I feel myself grimace in my jerk away from him when I take notice of the rustling leaves, giving me pause. I watch in wait as the movement suddenly stops, seemingly hesitant to creep out from the safety of its den. Then, the fur of a white rabbit peeks out from the brush, twitching its nose as it assesses the scenery. Hopping forward, it stands upright with perked ears. I’m relieved as he tears his face away from mine, though I’m perturbed by his slow approach of the demure creature. He treads carefully in his cross over the gravel path and aims for the grass so as to muffle his footsteps. However, he then bends towards the patch of wildflowers, snapping an orange one from its stem. During this, the rabbit seems to take notice of his encroach, but remains oddly unfazed. With his gaze fixed on the animal, he crouches, reaching out to it with his offer of the marigold. To my pleasant bewilderment, the rabbit lowers its ears in familiarity and springs towards him. It barely sniffs out the gift before adoringly munching the flower, stem and all. The soft creature seems to sense there were plenty more past Nikkolas and hops towards them. Lowering his hand, a smile of seeming fondness rests upon his face.
“They come for the marigolds this time of year,” he says, turning to address me. I quickly relax the upward curve of my lips, fearing he may notice.
“I didn’t realize you were expecting company,” I tease, still baffled as to what to make of his behavior.
“Hmmph,” he retorts, finding humor in my jest. “Their nest is located somewhere under this bush,” he says, motioning towards it with a wave of his hand, “I’ve often come here to observe them.”
“You seem quite familiar with them,” I suggest, tilting my head at his humility. “With them eating out of the palm of your hand and such. Why not keep them as pets?” He shakes his head, pouting his lips in disagreement with the notion.
“No,” he affirms wistfully, “I wouldn't wish that on them.” I furrow my brows at him, curious of his hesitance regarding the subject. Seems out of character for the likes of His Grace.
“Why not?” I prod.
“Because,” he sighs, a somber look in his eyes, “keeping them as pets would mean they’d be at risk of becoming a failsafe.” “In the event the season’s harvest is scarce,” he continues, running a hand through his hair, “they would be what’s served in its stead.” He pats his knees in his rise from a crouch, before turning to address the garden. “That’s why this area is so overgrown; much to the bewilderment of the groundskeepers,” he chuckles, “I insist on leaving the greenery untouched.” Gazing upon the unkempt state of affairs within his sanctuary, he continues. “Here at least, I can visit them.” The sad tone in which he recounts such details comes across as sincere, almost as though he was speaking from experience.
“Well that’s… kind of you,” I commend, trying to disguise my suspicion in his otherwise considerate gesture.
“Thank you,” he answers lightly, remaining solemn in his thoughts. “Ah,” he interjects, as though having remembered something, “There was something I wished to speak with you about, Avalor.” His expression becomes much more cheerful in his stride towards me, stirring my curiosity. Approaching the bench, he motions to sit beside the left of me, asking, “May I, Avalor?” I nod my approval and watch carefully for his next words. To my unease, however, he creates an uncomfortably short distance between us as he takes his seat, scooching closer to my lap. “Well, with our engagement ceremony coming up so soon, there were a few things I wanted to discuss with you.” Ah.
“Of course,” I say amicably, considering the unspoken terms of our arrangement, “What did you have in mind?”
“Firstly,” he begins, gliding his hand over my wrist, “We need to choose your engagement ring.” I nearly swat at him in response to his encroach. Leaning his head closer, he raises my left hand, caressing the base of my ring finger with his thumb. “I was thinking…a diamond would best suit you,” he says definitively, holding out my hand before us to visualize the stone.
“Actually,” I interject, awkwardly withdrawing my hand from his grasp, “I rather have matters far more important to discuss with you.” His expression falls flat as his eyes follow my hesitance.
“Certainly,” he agrees, seemingly dumbfounded by my reaction, “What might be bothering you?”
“Well,” I continue, shifting myself away with my palms against the seat of the bench, “As you know, we recently attended last night’s ball.”
“Why, yes, Avalor I was there,” he teases, throwing his leg over his lap. I stare back at him dully, feeling it unnecessary to voice a response that my eyes alone can just as simply convey. He takes notice of my gaze and swiftly changes his tone. “And what of it?”
“I’ll have you know that a lowly lord struck up a rather lovely conversation with me within the window of your absence,” I say, with a crude smile.
