand tight, dipping her back low so that his mouth was near her throat. “Because I can’t have you, and they can.”
Rinka shuddered, her mind filling with images of what it would mean for him to “have” her.
There was truth to what he said, in theory. She could marry one of the men on her dance card. Even if they knew who she really was, knew she was a commoner, it wasn’t unheard of. There was every possibility that someone would fall in love with her and not even care about her lie or her station or the ruse with the prince or any of it.
But marriage on the table or not, she knew they could not have her. Not really.
“No, they can’t,” she admitted, her heart in her throat. He turned her again in time with the music, and when she returned to face him, she was dizzy.
“You already have me,” she whispered, her voice breathless.
He moaned and dipped his head dangerously close to hers, gripping her even tighter to him.
Maybe it wasn’t forever, but for now, she was his.
“Meet me at midnight,” he said, his lips pressed close to her ear. “By the stables.”
She nodded, scarcely daring to breathe for fear that the movement might make her implode.
The ball was still going at midnight, although with all of the dances from the dance card completed, the crowd had thinned somewhat as guests began to take their leave.
Rinka had given the tango to Idris after all, apologizing to Mr. Herrington for double booking and promising him the final polka. She begrudgingly admitted Idris had been right about the dance: it was far too intimate to have been shared with anyone else, at least in her present state of mind.
He had slipped away during the final dance, Rinka spotting him exiting onto the balcony as she pretended to laugh at Mr. Herrington’s jokes. Mr. Herrington was actually quite funny, but Rinka’s mind was elsewhere entirely.
She finally managed to make her own escape after one last conversation with Princess Chloe, who had spotted her dancing with Idris and wanted to share with her what a lovely pair they made. Rinka was flattered, and she felt an ache in knowing that it was all just temporary, that there would be no stay with Idris’s aunt in her town home come autumn.
A refreshingly cool breeze blew on the balcony of the manor. There were others out here, some enjoying quiet conversation, others walking arm in arm in the moonlit gardens, waiting for a moment to steal away from watchful eyes.
The air was heavy with fragrance as Rinka made her way to the stables: the sweet scent of honeysuckle; the bright scent of freshly cut grass; the soft, sensual smell of jasmine; and the varied aromas of a dozen different roses, some fruity and light, others dense and ancient with hints of myrrh. It was an intoxicating bouquet, and when combined with the soothing, pulsing rhythm of the crickets and cicadas, it made Rinka feel as if she’d slipped into a dream.
She was pulled out of it by the sound of someone crying on the other side of a hedge.
Rinka paused, uncertain of what to do. There were no other voices around, no signs of movement. The sobs were quiet, with no obvious signs of distress. It was possible that whoever was crying had come out here to be alone with their sorrow and their thoughts, and that Rinka’s intrusion would not be welcome.
And then there was the fact that Idris was waiting for her, and that she both desperately wanted to meet with him and didn’t want to disappoint him by being late.
Rinka sighed. She couldn’t leave whoever it was alone without checking to see if she could help. It just wasn’t in her nature.
“Sorry, Idris,” she muttered under her breath as she went around the hedge.
There, seated on a low bench on her own, was Princess Ceri.
The princess coughed, choking down a sob and standing upright as Rinka approached.
“I’m fine,” she said. And then: “Oh, it’s you.”
“Your highness,” said Rinka, curtsying to the princess. “Do you need any assistance?”
“No,” said Ceri. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
Rinka didn’t really want to talk to her either. Princess Ceridwen had been nothing but rude to her since their first meeting. She was just about to turn to leave when the princess let out another sob.
Ceri tried her best to conceal it. “Go away,” she said. “I’m fine.”
“You’re very clearly not fine,” said Rinka. “You don’t have to talk to me, but perhaps I can just sit here with you for a little while. So you won’t be on your own.”
The princess did not say anything. She did not move, but she also did not protest when Rinka took a seat on the bench.
