Bolin
Two hours passed. I feared Patrick may have not received permission to stop by.
In my agitation, and the need to hide it, I told Stella to take a walk and give herself a brief break from her endeavors.
After she left, I slumped into my chair and rubbed my eyes. I needed Patrick. He excelled at writing all the notes and catching all the little nuances as I extracted information with finesse. I missed him in my bed at night. Darkness allowed me to relax the stiff social properness I’d been raised in. I could be his husband, his lover, with no awkward eyes interrupting.
Taps echoed in the hallway, and I nearly knocked over my notes in my haste to open the door. The escort jerked in surprise. Patrick grinned behind him.
“I’ll wait out here and return you to your home after your visit,” the man said, taking a guard position next to the doorframe.
“Thank you,” Patrick said as he limped past him and me.
I closed the door and turned to face him.
His hands cupped my cheeks, and he pressed his lips onto mine, sending me into ecstasy. I struggled to stay upright, resisting the urge to lean against the door. If the escort suspected … I’d perish from embarrassment.
Patrick released me, caressing my clean-shaven jaw. “You look good.”
I encircled his broad shoulders and hugged him with all my might. “How are you at the house alone, my treasure?” I asked.
He waited until I let go of him to answer. “I’m good. The leg is behaving well, thanks to the pleasant weather.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. When his hip hurt, walking became next to impossible. He needed help on those days.
As long as he was alright, I’d continue here.
We sat and talked of my work with Stella, the interfering prince, the king’s unkindness, and more. We held hands, stroking our thumbs over each other’s knuckles.
How I wished he was allowed to spend the night. I needed him.
Stella
Prince Fernando pushed a hanging vine to the side and stepped closer, I assumed to hear me better.
“You are learning fast,” he said in a low voice.
I understood him. My heart soared as excitement rushed through my veins. I spoke only the most basic sentences and had a toddler’s vocabulary, but I comprehended his words. In this moment, the world opened its arms, and I wasn’t alone anymore.
“I talk … uh, Little.”
He smiled. “Gibberish thing, you gibberish, you’ll speak gibberish like me.”
I pursed my lips as disappointment ripped apart my euphoria. I couldn’t decode what he meant, even though I knew half the vocabulary.
He tilted his head and his deep green eyes sharpened, as though he knew I wouldn’t be able to respond. He sighed.
The invisible door of communication slammed shut, blocking me once again. I gripped the sides of my dress, wishing Bolin was here to translate and teach me the rest of the words.
The prince extended his hand.
I obeyed, placing my palm on his. Bolin informed me that royal men kissed noblewoman’s hands as a sign of respect. Except I was not highborn.
He caressed the top of my hand with his warm fingers. “I try … with you,” he muttered in horribly pronounced Celestia.
My jaw fell. Did he say that? “You’re learning my language?”
He nodded and released my hand without a kiss. “It’s hard,” he said in Astralini, a phrase Bolin repeated followed by, but we don’t give up.
I shook my head. “Astralini … hard,” I corrected.
A crooked smile lit up his face, revealing the young man beneath the usual tense posture and stern expression.
He held out his elbow and I wrapped my fingers around the crook, just like when Bolin escorted me. Prince Fernando pulled me closer to the vines and lifted a small stem.
He pointed to the leaves, a tiny flower, then to the woody stalk, saying one or two words with each gesture. He repeated himself and looked at me expectantly.
Oh! He was teaching me the words!
I held a tender leaf between my fingers and mimicked the word he uttered.
“Leaf,” I said in Celestia.
He said it after me as well.
Prince Fernando led me through the garden and we taught each other the pronunciations of at least thirty plants and nature items.
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