That's another problem for another day. Have to wake up first. At the end of the corridor, Tash pushed open one of the two vine-engraved wooden doors that led into the kitchen and hurried inside.
He stopped cold.
Arieve stood at one of the three grey stone tables in the centre of the room, tying on a long, light-coloured apron over her dusky green tunic and black pants. The two hearths to her right blazed with fire. The stone ovens in the wall behind her had also been lit.
Gorgan bumped into the doorframe behind Tash and cursed. Tash winced as Arieve startled with their arrival, a smile quick to brighten her features.
"Arieve," Tash said, clearing his throat. "You're here early." He shoved Gorgan into the hall gently, his other hand lifted to ask for privacy. To his relief, Gorgan nodded and disappeared further down the corridor.
"Cook's not feeling well." Arieve rolled up her sleeves. "She asked me to run the kitchen—something about not gobbing up the meals." She coiled her hair then secured it with narrow sticks and small clips. "I'll take requests, though. Any cravings?" Head tilted, she swept hair across her forehead. "Or is there another reason you look like someone's rammed a rod straight up your insides?"
"Just steeped herbs," Tash said, hoarser than expected. Closing the door, he dared to move closer. He could not be mortified to stand in the same room as her.
"I've got the perfect thing. I'm having a cup myself." Arieve turned to one of the hearths and snatched a towel from the bar beside it. She fussed with the kettle on the rack above the flames. "Mm, more like a vat. I can't seem to wake up today, no matter how much snow I got down my cloak. All I want is to crawl into bed with someone warm and squishy."
Arieve stilled, her hands paused in midair. "That's not a means to pressure you, I swear." She peered over her shoulder. "I meant what I said. I'll wait until you have an answer."
"I understand. I wasn't going to assume it was." Tash settled at the edge of the table where she had previously stood. The tables were large, placed side by side with several foot lengths between them. During the day, they would be covered with food and all manner of dishes. At the moment, the tables were orderly and clean. Thick wooden cutting boards and blocks of knives sat in wait. Wooden bowls and linens were stacked along the edges.
The rest of the kitchen was twice the size of the dining room. Counters and cupboards spanned the length and height of the walls. No space was left unused, every shelf and countertop utilized to their greatest capacity. Burlap bags of flour and salt sat in one corner; barrels of ale and mead stood in another. Bundles of herbs hung from twine strung around the room. Pots and pans were everywhere, placed wherever they fit, he supposed. In the back corner of the wall to his right were two doors: one to the room where dinnerware was kept, and one to the pantry where they kept preserves and dried goods, as well as an entrance to the cellar.
In the wall to his left, attached to a cupboard, was the hidden door that appeared to lead to the dining room. In truth, it was a passageway to the lower levels and a way out of the estate. One of the many, he had discovered.
Tash focused on the crackle of flames while Arieve moved through the kitchen. As she returned to the table, two glazed clay mugs in hand, he struggled to clear his throat. He accepted the cup she offered, the potent scent of painfully sweet winter herbs and fragrant autumn spices rising with the steam.
"You're not coming down with something, are you?" Arieve rested her elbows on the table, both hands wrapped around her mug. "It's something else, isn't it? Someone, perhaps?"
"With such perception, I've no doubt you'd make a good mother." Tash flushed. Those were not the words he had meant to say, and not like that. "That's not to say I didn't think you would. Or will. Or that we don't think you can't—"
Arieve was silent, her fingertips circling the lip of her mug. "We're grown-ups. We can be honest," she said softly. "And honestly, I'm ready. I've been wasting time on someone who's never ready for the serious stuff. I'm always too far ahead, stuck on wanting what she doesn't. I want to be able to hug my own whiny, snot-faced half-pint and mother them till I die. If I have nothing else, that would do me."
Misery splashed across her face, her eyes downcast. He had never seen her so desolate.
"We all go at our own pace." Tash raised her chin and turned her face towards him. "It doesn't mean she'll never want it. Or maybe she does and she can't say it. There's still hope." He tucked a stray white curl behind her ear, letting his fingertips brush her cheek—a test for them both. Difficult as it was to touch her, it was just as easy. "Sometimes that hope needs a nudge from another."