Rinka waited in silence, hoping that Idris would forgive her for the delay.
Ceri sobbed once, and then again, and then finally on the third sob, she sat down next to Rinka, holding her head in her hands.
“Nice weather we’re having,” said Rinka.
Ceri laughed and sniffled through her tears. “It’s a perfect night.” She wiped her nose on her handkerchief and turned to Rinka. “That’s another lovely gown you’re wearing.”
Rinka could hear no mockery in her voice. Perhaps this was the princess’s version of small talk.
“Yours is lovely too, your highness.” Ceri’s gown of dark green silk blended with the hedges in the dim light, nearly making her vanish from some angles.
Rinka waited again. In the distance, church bells chimed midnight.
“Is my brother nearby?” asked Ceri.
Not near enough, thought Rinka, but what she said was, “No. I came out for a walk on my own to cool down.”
“I know you’re not who you say you are,” said Ceri.
Rinka blinked, looking straight ahead and trying to keep as straight of a face as she could. “What do you mean?”
Ceri placed her gloved hand on Rinka’s forearm. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m not going to expose you. But I know you’re not from Paistos. And I know you’re not nobility.”
Rinka’s heart pounded in her ears. Idris had warned her about Ceri, about her games and schemes. And Rinka had seen her playful cruelty firsthand. What if this was some kind of trap? Some way of blackmailing her into doing something she didn’t want to do?
Rinka looked at the princess. Her pretty blue eyes were puffy from the tears, and she looked so small sitting there, so young. She may have been a princess, and perhaps the things Idris said about her were true, but Rinka found it hard to feel anything but sympathy for her in that moment.
“You’re right,” she said. “I’m not.”
Ceri nodded as though she appreciated Rinka’s honesty. “Idris has a habit of falling for the wrong person,” she said.
Rinka’s heart skipped a beat on the word “falling.”
The princess continued. “It’s a trait we share, it turns out.”
“Is that why you’re out here?” Rinka ventured to guess.
To her surprise, the princess responded. “Yes,” she said, her voice trembling as she began to cry once more. “He’s engaged.”
Ceri collapsed into tears. Rinka lifted a hand and gently rested it on Ceri’s shoulder, moving slowly, cautiously, as if she was trying to catch a rabbit.
Ceri leaned into Rinka, nearly toppling her over, and sobbed violently on Rinka’s shoulder. “He said he loved me,” she choked out. “He still loves me. But he can’t marry me. He doesn’t want it, any of it. Not the title, not the crown. Not the life in the castle.”
Rinka patted the princess’s back in shock.
“How could he love me?” Ceri continued. “That’s all that I am. That’s all that I have. I’m not like Idris. He’s wanted something else for as long as I’ve known him. But I don’t. This is the life I want. So how could he love me? How could he love me if he could leave me for someone else?”
Rinka could see that Ceri was hoping for a response, some kind of wise answer from someone older that would give her comfort.
“To be honest, your highness, I know little of love. But I think it’s possible to love someone very much and not be right for them. That sometimes love isn’t enough, even though it feels like it should be. Even though it feels like the only thing that matters. And I know that sometimes, the right thing to do is to walk away from someone to let them have a chance of being happy. Maybe he left you because he loved you so much, he didn’t want to make you miserable.”
Ceri cried quietly for a while, but eventually, her tears slowed. “I’m not sure I believe that’s true, not for him at least, but I hope you’re right,” she said. “It’s a pretty thought. You have a kind heart, Lady Rinka. I can see why my brother cares for you.”
Rinka sighed as the princess released her from her embrace.
“May I ask what happened between you? You speak fondly of him, and yet I’ve seen you do nothing but argue since you arrived.”
