by Carol A Park
And he was right—agreeing with her own instincts about the style back when she had first seen it. It did look good on her. It accentuated her figure and drew attention in the right way to her chest—making her feel less like a top-heavy girl and more like a curvy woman.
“See?” he said, meeting her eyes in the mirror, his hands still on her shoulders.
She nodded. “You’re right,” she said. His presence directly behind her was rolling into her like waves against the shore.
“Are you sure you won’t take it?”
“I-I can’t. I’m sorry.”
He hesitated again, opened his mouth, closed it, and then shook his head. “Very well. But I confess. I lied.”
“Wh-what?”
“I can’t return it. I had it altered for your measurements. But no matter. I’m sure someone in my household will appreciate it.”
She blinked. “My measurements? How…How would you know that?”
He shrugged. “I guessed.” He smiled. “I guessed right, apparently.”
She finally turned around, but he didn’t move, and they were closer than they had ever been before, her breasts brushing his chest.
He looked down at her, and then…
He kissed her.
A hundred thoughts exploded in her brain. That they shouldn’t be doing this. That she shouldn’t be doing this. That she hadn’t intended on it getting this far. That she had never thought he would be interested in her enough to take it this far. That she had only known him for a month.
But the thought that she didn’t want to think any of those things won, and she kissed him back.
And, burning skies, it was nothing like it had been with Cern. His lips were soft and gentle, not wet and sloppy; it was almost like he had done this before.
Maybe he has, the collective of other thoughts whispered.
She shoved them away. Who cared? He was here with her now.
Their kisses grew more heated. More heated than they had ever gone with Cern.
Oh gods…
She was delirious with pleasure, with giddiness, with nerves…
“Oh, Ivana,” he whispered, finally leaving her lips to tease at her ear with his breath. “I-I have to confess. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. And I want you so badly right now.”
The shock of his words forced her to pull back from him. “Wh-What?”
He let go of her and ran a hand through his hair. “Too soon? I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have… Of course, I don’t know how you feel about me.”
She didn’t want him to think she was a prude. Or that she didn’t care for him. Or to go away and never come back.
“N-No,” she said. “I just… I wasn’t quite ready for… I’m not expecting… I don’t know if I’m ready for th-that just yet.”
“Of course,” he said, still shaking his head. “I was wrong to suggest it. I’m so sorry.”
She held out a hand as he stepped away, a part of her crying out for him to stop, to let go of her scruples and do whatever he wanted.
But it was too late.
He did lean forward and kiss her again, long, slow, and sweet. “I’ll see you later?”
She nodded, speechless, and he gathered up the box and climbed out the window again.
She sat down on the bed, hugging herself across her chest, realizing that she still wore the dress.
What had just happened?
Ivana didn’t tell Izel about her meeting with Airell. Why should she? Izel didn’t understand, and Ivana had simply stopped talking to her about it.
So they were silent as they lay on their pallet that night, Izel’s chatter about the day’s events long since fading into the regular breathing of deep sleep.
But Ivana was awake, still reeling over what had happened earlier. She still had the dress. She had rolled it up tight and shoved it into her bodice for the rest of the day. As little fabric as it had and as large as her bosom was, it wasn’t even noticeable. She had then stowed it in her personal chest the moment she’d arrived home. She didn’t know what she would do with it.
Had Izel been right? Had this all been a long ploy to seduce her? But he seemed so genuine, and why would he have stopped earlier if that were the case? He had respected her decision, regretted that he had asked in the first place.
No, he cared for her. Feelings like that could make people do strange things.
A soft rapping sounded at her window, and she sat up. She glanced at Izel, who was fast asleep, and crept over to the window.
She gasped. Airell stood there, a cock-eyed grin on his face and one finger to his lips.
She glanced back at Izel again, but she hadn’t stirred. She eased the window open, and before she could think, climbed out. She could hardly speak with him while in her room.
“Airell!” she whispered. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
He shrugged, seeming sheepish. “I asked around,” he said. “Wasn’t hard. As to what I’m doing here…” He paused. “I had to see you, Ivana. I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”
“You either?” she whispered back, feeling giddy again. But she tried to stave him off. “You can’t be here. If my mother or father comes…”
“Do they usually disturb you in the middle of the night?” Airell asked. “Come with me. I have something else to show you, and I’ll have you back long before sunrise.”
She hesitated and looked back in the room. Her parents might not notice she was gone, but Izel, on the other hand…
This was foolish. She would get into so much trouble.
But instead of refusing, she held up a finger to indicate that he should wait and then crept back into her room to retrieve the dress.
Izel turned over and sighed in her sleep once while Ivana rummaged around, but she didn’t wake.
Once she had climbed back out again, Ivana pressed the dress into his hand. “You forgot this,” she said.
He beamed. “Hold on to it. Come on.” He grabbed her hand, and together they snuck away, down the path toward the woods on Lord Kadmon’s estate, but still within the walls.
She looked back toward the house before it disappeared out of view, almost expecting to see Izel’s head popping out of the window, watching her go, but the house was still and quiet.
