by E. D. Brady
He chuckled and sat down obediently.
They talked casually while she fried eggs and bacon, and made a pot of tea.
When breakfast was finished, they shared another moment of uncomfortable silence.
Annie thought that Kellus was purposely stalling, but couldn’t be sure. “I should head back,” he said thoughtfully.
“Thank you for fixing my gate,” she replied, walking him to the front door.
“It was a pleasure. Thank you for a wonderful breakfast,” he answered. “I’m sure I’ll see you around town. I’ll be ready with my handy dagger the next time you need rescuing from loathsome villains.”
Yes, he would see her around town. She was forming a plan in her head as she watched him walk down the hill.
The following day, she hurried into town despite the fact that she had absolutely nothing constructive to do there, apart from implementing her ill-conceived scheme.
She brought the book that Mrs. Wellum had lent her. Her intention was to sit on the steps of the Bank Building and read for a few hours, hoping that she would get a glimpse of him and to find some reason to engage him in conversation. No good could come from this silly infatuation, she realized, but that didn’t stop her from seeing his face in her mind constantly.
After an hour of unsuccessfully trying to concentrate on the first paragraph, she saw blue from the side of her eye. Eight apprentices descended the steps of the Citadom.
Her stomach fluttered with anticipation. She stood up and quickly walked through the market, pretending to be interested in buying fruit, thinking of any excuse to approach Kellus.
It took her only a moment to realize that he wasn’t among them. Disappointed, she walked back to the steps of the bank and opened the book to continue her pathetic attempt at concentrating.
‘This is utterly ridiculous,’ she silently scolded herself. ‘Why should I feel disappointment over not seeing a man that I barely know, one of the apprentices, no less?’ She suddenly felt very foolish for sitting around waiting to get a glimpse of him, and decided to go home.
As she passed by a shop on the left side of the market, she happened to glance in the window and noticed the most beautiful hair clip she’d ever seen. It was round and silver and covered with tiny crystals. She loved the way it caught the light, throwing rainbows through the window.
Knowing that she couldn’t afford such a lovely object, she walked into the shop and waited for the shopkeeper. Finally, after a minute or two, he approached. “I’d like to see the hair clip in the window, the one with the crystals,” she announced.
The shopkeeper nodded. He came back seconds later and placed the clip into her hand. She stared at it longingly. Although she was not one to normally desire pretty trinkets, this hair clip was special. It was the prettiest object she’d ever seen.
“It would look lovely in your beautiful hair,” a voice whispered into her left ear.
She turned her head quickly and instantly felt her face flush. It was him—Kellus.
She handed the clip back to the shopkeeper with a thank you, effectively addressing both men at once.
“Hello, Annella Derlyn. How are you?” he asked formally.
“I’m well, thank you, and you?” she replied happily.
“Much better for seeing your smile,” he answered, causing her heart to skip a beat.
Something in his formal greeting caused her to remember a burning question she had. “Kellus, I’m curious to know how you knew my name. I meant to ask you the other day, but it slipped my mind.”
“I knew your father,” he answered, smiling sadly.
“How did you know my father?” she asked.
“As a boy, I worked in my father’s shop during the summer,” he explained. “Your father delivered goods to us from the port. I spoke with him on many occasions, three or four times a week. He was a good man.”
She was surprised. She hadn’t anticipated that explanation. She wondered why her father had never mentioned him.
“My family attended your parent’s funeral,” he continued. “I know you wouldn’t remember us from that day, but I remembered you. I felt so sad for you, and remember wanting to say something comforting, but I was an awkward boy,” he chuckled. “I also remember being intimidated by your beauty.”
“It was a very sad day,” she admitted, unable to think of any other reply. “So, your father owned a shop?” she asked, hoping to lighten the mood.
“He still does,” Kellus replied. “This one.”
“This is your father’s shop?”
“Yes, and this is my father,” he answered, nodding in the direction of the shopkeeper who still held the clip in his hand.
The shopkeeper and Kellus were so alike that Annie wondered how she hadn’t noticed sooner. The shopkeeper was tall and handsome, about forty-five years old. His hair was dark brown with gray speckles peppered through. He had twinkling eyes, like someone who found great joy in life.
“You are Annella Derlyn?” the shopkeeper asked.
“Yes, sir, I am. I assume you knew my father also.”
“Yes, I did. He was a wonderful man,” he replied.
“Thank you,” she responded sadly, feeling her eyes begin to sting. She still found it hard to talk about her parents, even after so many years.
“Are you alright? Would you like to sit for a moment?” Kellus questioned.
“No, I’ll be fine,” she assured him.
Kellus continued to stare into her eyes, causing her to feel uncomfortable suddenly.
“Would you like to buy the hair clip, Annella? the shopkeeper asked. “I would like to give you a special price.”
“No, thank you, sir, I was just admiring it,” she answered.
“Please call me Tol,” he said kindly.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Tol, but I should be going now,” she said.
“I should be going as well,” Kellus added. He bid goodbye to his father and held the door opened for Annie.