Ceri wiped her face with her handkerchief. “My brother and I…He’s much older than me, you know? Nearly twelve years older. By the time I was born, our mother was spending most of her time in her homeland. And our father, well, you’ve met our father. But Idris…he was there for me. I idolized him. Even as Father turned against him, even as he did his best to keep us apart. Idris didn’t care. He’d come and interrupt my lessons to take me outside to fly kites from the castle walls. He’d bring me books and dolls and toys from far-off places, writing to traders and merchants to find me something I’d never seen before. He taught me to draw, taught me to skim stones, taught me how to find blackberries in the woods to eat at the end of summer.
“And then one day, he left for university, and he didn’t come back. I thought he’d forgotten me.”
“That must have been hard,” said Rinka kindly, “thinking you’d been abandoned.”
“Father took me under his wing then, and I hated Idris for years. I was cruel to him every chance I got. By the time I’d heard more of what happened between them, he hated me too.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” said Rinka. “I think he just believes that you’re on your father’s side.”
Ceri smirked. “Idris never learned how to manage Father. There’s an art to it, in getting him to believe that your idea is his own. And it requires a certain willingness to play the part he wants you to play. He believes I’m a spoiled brat, and so I am. Idris never wanted to play along. Although, given everything that happened with them, I’m not sure it would have made a difference.”
She took Rinka’s hand and looked at her with a great deal of sincerity. “Lady Rinka, you’ve been kind to me, and so I’m going to tell you something that I think you need to know. Idris is going to be furious with me, and he’s going to accuse me of using this to get back at him or to manipulate you or something, but if I were you, I’d want to know, and I’m pretty sure he hasn’t told you.”
Rinka’s mind raced. What in the world was going on? Was this a part of the princess’s trickery? She had just admitted to playing a part, so Rinka knew she could act if the occasion required it.
Rinka was in over her head.
Ceri continued. “Do you know about the Curse of the Air?”
“Oh,” said Rinka, relaxing once more. “Yes, he did tell me that. He can’t fly.”
“That’s the part everyone knows,” said Ceri. “But it isn’t just the Curse of the Air. It’s the Curse of the Air and the Heir.”
“I don’t understand,” said Rinka, unable to hear the difference.
“The heir,” said Ceri again. “The heir to the throne. Idris will have no heir. It was the second part of the curse, the part my father went to great lengths to conceal.”
“What?” asked Rinka. Her head was spinning. What did it mean to have no heir?
“He’ll never have children,” said Ceri. “I’m sorry. I thought you ought to know.”
Rinka was at a loss. She had no idea how to respond, and she was certain that she wore her lack of certainty on her face.
If this was indeed a manipulation, Ceri must have known that it had worked.
But Ceri, to her credit, did not show a hint of joy or triumph or mockery on her face. Instead, she just looked sad.
“I—thank you, your highness,” said Rinka finally after a long pause. “For telling me.”
“I’m glad that you’re here this summer,” said Ceri. “I hope that doesn’t ruin it for you. And I hope you believe me that I took no joy in telling you. You were going to find out eventually.”
Rinka nodded.
“Would you like to walk with me back to the manor? It sounds as though the ball is winding down now,” said Ceri.
“No, I think I’ll stay here for a little while,” said Rinka. “I need a moment to think.”
“I understand,” said Ceri. “Thank you again, Lady Rinka.”
The princess left Rinka with her thoughts.
The Curse of the Heir.
The first thing Rinka felt was sympathy for Idris. What a terrible, terrible thing to curse a child with, and for something he didn’t even do. Rinka could not imagine losing so much so young, especially not when, as a member of the royal family, he was expected to marry and have children.
Rinka understood then why his father wanted him to abdicate the throne, why he wanted to himself. And she realized what must have come between him and his former fiancée, the part of the story he’d kept from the mermaids.
It was only then that she thought of herself.
If Idris didn’t plan to take the throne, there was no real reason he couldn’t court her. She hadn’t considered it before; she had just assumed that either he didn’t want to court her truly or he wasn’t certain about abdicating, and therefore her commoner status was a detriment.
But perhaps the real reason he chose not to court her had been that he could not have children.
