Chapter Eight – Izzy
Chapter Eight – Izzy
Izzy awoke as the cold stillness of morning was replaced with the clamor of a working farm. She looked around to see the mist rising and rolling into the bottom floor. She wrapped her robe around her more tightly, and started down the ladder, seeing Aldric still curled up on the bottom floor. But Remy was nowhere to be found. She continued to walk out to the farmlands, walking out into the mist. She looked to see one of the farmers standing in the field, watching a figure partially obscured in the mist.
“Good morning, Mr. Simpkins!”
The farmer nodded. “Good morning, Isabella.” Izzy smiled, glad that she had avoided mentioning her title. She wouldn’t want the farmer to go into a tizzy trying to make her overly comfortable. “Your companion is just out there. He said that he was warming up for the morning.”
“Thank you.”
In the far field, Izzy saw Remy, still partially obscured by the mists. He seemed to be stretching and moving through a set of exercises with slow but steady consistency. As she got closer, she noticed that he was performing said exercises shirtless. Despite his body being covered in scales, she could still see the highlight of his muscled back as it shifted under his skin, the shiny bronze scales reflective in the weak morning light. His spines arched as he made hard striking motions forwards, taking out invisible enemies.
Then he heard her and turned towards her, looking over his shoulder, his warm amber eyes taking her in. She watched his shoulders settle as he turned to face her fully.
“Isabella.”
“Good morning, Vicomte.”
He nodded, giving her a low bow, highlighting the attractive sweep of his neck, his athletic frame. Gods be good. “Good morning. The carpenter should be by within the hour. I figure we should let Aldric sleep. He has a very busy day of being a chaperone, after all.”
“Ah, yes, indeed. I agree,” she said, looking back to the barn. “Hopefully I didn’t snore.”
“Even if you did, I wouldn’t mind, Remy said. I don’t think I slept enough to snore. While I appreciate the Simpkins family for allowing us to use their barn, I hope never to use it again.” He chuckled, and moved closer to her. With the mist rolling in, and the light off of his scales, he seemed to be glowing in the early morning light.
Izzy felt her stomach flip.
He walked with her back towards the barn, arms crossed. “I told you that despite the nature of Onson’s court, I prefer to be upfront and honest. I think that our time together has been eye-opening. I misjudged you. I assumed that you were that woman who blew up at me in that suite, but I shouldn’t have judged you on your worst day. You are smart, creative, and vulnerable. You are selfless. And I know that I’ve been a terror to you, so you’ll probably think that I am being a bit rushed. But after hearing the process of your courtship, I figure I had better get started.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your courtship rituals. I took very good notes. I worked on that somewhat over the course of the night, while you were in peaceful slumber. I know of your dedication to your craft, to this theater politique. I want to play this game your way. So I will follow the Aurelian rules of courtship. With your chaperones, and your gifts. And I will woo and romance you honestly, and completely. As you deserve.”
“But we barely know each other still,” Izzy countered, shaking her head. “This is all very sweet, but we’ve just been companions. I’d like to think we are growing into friends. Don’t you think romance is a bit hasty?”
“I don’t. I told you that I am decisive. I’m content to take it at your speed, if you wish. Much like the glaciers to the north—they will reach the sea in time. I have all the time in the world, Princess. You want a gift of metal and stone, I will give those to you first. Once we get somewhere with some civilization.” With that, Remy gave her a soft nod before returning to his exercises.
Izzy turned back to the barn, her mind racing. What did he mean, ‘romance her’? What did he mean that he was prepared to wait for her? What in Nyman’s name was happening? She stalked back to the barn, her brain running rampant with a thousand other questions (He was going to woo her? Woo? Honestly!) before nearly running head-first into Aldric, who looked horrified.
“Princess! I am so sorry!”
“Oh, it’s no bother, Aldric. Remy was a perfect gentleman. Farmer Simpkins was with us outside, and I made sure to sequester myself away to sleep. Hopefully this is the last night under such circumstances.”
“Yes, I hope so as well, ma’am,” he said, then hurried back to see the horses.
