Chapter 25 Rychell
Rychell
The mayor, his wife, and their team have strewn the cobblestones here with straw. Halvard is telling the story of the town’s founding fairies. Nate pats an empty spot beside him.
“Here, Ma!” he stage whispers.
Halvard and I trade a grin. My cheeks heat as I imagine those tusks dragging along my inner thigh, so I sit quickly and focus on the flickering bonfire.
Halvard plunges into a ghost story about an orc who lived high in the mountains.
“Once upon a time, there was a young orc lad who lived high in the distant, foggy mountains where ghosts are known to dwell.”
Nate shivers in excitement and grins up at me.
Halvard continues. “The wind spoke to him every night until he stole a crystal from a sacred cave…”
Always a fidgeter, Nate picks at the straw and twirls a piece around his thumb over and over. He listens better when he keeps his hands busy. Another reason why Ivydowns is the school for him. They have the staff and training to teach him.
The ghost story goes on, but I’m too busy watching the way Halvard’s hands move as he talks to hear the details. He frowns as he describes the ghost appearing, and his lip curls over a tusk. I swallow and—
“Hello!” a male voice whispers behind me.
I turn to see Osric, standing there in his usual business clothing. I am torn at the sight of him. I’m happy and I’m disappointed, both.
“May I?” he asks, indicating a space on the ground to my right.
“Of course.”
Halvard doesn’t seem to notice Osric, or at least he gives away nothing and simply goes on with his tale. Nate eyes Osric, his lips a flat line. I give Nate a nod, indicating I’ll introduce him properly once Halvard is finished with his telling.
The bonfire snaps, and Osric jumps back a bit, blinking. He gives me a sheepish grin.
“I’m not used to outdoor activities,” he whispers.
Nate rolls his eyes, brings his knees up, and hugs them to his chest as he stares at Halvard. Nate’s fingers move quickly as he taps a rhythm on his elbows.
I rub Nate’s back and nod at Osric to acknowledge the fact that Osric is out of his comfort zone here.
Halvard is ending the ghost story; his rising, dramatic tone gives it away. “…and though no one ever saw the orc lad of the mountains again, to this day, if you walk the dusky path to his old hut, you’ll hear him whisper a warning. ‘Listen to the wind. Honor the old magic.’”
It was a better choice than the tale of Bourin that Halvard relayed to me during our journey.
Nate leaps up to clap, and the other younglings join in the enthusiastic praise.
Halvard puts a hand on his chest and bows at the waist. “Glad you enjoyed it, lads and lasses. Now, I give up the telling to another. Who has a story to share?”
Cyrus sweeps in and slaps Halvard amicably on the back. “I can take a round, friend!”
“Just keep it youngling-friendly, Cyrus.”
The dragon shifter waves off Halvard’s concern and takes a seat. “This tale will teach you exactly zero things, younglings!” Cyrus begins his telling to a chorus of cheers.
Osric touches my elbow. “Do you think we could talk somewhere?”
“But the Twilight Telling is a big part of our Nocturne celebration.”
“You can’t leave now!” Nate whispers in a hiss.
I study Osric's slightly pained expression. “Let’s wait until Cyrus is through, all right?” I whisper.
“Of course,” Osric says.
When Cyrus wraps up his ridiculous ghost story about a large goat that turned into a dragon, Nate leans over and whispers in my ear.
“At least there weren’t any ruffians in this one.”
“Thank the Blessed Stones.”
Nate hugs me, his foot wiggling all the while. We sit and listen to Batilda, an orc who serves as a mother figure/kindly gossip for the entire town, and then hear a telling from three water sprites.
Mayor Rustian, a goat shifter, raises his arms. “All right. That’s the end of the Twilight Telling.”
We all cheer, Halvard whooping loudly behind us and Cyrus whistling. Osric applauds politely.
“It’s time for the younglings to go on their way!” Rustion says.
