#wellin!mc

There were a couple more close calls, regardless of how careful she was, but Adie did reach the gazebo undiscovered. And just in time: a thin streak of pink cut across the horizon. Adie perched herself on the seat facing east, curled into as small and unobtrusive a posture as she figured would be comfortable for long enough to watch. As the pink began to spread and fade orange and gold at the edges, she idly gathered her hair over one shoulder, fingers moving by instinct to split it in thirds. As golden wings streaked by purplish-pink spread behind the sun’s orange fire, her fingers moved to braiding the strands--a quick and easy process even though she’d yet to brush her hair this morning. She secured the temporary braid by taking part of the longest trailing end and wrapping it several times around the rest. It wouldn’t hold long, but she didn’t need it to. Ria and Sayra would have to take it out to brush the golden waves anyway.

As the last edge of the sun slipped over the horizon, sky still a spectacular display of color, Adie rested her chin on her drawn-up knees, feeling oddly contemplative. Sunrises always reminded her of Father. After Mother died, he’d started watching the sunrise every morning. And when Adie, an early riser even as a child, crept out to join him, he let her. “Life will demand much of us,” he’d said, sitting her on his lap. “We should take joy in simple pleasures like nature’s beauty and those we care about while we can.” It wasn’t until years later, when he took sick, that Father confessed the rest of why he loved sunrises; the warm orange that dominated them in Wellin reminded him of Mother’s hair. After his illness claimed him, Adie stubbornly maintained the tradition. If Mother was the warm orange, Father was the brilliant gold. She watched the sunrise to remember both of them as best she could.

It was easier with Father; Mother had died when Adie was all of two or three. She hadn’t lost Father until her teens. Still-

The soft rustle of footsteps both human and animal interrupted her reverie. Heart pounding, Adie looked around around for somewhere to hide. The gazebo was too open, and finally, in desperation, she scrambled over the railing to hide in the surrounding bushes. Hopefully whoever was approaching would chalk the rustling up to wildlife. Adie pulled her cloak in close and brushed hair out of her eyes as the steps grew closer and she heard the distinctive nicker of a horse. She couldn’t see who was leading it, but servant or delegate really made little difference. She wasn’t supposed to be here and would be in just as much trouble either way.

Her hiding place was far from comfortable. The mildly contorted position was making her back ache, and a trio of branches wouldn’t stop poking her in the arm. She shifted to try and at least get away from those, caught her ankle on a low, snarled branch, and with a thoroughly unladylike squawk, tumbled out of the bush. Right in front of the approaching horse and accompanying individual.

As she lay there, dazed from having the wind knocked out of her, not sure if those bright spots were part of the sunrise or the result of banging her head, there were hurried footsteps, punctuated by, “Are you alright?”

Clarmont. Oh, merciful God in heaven, kill me now. Adie squeezed her eyes shut.

“Ariadne?” The footsteps had stopped, very close, and she could smell his cologne; same as the night they’d had dinner.  The concern in his voice was equally clear.

Adie opened one eye. The last vestiges of the sunrise were still dazzling, fading pink and gold turning Clarmont into an auburn-haired silhouette. “Lord Clarmont.”

He chuckled, crouching down and offering her his hand. “So formal,” he chided with a crooked smile as he helped her sit up. “Are you hurt?”

“Only my dignity,” Adie said gamely, her smile turning to a wince as she rubbed the back of her head. “And that was already a lost cause, so no lasting harm done.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” Clarmont straightened and offered her his hand again. “Grievous a loss as one’s dignity can be, coming to real harm would be far worse.”

Adie clambered back to her feet on her own--noting a few twingey spots--and started picking leaf bits out of her rapidly unraveling braid. Quite the wild child I must look... “If my dignity is the worst injury I suffer here, I shall indeed count myself lucky.”

Clarmont’s smile widened at her show of independence. “Since we’ve established that you’re alright, Countess, would you care for an escort back to the manor?”

Yes. She squashed the thought--and the close-on-its-heels dreamy sigh--and flashed him a mischievous grin instead. “Oh, Lord Clarmont, you know how I feel about one-sided acts of chivarly,” she said playfully.

“Ah, but what if I said your company would greatly improve our morning walk?” he returned, twinkle in his dark blue eyes as he nodded toward the bay horse waiting patiently behind him.

“Well then.” Adie’s face warmed and she briefly dropped her gaze as she smoothed out her dress. “That wouldn’t be one-sided, so that would be fine.”

“Excellent.” Clarmont smiled warmly. He gestured toward the path he’d been walking. “Shall we?”

Adie nodded and tucked her hair behind her ear--finding a twig she’d missed in the process. “One condition, you can call me Adie-” She broke off with a hiss. Turning to fall in step with him had shifted her weight, sending pain shooting through her ankle at the increased pressure. “Ow!”

