by A. R. Crebs
Orin stood near the bookcases, reading poetry from an old book. Women surrounded him, all of them laughing and blushing. Dovian could tell he was hamming it up judging by his exaggerated movements. Quentin sat at a small round table near the dancing area. His wife was by his side and his small children across from him. They each had plates piled with desserts. Being a family man, he seemed at peace as he ignored the rest of the room for those who belonged to him. Dovian had to agree; Quentin’s wife was of extraordinary beauty. Her hair was colored like flames, fading from red to yellow. Her eyes were gray, and her skin was like creamed coffee. The children all looked like Quentin, even the little girl, though she had her mother’s hair and complexion.
A loud voice broke out above the rest, followed by cackling laughter. Lita. Dovian turned his head toward the enormous fireplace—one of the more secluded areas of the hall. He was surprised to see that she was with Karter and even more shocked to find that the boy laughed with her and seemed completely at ease in her presence. The woman was even capable of making a bashful statue of a man appear normal. Dovian smiled, feeling some of his anxiety melt away. Karter was a good man.
“As much as I liked the rough look, you do clean up well.”
Dovian peered to his left to find I’Lanthe sauntering toward him. Her hair was done up very similar to Lita’s. The thought of the two ladies dressing together and dolling each other up was amusing. Plum eyeliner traced her eyes, fading into a charcoal-gray smoky shadow. A touch of pink dusted her cheekbones; a similar gloss wetted her lips. Long silver earrings dangled to just above her shoulders. Bangles clinked together around her wrist. The dress she wore was like the sunset. A deep purple sash covered one shoulder and curved to wrap tightly around her body. The color gradated in a series of red, orange, and then yellow and shimmered with gold from the waist down in slack fabric. As she walked in tall silver heels, the cloth parted on the left side, high up on her thigh. Dovian nearly broke his wine glass between his fingers.
No words escaped his lips.
I’Lanthe gave a shy giggle, looking down at herself and then back to him.
“Forgive my silence as I had to lift my jaw from the floor. I have no proper words to describe how beautiful you look,” Dovian spoke, straightening his posture. He realized he needed to work on his slouching.
“You flatter me too much! But thank you.” She moved even closer still, studying him. “I’ve never seen you so decorated.”
Dovian wore his ceremonial dress. He donned none of his brass and leather armor. Gold chains hung from his shoulders, secured to his collar by glowing blue gems. His coat was adjusted and tied back with a golden sash; his black robes parted around his legs, revealing his dark dress slacks and shined leather shoes. He had neatly shaved and slicked back his hair. I’Lanthe took in the smell of cherries and wood, but there was an underlying scent that she detected, something sweet.
“I usually reserve this garb for holidays. Lita and the others insisted I wear it tonight.”
I’Lanthe’s eyes creased in delight. “And you’d have worn your battle attire instead?”
Dovian shoved his hands into his pockets. “That or my pajamas.”
The woman laughed. “How am I not surprised by this revelation?”
“Perhaps it’s because you know me better than I originally anticipated.”
Her smile faded, but her cheeks reddened. She took a small sip of her dark wine.
Dovian reached inside his coat pocket and retrieved the purple orchid.
She gasped, holding her fingers to her lips. “Oh! You actually kept it after all this time?!”
He sniffed the flower and twirled it. “The smell has softened a little.” He reached forward and neatly placed the orchid in her hair. As he did so, he leaned down to catch the scent of her perfume and whispered in her ear, “But it still reminds me of you.”
I’Lanthe grabbed his hand, her eyes wide. “Would you like to dance?” she blurted.
He didn’t say anything but nodded. Dovian wasn’t the best of dancers, but he couldn’t refuse her. Perhaps it was the wine, but he found himself giving into her much more than he had wanted. After setting both hers and his glass onto a nearby table, I’Lanthe pulled Dovian toward the dance floor; her commanding appearance was enough that everyone moved out of her way without so much a word. Within seconds Dovian was torn from the safety of his corner near the wine and thrust into the midst of socialization. The woman couldn’t help but giggle as she turned toward him, clasping his hand. They waited, Dovian looking over all the other couples on the floor around them, I’Lanthe watching his face. In seconds, the music started up, playing a soft waltz. Dovian had known a bit from his early years how to do a basic waltz, but judging by I’Lanthe’s grace, she was an expert.
