Page 21 of Aubade Rising
“I know.” His grip loosens as he surveys me, obviously deciding I’m not going to make a run for it. “I’m sorry for shouting at you.” He runs a hand through his soaking hair, pushing it out of his eyes. “There’s so much pressure to keep everyone safe and something about you... I can’t help but let you get under my skin.” He whispers so softly, leaning closer, I question if I heard him right and my eyes widen.
His shoulders hunch protectively against the blinding rain as it freezes, turning to stabbing icy droplets. “I struggle sometimes with my role,” he begins as we start back, putting some distance between us, his hood pulled up against the hail. “It’s not one I ever wanted, but I was appointed with my particular skillset, so when it comes to the… ,” he grimaces.
I wonder whether his pause is a struggle with how to choose the next word, or how much to reveal.
“… the more unsavoury aspects. I can be difficult to be around afterwards. I didn’t mean to let you down about the laboratory.”
It’s not an apology but it’s a tentative explanation. I feel as if I should apologise now. We hardly know each other and I demanded such personal insight into his life. I guess my social skills are rusty after hiding away in Athnavar. “And, I take it, the rebel group coming forward meant there were moreunsavouryaspects than normal?” I try to be casual, to keep him opening up, captivated every time he speaks. My pace slows and he, ever the gentlemen, remains at my side.
“Yes, and it looks like there will be more to come. The attacks mean they believe support for their cause is growing.”
“And what if you don’t want to do the role anymore?”
He rakes a hand through his hair and huffs a sigh of frustration.
“I honestly don’t know, it’s been so long. I don’t know who I’d be without it.”
Perhaps it’s the darkness, or the gloomy weather but I want to reach out and comfort him.
“Have you always wanted to be an academic then?” he asks.
I respect his attempt at changing the subject. I tell him about my childhood and how I always knew I could make it in academia, despite being an Aubade.
Speaking of magic, why on earth is he letting himself get soaked?
When I ask him, I get that mischievous grin again and a bubble of water extends from his hands to cover us both, protecting us from the elements.
“Why on earth didn’t you do that sooner? I’m soaked through!”
“Perhaps I like it when you’re wet through. Makes you seem more real.” He winks, definitely flirting now.
My cheeks flush. “Come to the laboratory tomorrow then.”
“I will.” One last smile before we reach the quay where there’s a ferry waiting to take us back.
Eskar whistles quietly while I work, long legs lazily crossed as he perches on my new workbench. The company this morning has been nice; I’ve had someone to chat to whilst I set up some decoy experiments. As my cover, I chose a couple of the pet projects that some of the Mordros families wanted to sponsor. None of them are anything more than parlour tricks, but they will make passable distractions in the meantime.
It’s been a productive day and Diogel surprises me by knocking on the laboratory door as the sun begins to set.
“Excuse me, Alchemist. I’d better escort you back now if you want to return before dark.” I pause in measurements and survey the lab; none of these preliminary tests are so important that they can’t wait until tomorrow, so I give him a smile and promise we’ll meet him at the ferry shortly.
Eskar leads the way down the steep slate path back towards the ferry, pausing to extend a hand, assisting me as we climb across sections where the rain has washed the stone away, leaving slippery, exposed clay. The whistling has stopped and I catch him frowning a little as we walk.
“Is everything okay?” I wonder if he regrets spending the day at the laboratory. It’s not exactly riveting to an outsider.
“My family own this islet,” he begins. “Only the most prominent Mordros families have them. Dervla has her own too. They’re considered hugely private. So I can’t help but wonder why you needed to set up your laboratory here? Why Dervla called in her favour. The experiments you showed me today seemed safe – nothing exploded. What am I missing?” He turns to me, not quite accusing but not in the mood to be palmed off with a half-hearted excuse.
I struggle to form the words to explain. I cannot risk him coming close to the truth about my research. A film of sweat forms down my back and my cheeks heat.
“Nothing. You’re not missing anything. I wanted privacy, that’s all.” Half lies, half-truth. I urge my heart to slow down, its loud beats assaulting my ears as the wind picks up around us. He examines my face carefully and I stare back, careful not to blink or look away first.
“Then what are you doing in the laboratory that means you come to dinner covered in soot and smelling like sulphur.”
“You’ve been paying attention?” I highly doubt I can distract the King’s Verax from his line of questioning; it’s his role to be observant but I’m desperate.
To my surprise, a faint blush appears and he breaks my gaze to examine his boots. “Forget I asked. I just thought it was strange that’s all.”
The fragile trust between us fractures and a wave of loneliness rises up through me. I don’t want to return to isolation, to push him away. I can offer him some truth at least, “I hate failure. I am working on something but it’s not going well. It’s going terribly actually. But if I get it to work, I promise I’ll show you.” It’s a tentative offer, probably more than I should commit to but I don’t want to return to scathing comments and ignoring each other.