~*~
The wainwright managed to get them squared away, and was gracious enough to take the time to check the rest of the carriage for any other foreseeable problems before setting them on their way. Remy volunteered to sit with Aldric for the next leg of the journey; Izzy spent the time preparing her notes to give to Remy to round out his education on each of the other branches and their primaries. And settling her thoughts.
Each evening, when they made it to their next stop, Remy would work with Aldric to unpack their things into separate rooms, and then spend dinner with her.
Even with Aldric keeping a more watchful eye, it was hard for Izzy to feel as if her mind had been secured.
Well, no, that wasn’t entirely true. Remy had taken away her worries regarding controlling her impulses. He had not provided any opportunities for it. He seemed to be trying to be the perfect courtier.
He stopped at a small market before settling down at the Deer Creek Inn and obtained her ‘gift of metal,’ a small enchanted inkwell. He sat it in front of her, amused, one evening.
“It doesn’t spill over, even when completely upside-down,” he said, demonstrating it by quickly upending it over his head, before setting it back down in front of her. “You’re always on the move. Your supplies should be well-suited for that purpose.”
It was a suspiciously wonderful present. She had heard of them, but had never stopped long enough to research and commission one.
Then, after sharing an evening of reviewing the matters of court, he informed her that her eyes were the color of the sun dappling through leaves, and Izzy had been so stunned that she missed his next criticism of the Council of Magic and their inability to approve common-law bans of invisibility magic in holy and imperial spaces.
She went to bed that night perplexed, and when she sat down to write her letters, she was fully intent on sending one to her sister to ask for advice. She only got as far as ‘Dear Patricia,’ before she’d run out of thoughts. She was always running out of thoughts around Remy.
It was four days later when he came back from sending letters in town with a ‘gift of stone.’ He set a medium-sized box in front of her, and she unwrapped it.
He was pleased with himself, his tail flicking lazily behind him like her house cat did after a fine meal, when she took out the small ocarina made out of rose quartz. It was polished to a high shine, with veins of gold.
“This is beautiful,” she said, voice hushed as her fingers ran over the cool stone.
“I thought more about your concepts of courtship and Twining. About what the purpose of a gift of stone was. I assume typically courtiers would provide precious gems, like rubies or diamonds. I think that is a tad impersonal. You told me you enjoyed singing. I wanted to give you a musical instrument. It’s, ah, enchanted as well. Once you play a melody, you just have to blow once and it’ll repeat it again, until you press this button here…” Remy leaned over, carefully showing her how it worked.
At each tavern or inn they went to, he was sure to instruct the host or hostess to provide them both with a platter of fresh pastries in the morning, determined to see the various differences in each town and village as they went.
And, as always, he kept her at arms’ length.
Izzy was honestly a bit frustrated, in some ways. She was a woman with needs, after all, and since her demand for a chaperone, he had been careful not to touch her, or to be too close. And she missed it. She hadn’t been aware of how much she would until she’d been deprived of all contact at all. He was being so sweet. What if she didn’t want sweetness?
Her frustrations were felt the most in Belliot. They had rooms in an adorable inn right off the river, with each of them having a small balcony overlooking the creek. After their dinner, she sat on her balcony to enjoy the spring breeze and bask in the last light of the day. Remy had much the same idea, and had taken out a small pad of paper, using charcoal to sketch out the countryside.
“I didn’t know that you drew,” Izzy said, leaning over to look at him.
“You didn’t ask,” he murmured, his low rumble amused. “I didn’t realize we were such neighbors. Are you alright with me being out here?”
“Yes, yes. I hardly think either of us is going to climb over the railing.”
Remy paused, turning to look at her. In the warm golden light, his eyes looked molten. Izzy felt unseasonably warm at his glance and shifted slightly, feeling the first flicker of dark desire between her thighs.
He set down his sketchpad and shifted so he could look at her straight on. “We won’t be long now for Vinitore, right?”
“Right. Just one more stop in Castiglione and then we’ll be there after that.”
“Yes. I have to say, despite some of my misgivings, I am excited; you have painted such an exacting picture of your home. If it’s even ten percent as glorious, then I’m in for a treat.”
“It’s a thousand percent better than what I have described, perhaps more,” she replied. “You will see. I can’t wait to show you everything. The roaring waves off the cliffs, the tranquility of our gardens. It’s everything. It’s home. I wish I was able to stay there more often, but duty calls.”
