Chapter 23 #3
Ashe sat across the table from them, sullen and silent as she watched the interaction, her face arranged into something only just more amicable than a scowl.
Ainsworth did not know what to say. He wished desperately for them to slip away in private so he had the space to try and articulate his feelings, but with Enach sitting at the table, keeping an eye on the time and clearly wishing to get away…
Ashe rose abruptly. “Ainsworth, I just recalled the papers I promised you.”
“I— What?”
“My family’s papers, documenting druidic remedies and recipes. You said you were interested in reading more about your heritage, correct?”
Ainsworth blinked. He had said no such thing, and he suspected Ashe did not have any such material—not based on what she had told him about her childhood.
Still, he rose, following his instincts. “Ah. Of course…Can you bring them to me?”
She shook her head. “No, they’re precious old books I wish to keep in my room. Come, take this chance to browse, as you do not know when you will be back.”
He turned to Enach, who seemed to spend a moment deciding whether he wished to stay by the fire and wine, or accompany Ainsworth to study a subject he deemed uninteresting. “Do not be long; we must retire soon!” Enach said eventually.
“I wouldn’t let him anywhere near my room anyway,” Ashe muttered under her breath as she led Ainsworth away.
She had left a few candles flickering in her room, and Ainsworth was alarmed to see that most of the walls were covered in shelves containing various small animal skulls.
“Oh goodness,” he said faintly as Ashe directed him to a tall bookshelf between the two arched windows of her bedroom.
An orderly and rather stiff bed was placed in the middle of the room—and was that…
a small, plush, crocheted cat on the pillow?
“Light some more candles. You’ll find the books somewhere on those shelves,” Ashe said before turning to leave. She caught him staring at the toy. “And don’t touch anything else.”
“Wait. Ashe, what’s going on?”
“Just look for the books, will you?”
She departed and—to his alarm—locked the door behind her.
“Matron Above…” he uttered, but he began to scour the books on the shelf. There was nothing else to do, he supposed, so why not?
An examination of the top shelf revealed a rather impressive collection of manuscripts. His jaw dropped in astonishment. Ashe had never wished to discuss literature with him!
Upon opening one for a quick inspection, he soon found out why.
Red-faced, he put it back. She did not seem like the kind of person to read such filth…!
After a few moments, he heard the door open behind him. “Ashe, there are no such diaries of remedies here—” he began as he turned from the shelf.
Honey stood in front of the door, which closed firmly behind her.
She swayed slightly where she stood, hiccuping lightly. Her tail was rather droopy, the tip brushing along the stone floor as she walked toward him.
“H-how much have you had to drink tonight?” Ainsworth asked, aiming for some lighthearted jesting like they’d usually toss back and forth. He’d gotten his wish, they were alone, and yet the prospect of actually acknowledging what was happening, what he’d leave behind…
She did not reciprocate his jovial tone. “You’re leaving tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
“With him.”
He did not—could not—answer immediately.
“I— Yes, but—”
“After everything you told me?” She perched on the edge of Ashe’s bed and stared at him intently.
Oh. He was used to this. He remembered Lyria’s face, and his heart sank. “You think me a fool, then, don’t you? That I should know better, that I am stupid—”
“No!” she said, shooting to her feet with such purpose, Ainsworth stepped back. His shoulders hit the bookshelves behind him. “I would never think you a fool. You are…you are my…I mean, you’re the scholar, remember? But I am worried about you, Ainsworth. You are safe here. You are…”
A long moment of silence stretched out between them. “You are wanted here,” she said finally, looking down at her feet as she did so.
He did not have it in him to address the magnitude of every one of her words.
Instead, he dared step forward to take her hands in his. They were cold, trembling slightly—and as a spark seemed to shoot through his skin at the contact, he realized his were shaking, too.
“Please do not worry. I have…I need to sort things out. Back home. And I will return, Honey. I promise.” He did not know what, exactly, he meant when he said he would sort everything out back home.
Did he mean beyond sorting out the logistics and direction of the rest of his project? Or something more?
In answer, she stepped toward him and placed her arms around him, burrowing her face into his neck. “Don’t be too long in coming back, then. I’ll…miss your rent,” she said, her voice muffled in the embrace.
Even while dancing they had never been so close, and Ainsworth was overcome by the way he could also feel her heart hammering against his chest as he placed his arms around her.
They stood together, holding each other, for as long as they dared.