“I’ll lead,” she whispered with a wink.
Heat rushed to Dovian’s face.
As they shuffled in slow circles, the woman leading him into a few twists and turns, Dovian couldn’t help but grin. All the others around him appeared refined. He was sure he looked like a clumsy fool.
“Sir, I do believe you are blushing,” I’Lanthe whispered.
Dovian pulled his attention back to her. “I don’t blush.”
She cackled. “I’ve seen your face turn pink plenty of times to know that’s a lie.”
“Perhaps it is the wine,” he dismissed her teasing.
“Are you sure that’s all it is?”
Dovian cocked his head to the side. “That along with the fact that I look like a gawky calf on this dance floor.” She looked to either side of him and giggled. He looked as well and frowned. “You see? They are staring because I am providing a spectacle for sure.”
“They are staring because you look amazing out here. The powerful Dovian, he dances with a young woman. Oh, I can hear the rumors now.”
Dovian lowered his head. “If that’s the case, then I’m positive that their attention is far less on me than it is on you.” He pulled her close as the song changed to a slower pace and situated their hands to where he led. She complied, pressing her body against his as he rested his palm against her lower back.
“This type of dancing seems to suit you better,” she softly spoke.
A hint of a smile curved the edge of his lips. “It’s more intimate.”
She closed her eyes, enjoying his warmth. A soft hum passed her lips. “I like it.”
She felt his hand clench around hers at her admission, and she was delighted with his response. For a while they danced quietly, not paying much mind to the music as they swayed back and forth.
“At the lake behind my home.” His words came from nowhere, confusing the woman. She pulled back a little, giving him a questioning look. “You were a little girl. I never knew your name. You and Lita had been swimming while I read on the shore. You almost drowned.”
She gave a small nod.
“You have been in and out of my life as a tiny ghost. Truthfully, I had no idea what your intentions were during our class. But now, I think I’m finally aware of a few things. It simply took me a while,” he spoke quietly.
“Lita always made comments about you being slow; I always believed she was exaggerating,” she teased.
“Lita is very good at exaggerating, but that may be a case where she wasn’t stretching the truth.” He tapped the side of his head. “I’ll admit I’m sometimes a bit dense.”
The woman snickered. “Not one bit. Though I do suppose you are far too humble, if not a bit timid.”
He nodded, finding it hard to look her in the eye. She leaned to the side, catching his gaze.
“So…sir, have you thought any more about my question?” The woman was incredibly bold, and Dovian was slowly getting used to it. At least she made it clear what she wanted.
“The one about your speech?” he asked.
She nodded. “Had you thought about it while on your journey?”
“What is love?” He sighed, looking at the ceiling in thought.
The music picked up, and Dovian slowly twirled I’Lanthe before he pulled her hips against his. For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to answer.
“Love…is the body’s betrayal of the mind. The fluttering of eyes, the straightening of posture, the incoherent stuttering, the heated blushing. It’s sweaty palms, the wetting of the lips, the breath that is desperate for release to keep up with the quick beating of one’s heart.” He wiggled his fingers, squeezing her hand tightly. “It’s thinking you know beauty and being reminded that you know nothing of it until it’s right before you. It’s the smell of candy and flowers.” Her expression overwhelmed him. Dovian wasn’t sure if what he had said even made sense, but she smiled. Maybe he sounded stupid. “It’s the inhibitions of having too much wine,” he chuckled.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her eyes glistening. Now she was the one nervously looking around the room, her face turning a bright shade of pink.
When she brought her eyes back to his, she found that he had moved incredibly close. Her breaths quickened, and a strand of hair had fallen out of place from when he had twirled her. Gingerly, he brushed the runaway behind her ear.
“You’re beautiful,” he said in a hushed tone.
Time seemed to pause for I’Lanthe.
‘Oh, my Lord, he’s going to kiss me.’ Her mind reeled.
“Lanthe!” a male voice called out.