It would have been unkind for him to keep such a thing from her if they were actually courting, that was true.
But they weren’t actually courting. He didn’t owe her this piece of information, especially not when it was so damaging to him and to his family.
So why did it still hurt her to hear it?
He was expecting her now, was probably wondering where she was and why she was so late.
But she couldn’t face him, not yet. She wanted to be sure of what she was going to say before doing so. She was afraid that at this late hour, she’d say something indelicate and damage their relationship permanently.
And so she returned to the manor house alone.
At breakfast the next morning, Rinka could see the exhaustion and disappointment in him. She watched him pick at his food, barely touching it and refusing to meet her eye.
When they finally were able to leave once the king had finished his meal, she approached him.
“I need to speak with you,” she said quietly.
“You didn’t come. I waited for hours. Were you unable to get away?”
“Come, let’s take a turn about the garden,” she said loudly enough for the others to hear.
“It looks like rain today,” said Princess Chloe. “Better bring a brolly, just in case.”
The footman that had originally greeted them brought them a pair of umbrellas. Idris refused his.
“Thank you,” said Rinka to the footman before remembering she wasn’t supposed to thank him.
She shook her head. All of these stupid rules.
The sky was overcast with dark grey clouds on the horizon. A warm breeze burst through, whipping up the skirt of Rinka’s white day dress and nearly taking the closed umbrella from her hands.
“Did you change your mind?” asked Idris. “Was it something I did?”
“No,” said Rinka, leading him to the same spot where she’d found Ceri. It was a secluded area; she wanted to be sure no one would overhear them.
“Idris, I was coming to meet you last night when I found Ceri right here. She was alone and crying. I spoke with her for a while.”
“Ceri? Out here crying alone? What happened to her?”
Rinka considered how much to share with Idris. She felt certain that Ceri had shared her story in confidence, not wanting her brother to know. “Just looking for a bit of womanly advice, I think. She’s fine, or she will be. But Idris.”
She took a deep breath to steady her voice. “She told me about the Curse of the Air and the Heir.”
Idris smiled sardonically and shook his head. “Of course she did. Of course she would.”
“It wasn’t like that,” said Rinka. “At least, I’m fairly sure it wasn’t. She wasn’t trying to hurt you. I think she was just trying to help me. Since we’re courting, at least as far as anyone knows. She felt like I had a right to know.”
“Unbelievable,” said Idris. “I knew she wanted to be queen, but I never thought that she would pull something like this to hurt me. To hurt you. I had no idea how far she would go.”
“Idris,” said Rinka softly, trying to calm him down. He was nearly shouting. “Perhaps I’m na?ve. Perhaps you’re right that she did this to hurt you, to drive us apart. But…it wouldn’t. Not even if we were truly courting, which we’re not. But even if we were, I wouldn’t care.”
Idris froze in place, unspeaking.
Rinka kept going. “The only part that upset me when she told me is that you felt you couldn’t tell me. But even that didn’t upset me for long. We’ve only just met, after all. And you never promised me anything more than a bit of fun for the summer. I understand why you didn’t want me to know.”
Idris sat down beside her, but still he said nothing, so Rinka kept talking. “One day, you’ll find someone you do want to be with. And I hope you’ll tell her early. Because there are some people that will care, but there are many who will not. There are people who won’t care about your crown or your heirs or anything else. There are people that will love you for you. I hope you know that.”
Idris sighed. “My father forbade me to tell my fiancée the truth,” he said after a long silence. “He refused to believe in the curse himself despite seeing what the other half of it had done to me, and he paid off or imprisoned anyone who wouldn’t agree to keep their silence. The rest of the story I told the mermaids was true—I did truly love her, and I did realize that she didn’t care for me at all. When my father refused to let me break the engagement, I told her the truth.”
“And she ended the engagement?”