Remy arched an eyebrow at that. “You don’t stay in Vinitore? You talk about it all the time.”
“I normally reside in Yaventown. Of course I spend the spring and fall in the castle of Vetro Di Mare as much as I can, but I frequently have trouble making it all the way back home after a full week of meetings. More often than not I’m in my suites near the imperial palace.”
Remy looked at her for a moment, and then he shook his head. “Princess. I would never dare to tell you how to live your life. I know you have your own ways. But if I were in your shoes, I would be spending more time resting, to prepare for your court sessions.”
Izzy looked out into the river. “Well, you are telling me how to live my life a little bit,” she said. “But I will take it into consideration.”
Remy stood, moving to the edge of his balcony, leaning against the railing. Her focus narrowed. If the balconies didn’t separate them, would he have moved closer? Sat close enough to just barely be within range of her? How she longed to sit companionably close to him, to perhaps let her hand rest against his forearm and feel the corded muscle beneath.
“Well,” he purred. “I can only tell you what I believe. I think that you should get to enjoy yourself. With your white wines, the heady sweetness of grapes. I think you should be able to read in the sunlight, wearing just enough to keep decent. That is how I would prepare for a court session, in this blissful utopia you call Vinitore.”
Her lips parted, feeling suddenly thirsty as his eyes continued to wander her form.
He stood back to his full height. “Sometimes, before the doldrums of court, I need to do something physical, to take my mind off the sessions to come. A stress reliever. Hopefully you do the same.”
“Perhaps I will take your advice into consideration, Vicomte,” she said shyly.
She had chatted with him for the next few hours, until the sun had well and truly set and both moons had risen, bringing the insects with them. She bid him good night and headed inside, feeling refreshed and pent up all at the same time.
She undid the pins in her hair, and continued to the bedroom, bathing and tucking herself into bed. She tried to get rest, but all she could think about, still, was Remy.
Remy’s claws as he carefully drew the landscape below; the warmth of his voice, even when he lightly teased her; the strength in his shoulders and arms; his strong jawline, sharp and austere in his own way. Altogether, he was remarkable. And he had decided, for the both of them, that it would be better if he didn’t touch her, get near her. On the one hand, she supposed she had asked for it, but on the other…
She shifted, tossing and turning as she tried and failed multiple times to get settled. Instead, her thoughts drifted. She dreamed of him, of his claws on her, cradling her to his chest, or going further, between her legs, between her thighs. This was untoward, she knew it was. But still. The rush of heat stirred within her as she let her hands wander where her mind imagined. Would he spread her open? Let his claws graze against her thighs? Would he bend down between her legs, carefully putting each of them over his shoulders, and use his tongue to do more than talk?
She let her hands slip down between her legs, spreading her lips apart and gently slipping her fingers into her slit, taking a deep breath as she used her other hand to gently brush against her clit, eliciting a slight sigh of pleasure as she began her ministrations. She hadn’t known that she had been this frustrated until she’d started to move, but soon enough she had her legs bent to provide her with a better position, moving deeper. She kept pumping her fingers, imagining the rumble of his voice humming through her. And then her mind started to explore further, to what would lie between his legs. What would he even look like down there?
That was something that had been on her mind for quite some time. She wasn’t sure. Would it be similar to her expectations? What she was familiar with? Or would he surprise her in this way as well?
She felt her breath hitch as she started to sweat, leaning in and working herself harder, faster. She imagined him crooning in her ear, teasing, throaty, before he took her and pinned her to the bed. There was nothing gentlemanly about the way he took her in her mind, rough, hard, and fast to meet her demanding desire.
Isabella moaned, his name slipping from her lips, as her thumb circled her clit and the pleasure hit her hard. It rendered her useless and she splayed out onto the bed, panting until she slowly relaxed and came back to herself.
She didn’t move as she slowly started to drift off, vaguely wondering if Remy would scent her and know. He’d give her that little smirk, the one that showed his sharp, front teeth, and be pleased at how hungry and wanting she was for him.
That would be quite all right, she decided, before sleep claimed her.