Clarmont grabbed her arm to help her stay upright. “Ariadne-”

“Adie,” she corrected through clenched teeth. She was mildly impressed he didn’t wince when her fingers dug into his arm.

He raised an eyebrow as they waited for the flash of pain to subside. “Do you always invite rumor by allowing potential suitors to call you by so familiar a name?”

As he’d probably intended, the amused question distracted her and earned a chuckle. “No, I just really prefer it to Ariadne. And you’re the one who asked me to walk with you,” she reminded him. “So you invited rumor first.”

“A fair point,” Clarmont conceded easily. “But it was intended as an escort for you, which you appear to actually need now.”

Adie was about to protest, but testing weight on that ankle proved it not up to the task. “I don’t think it’s that bad,” she said all the same. “Otherwise I would have felt it when I stood up.”

“It’s still bad enough to be a problem, Adie,” he replied gently. “Here.” And without giving her time to question or protest, he swept her off her feet and up to sit on the horse’s back. (if she enjoyed the way his hands lingered on her waist a couple heartbeats longer than strictly necessary, well, no reason to bring that up, right? ) “I assume you know how to ride?”

It took a great deal of self-restraint not to swivel and swing one leg over so she could ride astride, as she did at home. Perhaps don’t overwhelm the man with your unladylikeness. He already knows you hide in bushes and are too independent for chivalry. “I do, thank you. But now who’s inviting rumor?”

Clarmont met Adie’s mischievous smile with one of his own. “You’re hurt. Helping you back is simply the chivalrous thing to do,” he said, eyes twinkling.

“Ah, so I’m thwarted into accepting chivalry after all,” Adie sighed dramatically.  “You win this round.”

Clarmont’s smile widened as he nudged the horse into motion. “I shall endeavor to be a gracious victor.” They began the walk back in silence, but it hadn’t even been a full minute before he half-turned to look at her and asked, “So why were you out here, alone, this early?”

She coughed sheepishly and swept hair out of her face with one hand. “It’s... silly.”

“I doubt that,” he cajoled. “But if you truly don’t want to tell me-”

“I wanted a better view of the sunrise,” Adie blurted out. Caution was the watchword for this summit, but she’d never been good at caution, and she was fairly certain she could trust him. “The ones I’ve caught from my room were all gorgeous, so I wanted to properly see one.”

“Oh? And how was the view from the bushes?” Clarmont teased

Adie huffed in exasperation. “I was only in there because I didn’t want to get caught. I watched the sunrise from the gazebo.”

“Was it as pretty as usual today? I was in the stable with Sarel here and missed most of it.”

“It was,” she nodded. “Pink and purple and gold, with brilliant orange... One of the most beautiful things I’ve seen in my life.”

“Well, now I’m sorry I missed it,” Clarmont chuckled wryly. “You sound very passionate about it, sunrises must be important to you?”

“I used to watch them with my father,” Adie said softly, tightening her grip on Sarel’s mane. “Before... before he got sick.”

Clarmont gave a barely perceptible flinch and canted his head to look back at her. “You were close.”

Of course he understood, Adie reflected, looking down at her hands as she thought back to their dinner. “We were, yes. He was my world for the majority of my childhood. Mother died when I was... very young, so he was all I had.” She was babbling and she knew it, but the sunrise had her in a nostalgic mood, and Clarmont seemed willing to listen. “All I remember of Mother is her laugh. And Father used to say I got her eyes, whenever he was feeling wistful. But I have a lot of good memories with him. He’s the one who insisted my childhood be...”

“Less structured?” Clarmont offered when she hesitated over phrasing.

“Oh, I like that,” Adie laughed. “Very polite. Much better than the innumerable wild child or ragamuffin’s I got when I showed up barefoot with mud on my skirts and flowers in my hair.”

Clarmont’s smile was visible even from her vantage point. “That would be a sight to see.”

She smirked, cautiously letting go with one hand to sweep hair out of her face. “I’m not a little girl anyone, so sadly, you get me with sticks in my hair, instead.”

He was full-on grinning when he turned to meet her eye. “And still a pretty picture.”

Adie was flustered into silence for several seconds at that. Pretty was not a word often used to describe her. ‘Quaint’, ‘charming’, ‘not unhandsome’ (like she was a cottage or something) but ‘pretty’ she’d only heard from her father and Henrietta. The people of Holt loved her, however her behavior and upbringing drew more attention than her looks. “Thank you,” she finally managed, her smile more genuine than teasing now. She lapsed back into silence for a minute before asking, “So, um, what are the sunrises like in Revaire?”