Like the shattering of dishes in a quiet café, the noise seemed far too intrusive. Suddenly, the music and the chattering voices all around were loud in Dovian’s ears. Whereas before the room seemed silent and intimate, his interactions with the woman suddenly felt dreadfully public. Dovian quickly pulled back, keeping I’Lanthe an arm’s distance away.
“I apologize. I seemed to have lost control of myself,” Dovian quickly sputtered, refusing to make eye contact.
I’Lanthe’s face twisted into a terrible look of disappointment.
A man approached the two of them. Dovian didn’t look at him, but casually stuck his hands in his pockets and slouched as he watched the other dancers on the floor. Of course, he had nearly forgotten. He missed out on fifty years. That was plenty of time for I’Lanthe to find herself a husband or another man of interest. Dovian scolded himself for losing control over his emotions. He couldn’t help but wonder if any of the children currently present were one of hers. The thought made him cringe.
“I’ve been looking all over for you. Are you alright?” the man asked.
“Of course, I’m alright, why wouldn’t I be?” she snarled. It was the most vehement tone Dovian ever heard her use.
“Call me overprotective, but after the last few scumbags, I worry for you,” the man said in a hushed voice, but Dovian’s keen hearing easily picked it up. “I wasn’t aware you were going to be attending the feast tonight.”
Dovian turned toward I’Lanthe and the man. “I certainly hope I have not caused any trouble between the two of you.”
There was an awkward silence. Dovian caught I’Lanthe’s horrified expression. He looked to the man beside her and noticed his questioning look. After a moment, her partner’s eyes brightened.
“Instructor Dovian?” the man asked. His frown quickly formed into a kind smile, a look that didn’t seem to grace his face all too often. “Ha! It is you! You haven’t aged a day since I last saw you!”
The man stood taller than Dovian. His dark brown hair was tied neatly midway down his back. His appearance was bold, lithe, yet intimidating. He wore an emerald and black ceremonial suit; a gold half-moon necklace draped around his neck. Across one side of his face was his Emerald status tattoo. His eyes were very distinct—plum swirled with chocolate.
“Martelle?!” Dovian exclaimed.
The man’s smile broadened, and he happily shook hands with Dovian.
“Forgive me for not recognizing you at first! You’ve changed. Dramatically,” Dovian chuckled.
Martelle scratched the top of his head. “I lost the curls.”
“You look good. I see you graduated.” He gestured to Martelle’s face.
“That I did, alongside Lita actually.” He put his arm around I’Lanthe. “My sister is supposed to receive her honors soon. She’s graduated from Emerald and Scarlet and is halfway into her Azure studies. After that, she will take personal courses with the Elders.”
Dovian’s eyes widened. She had accomplished so much in the time that he was gone. “I’m impressed.”
“I still have a long way to go. I admit I’m a bit jealous. Everyone has their tattoos, yet I still appear as a civilian.” I’Lanthe gave a quiet laugh.
“I don’t care how many classes you’ve graduated from; I still can’t imagine you with any tattoos, Lanthe.” Lita walked onto the dance floor, a glass of wine in one hand and Karter’s coat sleeve in her other. She tugged the nervous boy along with her. Despite appearing a bit distressed, he didn’t seem at all annoyed by Dovian’s cousin.
“Lita, you’ve had that poor boy attached to you all night.” I’Lanthe titled her head, catching Karter’s tired eyes. “Are you alright?”
Karter quickly nodded, a silly smile crossing his face. I’Lanthe smiled in return.
“I’m working on breaking this boy in!” Lita exclaimed.
“He’s a man, not a horse, Lita,” Dovian said in a bored tone.
“Did you know he doesn’t swear?” Lita exclaimed.
Karter blushed beneath everyone’s prying eyes.
“I…I don’t,” he whispered.
“This damn boy is too scared shitless to even say the word ass!” Lita grinned.
Dovian palmed his face, shaking his head. “I’m pleased to know that you haven’t changed one bit, but can you have a little class? You’re a graduate of Emerald for crying out loud.”
Karter’s face reddened even more. “She can say whatever she wants. I find it kind of humorous.”
“As long as she isn’t offending you,” Dovian muttered.
