Chapter 23 #2
He met her gaze, and for the first time that evening his mind cleared as his thoughts turned to the mountain range. “I did. The landscape was more than I took it to be the first time.” Ainsworth smiled, feeling his shoulders loosen and his stomach finally settling.
“I’m glad,” Honey replied softly.
“Ainsworth.”
Ainsworth turned from Honey quickly. “Yes, Enach?”
“We should turn in for an early night, have a bath, get packing.” He leaned forward to peer at Honey. “There are bathing facilities here, correct?”
“You’ll find them on the second floor,” Quiddle replied from the other end of the table.
“So you’re leaving tomorrow, then?” Honey asked, a lightness to her voice that was not quite sincere.
“Oh, Ainsworth, you can’t! Not yet,” Quiddle wailed.
“Well, I—I do not wish to leave you all so suddenly—” Ainsworth began, but Enach cut him off.
“Ainsworth has much work and explaining to do back at the library. But should the need arise for further research here, it is only a jump through the circle.”
Ashe scowled. “Sounded to me like you had plans and the funds to stay here longer, Ainsworth.”
“Well, I did,” he said. “But I now realize I should probably—”
“If Ainsworth wants to leave, he can leave,” Honey said as she stood up. She began stacking the empty bowls in her hands. “In the morning, I can see about your refund for any nights you paid for in advance.”
She walked to the kitchen without looking back. Ainsworth made to rise and follow her, but Enach’s hand was on his shoulder, pressing him down.
Across the table, Bren shook his head.
That night, Ainsworth went through the motions of packing his things.
Enach had spun his logic well—it really was time for Ainsworth to check in with the institution, and with the Transportation Circle in place, he could be back at the inn as soon as next week, should he need to be.
“But still, pack all your things just in case,” Enach said when they were in his room.
“Perhaps when we have finished packing, we could have…a farewell drink downstairs?” Ainsworth asked when he came down from the attic archive, hands full of his quills and parchment.
Enach did not ask to see Ainsworth’s archival construction, nor did he seem interested in reading anything Ainsworth had written thus far.
It definitely wasn’t up to Enach’s standards anyway, Ainsworth reminded himself.
“I should like a chance to say a proper goodbye.”
Enach was folding some of Ainsworth’s clothes, ready to be placed back into his trunk. “We really should get an early night. It will be a long day at the library tomorrow, and you know how much Transportation Circles take it out of you.”
“I do, but…surely one drink won’t hurt?” Ainsworth dared to suggest.
Enach turned to him abruptly. “You’ve certainly changed, haven’t you, among these country folk with their meaningless lives and all the time in the world to drink and eat and do nothing worthwhile. They have rubbed off on you.”
Ainsworth felt his skin prickle, and was about to protest Enach’s remarks…
but hadn’t he expressed that same kind of sentiment to Honey when he first arrived here?
When he could not comprehend why Alvea would leave her success behind?
When he wondered why someone as talented as Ruraidh stayed here, why someone as entrepreneurial as Quiddle was in the kitchens, or someone with an eye for herbs like Spin was stuck all the way out here with nothing concrete to show for their skills and talent bar their room at the back of the inn?
When he believed it tragic that Honey was cursed to live here?
“Well, I—I mean, by that logic, sleeping would not be much more productive, would it?” Ainsworth replied instead.
Enach stood up, slipped his arms around Ainsworth’s waist, and pulled him close.
Enach was only slightly taller—though with his lack of antlers, it was technically Ainsworth that was the taller of the two.
For the first time in a long while, Enach’s decadent fragrance engulfed Ainsworth—the rosewater scent that lingered on his skin, and the sharp hint of citrus oil that he ran through his hair.
All that expense had once impressed Ainsworth, made him long to be close to Enach, to experience such luxury.
Now he only felt nauseous.
“Instead of going downstairs, I was thinking we could perhaps spend some time together, just the two of us?” Enach whispered into Ainsworth’s ear.
Ainsworth felt his heart begin to hammer. Was this what he wanted? No? Yes? He thought of his conversation in the kitchen with Honey, and what he had said to Ashe. All those letters burned to a crisp.
Oh, why did everything have to be so tangled up?
“Ah, well, these rooms, you see, are usually communal…I would not wish to be disrespectful to future guests, as people don’t usually…be together in here, if you know what I mean?”
Enach raised a brow. “I care little for any future patrons, but I do not wish to have such a night in a communal space. I doubt that dunelfen lad does a thorough cleaning job. He seems barely capable enough to hold a broom…”
“Enach…Ruraidh is my friend,” Ainsworth offered in weak defense. Enach merely shrugged and went back to packing.
They eventually went down for a drink, Enach getting a frosty reception from Bren despite the coin he offered for his finest bottle of wine (which was, Enach muttered to Ainsworth later under his breath, “nothing special”).
It was nothing like the usual nights at the inn.
Enach clearly radiated a contempt that suggested he would scorn the kind of singing and dancing they usually indulged in.
Instead, they sat at the table by the hearth, chatting in small groups as Ainsworth made his way around everyone to thank them and say goodbye.
“For the time being, anyway. When I next return, there may be so many guests, there is no room for me!”
At one point, Honey sat next to Ainsworth, placing a light hand on his shoulder.
She did not look at him, but said: “I know how hard you worked on that application, so well done. And I will always be grateful for you making the inn more accessible, for bringing so many people here for us to meet. Even if you have made more work for me in doing so.”
They were stiff, formal words.