She pulled back as they entered the woods. “What of bloodbane?”
He waved his hand and tugged her forward. “There are no bloodbane here.”
She nodded, still nervous, but her nerves weren’t related to bloodbane anyway.
Another set of boxes waited for them in a small clearing. So he had already been here?
“Open them,” he said again as they reached the spot.
“Airell, not again.”
He gestured. “Just open them. Then I’ll explain.”
She sighed and opened the top box. In it was a pair of shoes, finer than she had ever owned, would ever need.
“To go with the dress,” he said, smiling.
“But—”
“Shh,” he said. “Open the other box.”
She shook her head and did as he asked. She stifled a gasp and reached out one trembling hand to lift a necklace from its velvet casing. It was beautiful. And so…expensive-looking. She set it back down. “Airell,” she said firmly. “Enough of this. I am not—”
“I want you to go to the Harvest Ball with me this fall,” he said, touching her cheek again.
She blinked. “What?”
“My father will be furious, of course, for not taking one of the noble-women he’s been throwing at me, but…”
This was so far beyond the realm of possibility that she could hardly comprehend what he was saying. “I don’t understand.”
He took her hands in his and looked deep into her eyes. “I want to be with you, Ivana. Forever. I love you.”
She swallowed and started to tremble. “But I’m-I’m—”
He pressed his lips to the back of one hand. “I don’t care. I just need
time to bring my family around to the idea. Can you give me that time?”
She swallowed and nodded. It barely registered that he hadn’t even waited to see how she would respond. And why should he? What sane woman would turn him down?
“Now,” he said. “One more favor before I return you home.”
She couldn’t speak.
“Try it all on. I want to see how the shoes and necklace look. Ladies’ fashion isn’t really my area of expertise. I can exchange those if need be.”
She didn’t even protest this time. Her head was spinning so rapidly that she mutely waited for him to turn around again, and then she shed her clothes. She pulled the dress on and had barely pulled it up over her shoulders when his hands clasped her bare waist. He had tucked them beneath the fabric of the dress—which wasn’t hard, considering that it had little in the way of a back.
Before she could speak, his lips were nuzzling her neck, and then her ear. “Ivana,” he murmured. “It’s just us.”
His hands traveled up her waist and to her ribcage.
She gasped and turned around, shocked at his forwardness…but he kissed the protests forming on her lips away.
He finally pulled back to look at her, but his hands were warm against her back, tracing slow circles on her skin. “Have you thought about what I said earlier?”
She stared back at him, speechless once again. Her entire body was on fire, and her mind was foggy. She was having trouble thinking straight. But a thought pierced it all. Burning skies—Izel had been right. He had lured her here, and now he was going to take her, no matter what she said.
But he didn’t kiss her again, seeming to sense her hesitation. “Of course,” he said, starting to pull away, disappointment, even unhappiness, on his face. “If you’d rather not, I understand.”
No. Izel was wrong. He loved her. He loved her, and he wanted her. They were going to be married.
She took his hand as he started to drop it. “No. I do want to.”
He smiled, pleased again. “I was hoping you would say that.”
Airell took the dress, shoes, and necklace for safekeeping. She had insisted. She couldn’t keep such items in her house, even buried in her chest. She snuck back into her room, no one in her household knowing she had been gone. Izel still slept deeply, shifting once as she lay back down next to her, but not waking.
How was she supposed to fall asleep now, after such a night? He had swept away the last of her reservations with his smooth touch and gentle kisses, and before she had known it, she had given herself to him completely.
She couldn’t shake the worry that she had fallen for some elaborate trap. And for what? But if all he had intended was to use her, surely he wouldn’t have been so gentle, so understanding, so willing to please her in ways she thought only existed in silt novels.
Despite her initial feeling that she would never fall asleep, she did in fact fall asleep shortly thereafter, warring thoughts of ecstasy and shame tinting her dreams.
Chapter Six
The tinkle of a tiny bell announced Ivana’s arrival in the apothecary a week after Elidor had set her to her new studies. He had given her money to purchase some basic supplies for her studies and future experiments.
Some herbs, of course, she would have to purchase from less “respectable” merchants, either because they were illegal or wouldn’t normally be sold at a common apothecary.
She tried not to think about that. For now, she just needed the basics; Elidor had nothing by way of the supplies she needed.
Boden, the apothecary’s apprentice, was there again, his back toward her while he pulled empty bottles off a shelf and replaced them with full ones from a box he held. He turned at the sound of the bell and flashed her a huge grin when he saw her.
“Ivana, was it?” He walked over to the counter to set his box down.
She nodded and handed him her list. “I need everything on this here.”
He took a minute to read down through it, then looked back up at her, his eyebrow raised. “This is extensive. Planning on setting up a competing shop?” But his eyes danced as he said it, so he couldn’t have been serious.
She repeated the script Elidor had given her. “I’m an apothecary’s apprentice myself,” she said. “Back home, in Ferehar. But I’m here in Carradon staying with a relative for a few months, and I can’t neglect my studies while here.”