Someone called out to Karter, and the man frowned. “Please excuse me. There’s a relative I’ve not seen for many years that I must visit with.”
Lita frowned. “Go! Be free my stallion! We shall meet again!”
Karter smirked, bowed, and nervously rubbed his hair as he took his leave.
“You’ve made a friend,” I’Lanthe said.
“He’s a good kid,” Lita replied with a small sigh.
“Pretty sure he’s older than you,” Dovian muttered.
“I feel bad for him,” Martelle spoke up.
“Ah, I thought I smelt garbage,” Lita retorted, looking to Martelle.
Dovian’s eyes widened, but he recognized that nobody seemed insulted.
“I’m surprised you could smell anything over the scent of your cheap perfume,” Martelle replied.
Lita gave a low laugh, latching herself onto Martelle’s arm.
“I see no one has disciplined her at all while I was gone.” Dovian watched his cousin poke and tease the other man.
I’Lanthe shrugged. “They’ve always been like this.”
A loud gong sounded, alerting the room that the festivities had come to an end. Nobody would be kicked out, but everyone knew it was time to leave.
“Ah, I must retire for the night. I lingered far longer than I had intended,” Martelle stated. “Lita…” he pried the woman off his arm, “always a pleasure. Dovian….”
“Good seeing you again.” Dovian shook his hand once again.
“I was worried earlier tonight when I saw I’Lanthe with a strange man. I trust you’ll keep a close eye on her,” Martelle spoke.
“Martelle!” his sister sassed.
“What? I trust instructor Dovian far more than the other men in this room.” Martelle adjusted his clothing and then gave a short bow. “A teacher knows better than to make moves on a student, especially one as young as Lanthe!”
It didn’t take a genius to understand the implications behind Martelle’s words. He was no fool, and he had just made it very cle
ar to Dovian that he had better steer clear of his sister. Martelle was right. Dovian was a teacher. It was as he told himself all the years before; I’Lanthe was a woman of class and high status. She would most likely marry another influential man. Though Dovian was expected to become Gold at some point in his life, he had no intention of following through. He was a warrior and a medic, which was good enough for him. Fancy dinners and day long meetings were not his taste. The best option, he reminded himself, was to end things now before they got out of control. He had already misled the poor woman long enough.
Dovian bowed in return. “Of course. To have relations with a student would very much be frowned upon. I’Lanthe was a brilliant pupil of mine. Now that I’ve returned, I’m sure everything will fall back into place as it was before, and I’ll be back to the classrooms. From now on, however, I hope our paths cross again. I would love to hear all the stories I’ve missed out on.”
Martelle smirked. “Of course. We shall do lunch sometime.” The man took his leave.
Dovian looked down at I’Lanthe, noticing the appalled look on her face.
“Yes, instructor. Let’s do lunch sometime.” She barely bowed her head before she grabbed the edges of her dress and spun around to follow after her brother.
Dovian opened his mouth but remained silent. After a second, he felt a hand grip his shoulder. Lita closed her eyes and shook her head in disappointment.
“Dovian…you really are an idiot, aren’t you?” she groaned.
Martelle recognized I’Lanthe behind him, offered her his arm, and allowed her to rest her head on his shoulder.
“I am,” Dovian grumbled, watching I’Lanthe and Martelle make their exit.
"Shocking Beauty"
Chapter 11
As time passed, Dovian went about his days as if nothing had ever changed. He taught his Scarlet and genetics courses, took his naps in the early afternoon, and spent many of his evenings fishing or lounging around his home. Any time he crossed paths with I'Lanthe, the woman had some excuse not to stick around for long. Lita would visit, and they would talk about pretty much anything and everything except for I'Lanthe. Things weren't entirely uncivil. Dovian had caught up with his literature students a few times to have lunch and speak of their old class assignments. I'Lanthe always sat beside Martelle and was often silent. Any exchange she had with Dovian felt forced–not much more than a simple greeting and quick goodbye. At first, it was troublesome to Dovian. He felt awful about what he had done to her. And to make matters worse, he found out that I'Lanthe never once found another man of interest while he was off at war for fifty years. She had been holding out for him.