“Nate,” I say, leaning down to Nate will hear me over the excited partygoers, “this is Master Osric.”
Nate looks Osric up and down and then gives him a little bow. “Nice to meet you, Master Osric.”
“And you, as well, lad. I hope you have a fine time tonight. What are you dressed as?”
“Rom the gargoyle, of course!”
Osric and I trade a grin.
“Sorry, my eyes aren’t what they used to be in the dark,” Osric says kindly.
Nate hugs Osric quickly, and Osric awkwardly pats his back. I pull Nate in my arms, and some icing I didn’t notice on his ear gets into my hair.
Nate leans back and grimaces. “Sorry, Ma!”
“Don’t worry. I’m fine.”
“Love is messy!” Nate shouts, his sweet eyes shining.
I love him so much that it aches inside me like the feeling is too big to keep inside.
He hugs me again, then runs up to Halvard.
Halvard says something to him that makes him laugh—I’m too far and it’s too crowded with voices to hear—and then Halvard bends to hug Nate.
There’s icing on Halvard now, too. I have to chuckle.
Halvard wipes the icing from his arm and takes a lick, laughing.
Nate bounds off with the others toward Tully, Argos, and Grumlin, the tavern owner.
The three of them volunteered to keep the younglings at the tavern for the rest of Nocturne.
Tully seems to be doling out her usual Mead Mend to negate the alcohol they’ve imbibed over the last hour.
She gives every youngling a bespelled broom and the group flies into the night, their happy laughter ringing through the crisp night air.
I turn to Osric, who has a linen handkerchief out and is rubbing at a spot on his tunic. More icing. Oops.
“Sorry about that.”
“Not a problem.” His words don’t match the tone of his voice, though. It is bothering him.
“Where would you like to talk?” I ask, trying to smooth things over. “How was your journey?”
“How about over there where it’s quieter?” Osric leads me toward a row of benches set under a few of the floating dusk hollows.
I sit beside him and focus on his face while he continues to rub at the spot where the icing was.
Around us, some of the dusk hollows go out, and smoke rises from their floating forms. The musicians start up in the center of the square beside Rom’s tower, where he keeps an eye on the weather for us.
A lute player strums a slow, sultry melody, and the wood pipe sings over the top of the lower notes.
Nocturne dancing is meant to be sexy and serious.
It’s not for me, so I look away from that area.
“My journey was good,” Osric says. “Only one broken wagon wheel. Easily fixed by my steward, who joined me.”
“Oh, is your steward here?”
“No, he is at the Acorn Inn, readying my room.”
He could have given his employee the night off, but perhaps the steward has no desire to attend the festivities. Osric stops attempting to clean the oily icing spot and tucks his handkerchief into his pocket.
“It’s all right,” he says, watching me watch him. “I just like things tidy.”
Nate’s words dance through my mind. Love is messy! My stomach twists, and I chew the inside of my cheek. How is Osric going to deal with a little boy?
“Believe me, loving a youngling is worth the spots on clothing, the occasional disaster, and the inherent drama.”
“You’re considering my offer to marry and work together for him, aren’t you?”
“That’s not the only reason. I’m serious about my business.”
“I know you are. Everyone I met on my way into the square spoke highly of you. But I heard something else. Something I hadn’t already figured out myself.”
“What’s that?”
“This was probably rude of me now that I’ve had time to think it over, but well, the talk around your little town here is that you want Nate to attend Ivydowns.”
“How long have you been here today to find that out?”
“I arrived in the early afternoon, actually.”
“Then why did you come to the party late?”
“Because I was busy sending tuition funds to Ivydowns for Nate.”
“What?” I realize I’m standing. “We haven’t signed a contract. Why would you do that?”
“It was pushy of me. I’m sorry. I can take the money back. But Rychell, will you consider something before you instruct me to do that?”
I am furious. That was a step too far. But I sit again, even though I’m fuming. “Talk.”