She hoped she sounded convincing. Deception wasn’t one of her strengths.
He tilted his head and studied her face. “So when you said you were looking for work…”
“Hoping to earn a little pocket money for staying in practice.” She gave him a hesitant smile.
He returned the smile. “All right. Well, it’ll take me a little bit to gather this together. You can come back if you’re in a hurry, or…”
“I’m in no hurry,” she said. Being in the apothecary was significantly more appealing than sitting in her tiny room staring at the wall. “You have everything?”
“For the most part,” he said. “We might be out of turmeric. And dennil root…” He furrowed his brow. “We don’t get requests for that one often. You’re more likely to find it at one of the apothecaries closer to the university; we deal more with your run-of-the mill cough and fever here.”
Ivana held up her hand. “If not, that’s fine.”
“I know Da Grania has it in her own supplies, but I don’t know if she wants me selling out of that.” He hesitated. “I’ll see what I can do, anyway. If you don’t want to walk all the way over there, that is.”
“Yes, that would be fine,” she said. “Thank you.”
He rummaged around beneath the counter, pulled out a wooden box, and turned his back to her, one hand holding the list, the other trailing along bottles on the shelf behind him. He selected one, tapped out some of the powder within into a smaller container, and set it in the box. “So I’ve been dying of curiosity. Star-leaf as a pain killer?”
“Oh,” she said, twisting her hands together. “It’s a little something my—I mean, I discovered a while back. You can eat the leaves, but it has some pretty unpleasant side effects, especially in large doses. If you grind the leaves into a pulp, extract the juices, and dilute them into a tincture, the side effects aren’t as pronounced while the benefits are nearly as effective.”
He was quiet for a moment while he continued to gather the supplies on her list. Finally, he spoke again. “I don’t think I’ve ever experimented with the leaves themselves. I mean, obviously the seeds…”
“You’ve experimented with the seeds?” she teased, recalling his reaction last time.
“No—well, yes.” He held one hand out defensively. “But not in the way you’re thinking!”
Something unexpected happened. She laughed.
And it felt…good.
He exchanged a smile with her. “You really do know about this, don’t you?”
Her cheeks warmed. “It-It’s not as much me as, well, it’s sort of a family occupation, so I’ve had a lot of time to…” She trailed off.
“Your father or mother is an apothecary?”
She swallowed, any trace of her previous laughter gone as fast as it had appeared. “More like…scholars.”
He raised his chin and studied her, his eyes serious now, as if he could tell that she wasn’t telling him everything.
She cleared her throat, turned, and pretended to browse one of the racks behind her.
He respected her silence and returned to collecting her supplies. About ten minutes later, he spoke again. “All set. Everything but the turmeric and the dennil root.” He held out her list. “If you want to try back in about a week, I know we’ll have more turmeric, and I’ll ask Da Grania about the dennil root and let you know when you return.”
She nodded and moved to the counter. She took the list, pulled out the coin purse Elidor had given her, and then looked at him expectantly.
“Oh. Seven setans,” he said. He hesitated, as if apologetic
about the high price. “It was a long list.”
“No problem.” Elidor had given her three times that much. She counted out seven setans from the purse, and she slid them across the counter with a scrape.
And the memory of the last time she had counted out coins at an apothecary swept over her senses like a flash flood. The smells were suddenly overpowering, her vision wavered, and her lungs tightened as though for lack of air.
Boden’s eyes flicked from the purse to her and back again. “You’re welcome to open an account and pay monthly,” he said. “If you think you’ll be back a lot, that is.”
She hardly registered what he was saying. “I might do that,” she murmured, eager to leave.
“I don’t know what kind of set up your relative has,” he added, as though it were an afterthought. “But if you want more advanced tools, you’re welcome to… I mean, I don’t think Da Grania would mind if I showed you around a little.”
He met her eyes and gave her a shy smile.
“Sure,” she said out of reflex. She inclined her head, grabbed the box, and hurried out the door.
Ivana didn’t check back at the apothecary for her missing ingredients for two weeks. She was irrationally afraid of being taken off-guard by her own weakness again. However, Elidor had been asking about her progress, and she was very rationally afraid of angering him.
But dennil root was an ingredient in a few of the recipes in one of the more advanced books Elidor had obtained for her.
So two weeks after her initial trip for supplies, she forced herself to return to see if Boden had managed to procure some dennil root for her.
Boden wasn’t there, but a smartly-dressed, handsome man waited at the counter, looking bored. He glanced toward Ivana absently as she entered, and then he looked again. His eyes flicked over her several times and then rested on her chest, as if he were appraising the value of one of the alembics on the shelf. Then he lifted his eyes and winked at her.
She resisted the urge to fold her arms across her too-large bosom. Instead, she clutched at the fabric of her skirt with both fists and tried to ignore him. Why were so many men such asses? And such overt assess? At least Airell had had the courtesy to pretend to be a gentleman.