"Like what?"
Tash breathed in. Someone has to say something. May as well be me. "Like someone who wants you to have the life you want. Two someones who can help you get there." He drew the back of his fingers along her jaw, delighted that she leaned into his touch.
She clutched his hand, keeping it on her cheek. Her green-brown gaze searched his. "Does that mean what I think it does?"
"If you want it to, yes."
"Both of you?"
"Yes."
Arieve curled her fingers into his palm. "I promise you won't regret it," she said. "We'll do this right. Just keep talking to me. Tell me how I can make it good for you. Anything. Everything."
"You're sweet." Tash caressed her hand, reluctant to pull away. She needed the contact, evident from the relief in her eyes. How starved was her spirit that she took so much from such a simple gesture? If she could trust him enough, perhaps she would tell him what errant paths had left her that desperate. Or Mayr would.
Past aside, she had his attention. He had not lied when he told Mayr he considered Arieve attractive: she was someone he would have lain with before he met Mayr. The more difficult fact was that Arieve reminded him of Inesta in the early days of their relationship, an awkward truth he would keep to himself.
Tash kissed her fingers. "I'll let you get back to work. We’ll talk later?"
"Yeah." Arieve blinked, staring at his mouth as he withdrew.
"Thank you for the drink." Mug in hand, Tash forced his feet to carry him from the kitchen. He should have waited for Mayr before saying something. But her emotions were on display, waiting to be beaten down. I couldn't let her submit to that, especially since I know how it feels.
He sighed and sipped his drink, falling into step with Gorgan on their return to the stairs. There was more to do, more to say if he could focus long enough.
They ascended the stairs in silence. Lost in thought, Tash turned into the corridor towards the bedrooms, while Gorgan slipped into the corner that was his post. When Tash entered the room he shared with Mayr, the bed was empty, the sheets straight and flat. Candlelight filled the room from his left.
"I was wondering where you'd gotten to," Mayr said from the table. "Please tell me you brought that for me, whatever it is." Dressed only in pants, he leaned over the washing bowl. His face was already wet, his hair still unbound, and both of his hands were cupped in the water.
Tash joined Mayr. "We can share this for now." He set the mug on the end of the table, away from the bowl and the candle next to it. "I'm reasonably certain Arieve's keeping large amounts of it today."
"Arieve?" Mayr splashed more water on his face then grabbed the towel beside the bowl. "What's she doing here?" He grumbled into the towel before drawing it down his jaws and neck. "She's due in at noon like usual."
Tash bit his tongue as rogue droplets rolled down Mayr's naked chest. He could take care of them, no towel required. If only he had the time. "She's in charge of the kitchen today. It seems our beloved Cook is ill."
"That'd do it."
Nodding, Tash turned towards the window. A new writing desk sat beneath the sill—another gift from Mayr—along with the necessary things to write the letter forming in his thoughts. There were hundreds of words, a dozen messages to covey. Not all of them would sound best coming from his lips. Some were meant to be written, captured in corporeal form with
ink and parchment, words that were meant to be read and reread, particularly when life was unkind and emotions even more cruel.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
"I spoke to her," Tash answered quietly. "I shouldn't have done it, not without you, but her face… her face said everything. I couldn't let her spend another day like that, so I told her we were in agreement. I'm sorry I didn't wait. I just couldn't…"
In few steps, Mayr was by Tash's side. Lips pressed to Tash's cheek, he pulled Tash into his arms. "If you're worried I'll be angry, don't be. Really wish I could've been there, but I'm not angry," he murmured, nuzzling Tash's ear. "How'd she take it?"
Tash leaned into Mayr's touch. "Pleased. Relieved."
"So we're getting ourselves a girlfriend?"
"Looks like it."
Faster than Tash could blink, Mayr's mouth was on his, softer than Mayr's grip on Tash's hips. "One day at a time," Mayr whispered. "Slow as we need."