She’d caught him off-guard, she could tell by the ticking seconds that passed before he answered. “In a word? Faded. They’re the same colors as in other places, but... softer.” Clarmont shifted his grip on Sarel’s reins, his thumb rubbing the leather. “Pale pink, lavender, soft orange, yellow instead of gold. Generally lighter shades than elsewhere.”

“Sounds beautiful,” Adie said. She meant it. Much as she loved the vibrant colors of sunrises at home, and the richness they had here on Vail Isle, the pastel look Clarmont described was undoubtedly lovely, too. I’d love to see one...

“Perhaps someday you’ll get to see one, Countess,” Clarmont said, meeting her gaze with a knowing smile when she looked up to protest the switch back to her title. They were almost back to the castle, so best behavior was once again required.

Adie fought the urge to groan. She hated best behavior, and wasn’t particularly good at it. But they were already verging on scandal returning together (especially as she’d snuck out, and oh God, was Jasper going to lecture for that), she didn’t want to make it worse. Clarmont still had a decent reputation, even if she didn’t. So she restrained herself to a coy, “Perhaps I will.”

Clarmont’s expression was carefully neutral as he brought Sarel to a halt in the courtyard and circled to help her down, mindful of the attention they’d drawn, but his eyes danced with mischief.

Adie bit back a mischievous smile of her own as he settled his hands on her waist  and helped her slide off the horse. There were so many comments she could make. She wouldn’t, because one of the doormen was approaching, but it was very tempting. So instead she simply braced her hands against his shoulders until her feet touched the ground.

“There we go,” Clarmont murmured, maintaining his gentle grip on her waist until she was steady, weight balanced on her good leg.

Adie let her hands linger against his chest as long as she dared, tilting her chin back to meet his gaze. “Thank you, Lord Clarmont.”

“Think nothing of it, Countess,” he demurred, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “It’s my chivalrous duty to aid a lady in distress.” Schooling his face neutral, he turned to greet the approaching doorman, neatly denying her a retort.

That’s alright, Adie mused, only half-listening as Clarmont filled the doorman in on what happened. We’re going to be here several more weeks Plenty of time to get the best of him.

Once apprised of the situation, the doorman readily offered to help Adie back to her room. Fortuitously enough, he was just the right height for her to lean against without it getting awkward.

“Well, Countess Ariadne, this would be where we part ways and I wish you a speedy recovery,” Clarmont smiled. “I need to get Sarel back to the stables, and you need to let Lionel here help you back to your room so you can get that ankle seen to.”

“Thank you once again, really,” Adie said, leaning heavily against Lionel’s shoulder. “I would have been in real trouble if you weren’t there.”

“You’re very welcome, it was my pleasure.” Clarmont’s smile widened and he sketched a brief bow before turning to lead Sarel down the path back to the stables.

It was tricky to get back to her room simply due to all the stairs, but Adie and Lionel managed it--without further injury to either to them, which Adie considered a minor miracle. Ria and Sayra were, of course, anxiously waiting for her to return. Adie sighed internally and resigned herself to some well-intentioned smothering.

“Oh, my lady, what happened?” Ria asked, eyes wide with concern.

“I... went for a walk to see the sunrise and tripped,” Adie replied, mentally crossing her fingers that her story matched what Clarmont had told Lionel.

If it didn’t, the doorman gave no indication; simply helped her to the bed, nodded respectfully, and took his leave. The maids bustled into action once he was gone. Sayra headed off to find Jasper and a doctor while Ria set about making Adie comfortable. The redhead’s brow furrowed as she eased off Adie’s shoes.

“Your ankle looks awfully swollen, my lady,” she fussed. “Are you sure it’s alright?”

“It only hurts when I try to walk on it,” Adie said reassuringly. She wiggled her toes. “Didn’t hurt, I promise. It’s likely only twisted, maybe sprained at worst.”

Ria nodded, but she still looked nervous until the doctor arrived and confirmed Adie’s guess. She’d only sprained her ankle, and slightly at that. Jasper returned while the doctor was wrapping it and relaying care instructions. Beginning with two days’ bedrest, which made Adie groan. She was going to get very bored very fast. Worse, this meant she was literally a captive audience for Jasper’s disappointed speech on how the delegates were not supposed to be out of the castle so early, she was going to damage her already tenuous reputation, yada yada. 

Adie feigned contrition before requesting some books from the library-- ”Preferably fiction, but history’s good too”--which Sayra headed off to acquire. “Otherwise I’ll be fine alone.” Jasper and Ria took the hint and departed with a bow and a curtsy respectively.

Now there was nothing to do but wait for her books. And try not to let her thoughts linger on a blue-eyed Revairan noble whose chivalry she didn’t entirely mind.