“Yes,” said Idris. “Although I’m not sure if it was because of the children or because she realized that my future as monarch was in jeopardy. By that point, I didn’t want to find out. He paid her and her family handsomely for their silence. Then at some point, he realized he could pin his hopes for his legacy on Ceri instead.”
“But if you can’t have a child, why do you need to abdicate? Wouldn’t she become queen once you’re gone?”
“I told you I work at the University, the King’s College near Arcas Dyrne. My area of study is curses—well, dark magic more generally, but I specialize in the study of curses and their effects. I believe it’s likely that the wording of the curse makes it so that if I take the throne at all, I will have no successor. Not just a lack of a child heir, but my sister will be prevented from taking the throne for some reason. There are many ways that could play out, none of them nice.”
“Perhaps you should take the throne and abolish the monarchy,” said Rinka, trying to lighten the mood.
“I’ve thought about it,” said Idris seriously. “At first, as an answer if something were to happen unexpectedly to my father, a way to protect Ceri and the rest of the family. It would meet the terms of the curse. And who knows? If I were to abdicate or abolish the monarchy, I may be able to have children after all.”
“And perhaps you could give a voice to the people as well,” said Rinka. Being amongst the nobility had given her a newfound awareness of just how little of a voice the common folk had.
“Are you telling me you doubt the ability of those pompous buffoons you saw preening and prancing around last night to represent the will of the people?” asked Idris with a laugh. “Preposterous.”
He took her hands in his. “Rinka, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wanted to. But it’s been my darkest secret for so long—my own colleagues don’t even know it’s my own curse that I’m researching, or if they do, they think it’s so I can fly once more. I hope it hasn’t put a damper on things.”
“Not at all,” said Rinka. “I hope you find the answer you’re looking for one day, whatever that may be.”
He sighed and reached for her, stroking her cheek. “Was that truly the only reason you didn’t come last night? I was afraid that I’d been too forward, that I’d scared you off by taking things too far too fast. I know we’re having fun, but I don’t want you to feel pressured to do something you don’t want to do. I was angry at myself for putting you in that position. I’m sorry I was cold to you this morning.”
“Idris,” she said. “I wanted to meet you so badly last night that I seriously considered leaving your crying sister on her own to do so. After she told me everything, I decided I needed a moment to think through what I wanted to say. That’s all.”
There was a clap of thunder in the distance, and the first drops of rain began to fall.
“Ominous,” joked Idris.
“Although I don’t mind if we take things slowly,” admitted Rinka. “Not because I don’t want to…well, you know. Not because I don’t want you. But I very much enjoy the teasing. It’s the best part.”
“Rinka, I can promise you this: the teasing will not be the best part.” He stood and pulled her up by her hands. “Come now,” he said. “Before we get soaked.”
The rain began to fall harder as they walked through the hedges back to the manor. Rinka opened the umbrella, but the wind kept blowing it backwards. She finally abandoned it entirely when it got stuck on a branch.
“Ah!” she screamed as the bottom fell out. She was drenched in mere moments, her white dress clinging to her, revealing everything underneath.
“Gods help me, what am I meant to do when you look like that?” asked Idris, and he pulled her behind a hedge out of view of the manor and kissed her.
It was absolutely pouring, and Rinka did not give a damn.
The kiss was a confession. It was a secret itself, shared between them, their eyes closed to it. It was the taste of the rain mixed with the taste of each other. It was the pull of his hand on her skirt, the lift of her leg to wrap around his hip. It was the clinging of fabric, the pressure of their bodies, the white-hot fire that burned within them that kept out the chill.
There was a flash of light through Rinka’s closed eyes and the clap of thunder close by. Too close.
“Godsdammit,” said Idris, pulling away entirely too soon. “I want you to know that I’m stopping this because I can’t live with myself if you get struck by lightning on account of my passions and for no other reason.”
He took her hand once more, and they ran for it.
Rinka laughed unabashedly as they pounded up the steps to the manor, everything that held her back washed away in the rain.