"I know." Tash strode across the room to the writing desk. With parchment, ink, and white quill in hand, he returned to Mayr and placed everything on the table before sitting.
"What are you doing?"
Staring at the emptiness of the beige parchment, Tash took a nervous breath. "We need to court her properly. We should at least try to be gentlemen. She needs to hear she's important, that she's someone special. I thought I'd start with a letter, asking her to consider spending time with us and offer her a place in our shared affections." He looked up to Mayr. "It feels right, doesn’t it?"
Mayr hands slid down Tash's chest as he leaned forward and kissed Tash's cheek. "Yeah, it does. It feels more than right." He clasped Tash's hands and drew them across Tash's chest, pinning Tash's folded arms with his own in a tight embrace. "So let's write that letter," he whispered. "Lay our hearts down, dearest love, and let everything else fall into place."
Chapter Eight
Their letter was answered with one from Arieve, filled with so much enthusiasm that Tash could sense her giggles between the words.
Five evenings later, that same glee radiated from her as she sat with Mayr and Tash in the dining room of the estate. Even so, the more they spoke to Arieve, the more nervous she appeared. A deep blush spread beneath the pink powder colouring her cheeks, despite the glow in her eyes that never dimmed.
Tash sipped his mead while Mayr and Arieve discussed the meal. Mayr and he had planned the night to a fault. After playful argument and merciless teasing, Mayr persuaded Aeley, Lira, and the rest of the household to lend them private use of the estate for the evening. Most had found alternate arrangements: Aeley and Lira were at the tavern with Pellon and a band of guards; Ress and Adren were at the temple with their own guards; and staff had gone wherever they pleased. Guards remained at their usual posts, though they operated under special orders.
Mayr had also taken it upon himself to cook. Tash had erupted in fits of laughter at the sight of Mayr dusted in flour and herbs. Dressed in an adorable white apron, his black hair braided and pinned up in a neat coil, Mayr had been a delightful vision waiting to be undone. When Tash had teased Mayr about his ability to cook, Mayr flicked broth at him, almost staining Tash's robes. That was the last time he dared to enter the kitchen.
The effort had not gone to waste. The food was presented with beautiful care, every garnish and piece deliberately placed. It was a feast of aesthetic to fuel what was to come.
If we ever get there, Tash mused with a frown, studying the room to distract himself. Pristine white linens and candlesticks adorned the long table. Mayr sat at the end, facing the doorway, with Arieve to his right and Tash to his left. Shadows filled the rest of the dark red room, flickering around the glass and gold dinnerware. An elaborate glass vase stood in the centre of the table with a bouquet assembled that morning. Leaves and petals spilled onto the tablecloth, a mix of fresh branches of red-black leaves from the winter garden and delicate pink silk flowers with cream-coloured pearls and white jewels. Their stems were fashioned from dried, golden stalks wrapped in bronze coil, crafted by Orlee who usually sold them at the village market.
Pretty as everything was, the growing hesitation worried Tash. Despite their feelings, Mayr and Arieve never touched. They spoke like casual friends, desire confined to subtle looks and small movements that never connected. The most contact had been Mayr's fingers interlaced with Tash's for the majority of the meal.
Is he backing out or building up to it?
When Arieve caught his glance again, Tash smiled. With another blush, she lowered her gaze and pushed food around her plate. It's the early days of courtship all over again: shy and fearful but curious. Lips pursed, Tash picked at his own dinner. Then again, I'm not doing any better. We're all frightened to make the first move, too afraid to shatter this before we piece it together.
Tash squeezed Mayr's hand and raised his goblet. "I'd like to thank you both for this evening. Mayr, for sharing your talents and making me look like a terrible cook, and you, Arieve, for putting up with us."
Mayr raised his goblet to Arieve. "I completely agree. Thanks for trusting I wouldn't ruin it all." He cleared his throat. "And for saying yes. You didn't have to, but you did. That's worth so much more than this."
"I know." Arieve's hand snaked towards Mayr's arm. After a moment, she clutched his sleeve. "I really do."