She walked through the door and turned to say goodbye, but must have misjudged the distance between them. When she turned, they were much too close, merely inches apart—her eyes were level with his collarbone. They both blushed and took a step back.
“Goodbye, Kellus,” she said bashfully.
“It was a pleasure to see you again, Annie,” he answered, staring deep into her eyes once again. She had a feeling he wanted to say something, but thought better of it.
She broke the stare and walked up the hill.
The rest of the day was spent in inner dialogue, arguing with herself that this attraction was useless—despite her growing infatuation—and that she must put him out of her head completely.
She went to sleep quite content that she had come to her senses, that she would no longer think of Kellus constantly, and that her more logical side had won the battle.
By morning, however, it was obvious her efforts would be in vain.
“Annie, look at this,” Max called from the front door.
“What is it?” she replied, rising her voice above the patter of raindrops that pelted her bedroom window. She decided to stay in bed later than usual. It was a wet, miserable day, a perfect day to finish the book Mrs. Wellum had lent her, or rather, to start it, since she still had no idea what was written on the first page.
“Come here and see,” he yelled back.
She pulled the blanket off the bed, wrapped it around her shoulders, and walked up the hallway to the front door, feeling agitated. “What is it?” she moaned.
“Look there,” Max said, pointing outside the door into the rain.
A small black box sat in a puddle on the top step, a soggy note tucked underneath it. The note tore apart when she picked it up, but she could make out enough of the lettering to tell it simply said ‘To Annella’. She looked up and down the hill. There was no one in sight.
“What is that?” Cora asked.
“Give me one second,” Annie answered, pulling the lid of the
wet box. Inside, sitting on a velvet cushion, was the hair clip that she had admired in Tol’s shop.
Cora and Max both stared at her, waiting for an explanation. “It’s from a friend of mine, a man that knew father. I met him yesterday while I was admiring this,” she said, overcome by the surprise. So much for her plans to forget Kellus.
“Him…a man?’ Cora squawked.
“Why would this man leave such a pretty gift outside our door for you?” Max asked.
“Are you really that dimwitted?” Cora snapped. “Because he likes Annie; he’s trying to win her affections, of course.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Annie broke in “He is just being kind.”
“Annie, are you really that dimwitted? Cora questioned.
“Trust me, Cora; this man is not in a position to win anyone’s affections.”
“He’s married?” Cora gasped.
“No, he’s one of the apprentices,” Annie replied.
“Is that all?” Cora responded smugly as if that proved her right. “Just because a young man is not supposed to have a romance, does not mean that he doesn’t want to. I think it’s obvious by this pretty gift that this apprentice thinks of you as more than a friend.”
Annie was elated by the possibility that Cora could be right, that Kellus actually cared for her. And then she remembered, with bitterness, that it didn’t change the fact that nothing would come from it.
Chapter 8
The day of the Mid-Spring festival arrived.
When evening fell, Annie pulled her favorite skirt from her wardrobe—a long, light-green, gauze and satin summer skirt with intricate embroidered whirls around the bottom, and tiny sequins sprinkled through. Her blouse was off-white with a square neck, tight waistband, and loose flowing cuffs.
When her hair was dried and her curls sitting perfectly, she pulled a piece of hair back from both sides on her head and joined them together in a thin braid, secured with green and white ribbons. The rest of her curls flowed freely over her shoulders.
“You look beautiful, Annie,” Cora said, walking through the bedroom door.
“I was just thinking the same thing about you,” Annie replied.
Cora wore a long, light-blue, sleeveless dress, tight through the waist. Her hair was piled on top of her head. “I doubt anyone will notice me when I’m standing next to you,” she answered, smiling broadly at her older sister. “You will undoubtedly be the most beautiful woman at the festival.”
“Thank you, Cora,” Annie said emotionally.
“I’m serious,” Cora remarked. “You’d better be on your guard, or you will be targeted by every drunk with a false sense of confidence.”
They met Max at the front door and left the house together.
The weather was perfect, warm and balmy, but with a soothing breeze, making the evening seem even more magical.
When they approached town, Annie was shocked to see the amount of people that were walking up the narrow road beside the Citadom, to Lanshore Field, all dressed so festively. She could hear music before they approached the town center.
Poles were erected every three feet around the entire circumference of Lanshore field, each pole holding a blue paper lantern on top. There were many more lanterns inside the field, hung on dozens of tree branches.
Barrels of beer and wine were heaped up, stacked across the back of the field, and to the right of those, were many tables laden with all kinds of food.
In the center of the field, a large bonfire—standing at least twenty feet high—was ready to be ignited.
On the left side, near the entrance, a collection of musicians played a cheerful melody.
Everywhere Annie looked, there were elegantly dressed people greeting one another.
As soon as they sat on the grass, between the bonfire and the musicians, she saw them. Four young men were walking in their direction, all wearing the apprentice uniform. Kellus was looking directly at her.
He came to a dead stop in front of them and looked down. The other three apprentices stopped behind him. “Good evening,” he said, smiling.
“Good evening to you, too,” Annie replied. “Have you come to enjoy the party?”