“Alright,” he nods, before narrowing his eyes in realization. “Yes,” he affirms, turning to me, “I recall a nobleman conversing with you. He left upon my approach, did he not?”
“Yes, it would appear he left in quite a hurry,” I agree, tilting my head in contempt of his cowardice.
“Avalor,” he says abruptly, gently bringing a hand to my cheek, “you seemed a bit…shaken when I returned with our drinks.” “Tell me, was it something he said that troubled you?” I find his sympathetic gaze unnerving, knowing it cannot be a true pity that those shades of hazel herald.
“Yes,” I say flatly, uncertain if pulling away from his caress would serve me, “He relayed to me the indication that he had seen us in the courtyard. I fear it’s likely he had heard my speech prior.” His hand leaves in his turn away from me, deliberating in his thoughts over my revelation.
“Then…that was the figure I saw,” he affirms, “he must have been the one spying on us.” I strike a glare at him.
“So then you saw him yet neglected to inform me on the matter?” I press, narrowing my eyes, “Did you not consider I might have appreciated a fair warning?” He furrows his brows at me, seemingly baffled by the prospect.
“Avalor, you were in such a state of distress,” he consoles, “I truly didn’t see it fit to make you weary on the matter.” My glare remains firm in my mull over his response. Ah yes, my hysteria–for why ever else would I choose to not marry His Grace? “However,” he says in a more relaxed tone, laying his hand over mine, “I can assure you that you have no reason for concern with that lord.”
“And how might that be?” I prod, unconvinced, “Do you not recognize how his knowing is dangerous in itself?”
“But Avalor,” he continues, playfully tilting his head at me, “it’s just as you said.” “He is nothing more but a lowly lord, whose word against mine,” he pauses, gesturing to himself, “could not ever hope to hold up in our court.”
“And while that may be true, Nikkolas,” I press, having once before considered that same notion, “It would appear the lord’s intentions with me lie in his taunts.” He raises a brow at me, curious about where I'm going with this. Annoyed how seemingly incapable he is to fathom the obvious, I raise my fingertips to my temple, before continuing. “I have high doubts he merely desires to relay his testimony to our court based on grounds of hearsay alone,” I clarify, rolling my eyes, “He wants something.”
“Whatever his intentions may be Avalor,” he teases back, lazily leaving his eyelids half closed, “I have the utmost faith there is sadly little he may do with that information.”
“And how is it exactly that you remain so certain regarding the subject?” I prod, assuming it is rather arrogance than fact that perpetuates his assurance. “I find it hard to believe that a noble of his rank would so much as dare address me without proper incentive.”
“Because, try as he might to mislead our court,” raising a brow in emphasis of his comparison, “even I could not persuade the commonwealth that the moon draws nigh when it is clearly daylight.” Huh? Though the tone in which he considers our circumstance is as though implicit, he has yet to back the assertion with proof more tangible. I passively furrow my brows at him, more dumbstruck than curious.
“You mean to suggest our union goes without question, but…” I pause, shaking my head at the thought, “I have yet to comprehend what you know that I apparently don’t.”
“Avalor, if he were to ever call into question the validity of our marriage, then it would be that very same day we would be wed.” Huh? His answer stirs my unease as the corners of my lips threaten to part. Although I’m sure he meant to alleviate my concerns, he has done quite the opposite. “Yes, though I would prefer the luxury to have both your rings specially crafted,” he continues, wistful of the prospect, “I would salvage what time we would have to purchase two already available.”
“Yes, but the engagement ceremony, the premarital celebrations,” I chime, now committed to embracing every last custom that stalls a wedding, “How do you intend to marry me without breaking tradition?”
“By doing just that,” he replies plainly. “If it’s your wellbeing that is at stake then there I would rather not waste time on such,” he gestures, with a wave of his hand, “fickle pretenses.”
“O-Of course,” I nod egregiously, with a crude smile. “Yes, that makes perfect sense,” I continue, taking his remarks into careful consideration before realizing the intricate affairs of my fate. “So, it would be best–for the sake of a long and happy engagement,” I add, clasping my fidgety hands in disguise of my intentions, “that he were to remain in hush about that night, correct?” He nods, affirming my suspicions. “Alright,” I concede, certain now. I must plan to negotiate with that lord.
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