The next instant, she released him and fingered the loose curls of her hair before toying with the colourful beads in her slim braids. She fidgeted, appearing uncomfortable in her white gown and black leather bodice. The floor-length gown draped gracefully over her shoulders and fell to her wrists in tiers of flared sleeves, alternating between lace and silk. Her bodice hugged her curvy form with a rough touch, laced up both sides with trailing black laces. Somewhere between the delicate fabric that should be peeled away slowly and leather that could be ripped off in frenzy were Arieve's expectations.
Mayr had also dressed for the occasion. In tight black clothes that emphasized all the parts Tash loved, Mayr was as beautiful as the first time they met. His hair was loose, save the strands tied back from his face with red ribbon. He looked strong but uncertain, dedicated but searching for where he mattered.
If Arieve did not want him, Tash would take him, adoring Mayr until exhaustion consumed them.
But tonight's not about him and me. It's supposed to be us, even with our trepidation. Crafting our future requires words, some which might choke us faster than humility.
Tash considered his options. Had Arieve been like his former lovers, he would have offered light humour and coaxed her into telling him more about herself to ease her worry.
The days for that had passed. Prior to his relationship with Mayr, Tash had conversed with Arieve in Orae's tavern several times. She was pleasant, thoughtful, and her kind energy swept over his bruised soul like a spring breeze. Since then, Mayr had told him about Arieve, including how Mayr had gotten Arieve the job in the Dahe estate for her seventeenth birthday.
Charmed by her graces, Tash visited the kitchen at the estate or Orae's tavern at least every other day to greet Arieve. While he used the time to thank and bless the staff and their labours, he also took in moments of her. Arieve was easy on his weary mind. Neither imposing nor demanding, she was confident and made him smile, even if no one knew it.
The only thing he had overlooked was the depth of Mayr's emotions for her. In every glance between them, Tash searched for those feelings. In every near-touch, he waited for the spark of their want. The longer they subdued it, the more frustration demanded he do something.
"Arieve." Tash cleared a path among the bowls between them. He reached for Arieve but stopped, resting his hand on the table. She returned his steady gaze, her red-painted lips parted slightly. "You needn't shy away from us. We're here because we want to be. This is a night of safeness: safe words, gestures, and intent. Except it's not safety from each other: it's for each other." He glimpsed at Mayr. "We must be willing to trust and let ourselves fall within that trust. If we seek
to create a life, we must first embrace the hope in that gift."
"Meaning…?" Arieve asked.
"Tell us what you're hoping for tonight." Tash gestured to Mayr. "I know what we're willing to do, but I'd like to hear your thoughts."
Arieve's lips worked soundlessly. "I don't… I just, I mean, I don't…"
"Know?" Mayr finished, his smile crooked.
"No, I know, but…" Arieve eyed Tash's hand, his palm turned up to encourage her touch. "I don't know how to ask or even if I should. This isn't… I'm not used to this. I don't know what's appropriate, or if I'm completely wrong for wanting things." She clutched her head in both hands, staring into her lap as she mumbled. "My thoughts are so lewd I can't even begin to describe how rotten I feel. I wanted to be a proper lady about this, but I don't know what that looks like. I thought I did, but it's unraveling."
Tash swore a string in his heart broke for her. Another threatened to snap, teetering on the edge of raw and finely tuned. He recognized her torment, the tip-toeing around the line between what felt right and what others expected.
"Forget propriety." Mayr clasped Arieve's hand. "Whatever you feel, go with it. I promise we'll still be here."
Arieve lifted her head and gazed at their hands. She stroked his knuckles before pulling away. Pain flashed across her features as if someone had strummed a sour note.
"You're allowed to touch him," Tash said softly. Could that be the issue both she and Mayr struggled with? Was it simply a matter of consent?
When silence answered him, he had all he needed.
Tash pushed up from the table and grasped Mayr's hands. "Come with me." Startled, Mayr followed him to the open area between the table and the doorway. He stopped in the centre of the space and squeezed Mayr's shoulders. "Stay there."
On his return to the table, Tash held his hands out to Arieve. "You too."
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