“No,” he replied, shaking his head, “we’re on duty, unfortunately. We’re here to make sure that everyone behaves in an orderly manner,” he added, gesturing to his three companions. “With all the beer and wine available, we’ll see to it that the gentlemen remember to behave like gentlemen.”
“Come on, Kellus, we’re supposed to meet Mandolis for assignments,” a handsome, blonde apprentice urged. He was one of the two that escorted Annie’s harassing sailor from town.
“I have to go,” Kellus said regretfully. “Enjoy the party, Annie.”
As Kellus started to walk away, Annie impulsively jumped up and walked after him. “Kellus,” she called, “may I speak to you briefly.”
“Go on ahead, Danus,” Kellus said to the handsome blonde. “I’ll catch up momentarily.” He turned to her, arching his eyebrows questioningly.
“I want to thank you for the hair clip. It was extremely generous of you,” she muttered.
“What hair clip?” he asked, looking confused.
“The one that I looked at in your father’s shop; you left it on my doorstep,” she replied.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responded. He bowed to her and began to walk away, but turned back, looking over his right shoulder, and winked with a sly grin.
Her heart fluttered in her chest.
“The man that knew father, I assume.” Cora eyed her sister knowingly.
“Yes, it is,” Annie replied, unable to erase the smile from her face.
“Handsome,” Cora muttered, nodding her head in approval.
The musicians played the perfect combination of upbeat tunes, and then slower, more melodic pieces that seemed to accent the clear, breezy night, creating an enchanting atmosphere—and complementing the thundering applause of the crowd as the bonfire roared to life.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” Cora asked. “I’d be happy to get it for you?”
“Yes, please,” Annie replied.
“Bring me a glass of fruit juice,” Max called after her as she darted through a group of people.
She returned ten minutes later, holding two glasses in her hands, wearing a devious smile.
“What?” Annie asked, knowing that her sister was up to something.
“I saw your apprentice,” Cora replied with a smirk. “I was wrong before. Under the light of a lantern, I could see that he is much more than merely handsome.”
“Really?” Annie feigned boredom, unwilling to give Cora the reaction she wanted, knowing that her sister was trying to gauge how she felt about Kellus.
“He was carrying a barrel of wine to replace an empty one. He has beautiful arms…very strong,” Cora continued. “He asked me if I was your sister, and then he asked if the wine was for you. When I told him it was, he asked if I thought it would make you tipsy.”
“Is that so,” Annie replied, keeping her eyes firmly on the musicians.
“When I told him that it might, he said he would thoroughly enjoy seeing you intoxicated,” she said.
“One glass of wine will hardly make me tipsy, and certainly nothing near intoxicated,” Annie stated, trying to sound completely uninterested. Inside, however, she had butterflies from her toes to her back teeth.
As the evening wore on, a man that Annie knew from school approached her. His name was Sul, and it had been at least five years since she’d seen him last. “Annella Derlyn, is that you?” he called from a few feet away. “It’s been such a long time.” He sat down on the grass next to her without waiting for an invitation.
“Hello, Sul. It’s nice to see you again,” Annie replied warmly.
“Are you here alone?” he asked. “Apart from your brother and sister, I mean. Do you have a date for the evening?”
“Only my brother and sister,” she answer
ed.
“We’ll have to do something about that then,” he teased. “Do you mind if I stay here with you for a while?”
They quickly settled into a comfortable conversation. Sul had moved to East Vistira and was teaching at a school. He loved children and wanted desperately to start a family of his own as soon as he found a bride. Annie had an uneasy feeling that she was being interviewed for that position.
“May I get you another glass of wine?” he asked. “I’m going to refill my beer.”
“Thank you,” she replied, handing him her empty glass. Uncharacteristic giggles erupted from her as he walked away.
Cora smirked. “If your apprentice wants to see you tipsy, now would be a good time for him to show up,” she said teasingly.
“I’m not tipsy, only in a good mood, there’s quite a difference. And, by the way, Kellus is not my apprentice,” Annie answered firmly, keeping her last thought to herself, ‘though I wish he was.’
Moments later, Sul was back on the grass next to her. They continued to prattle on about people they’d known in school—who’d married whom, and what jobs certain people had taken. Despite what she’d told Cora, Annie was starting to feel light headed.
“Do you mind if we leave you?” Max interrupted. He was on his feet with Cora. Two boys and a girl stood with them.
“You may go with your friends as long as you promise to meet me here at the end of the evening,” Annie answered.
“Would you like to dance?” Sul asked when the twins had disappeared from view.
They walked over to the musicians where couples were twirling around in circles.
Sul took her hand and gripped her waist, pulling her much too close. “You look lovely,” he said, leering into her face. “You are even more beautiful than you were in school.”
“Thank you,” she replied, trying casually to pull back from him.
Her eyes drifted out into the crowd, warmly illuminated by the many overhead lanterns, while Sul led her around the dance floor.
Suddenly, she noticed Kellus leaning up against a tree, not thirty feet from them. His hands rested on his hips casually, his jaw was set, his expression unreadable, and his eyes were fixed on Annie. She wondered how long he had been staring.
