𝘏 𝘌 𝘓 𝘓 ' 𝘚 𝘎 𝘈 𝘛 𝘌 «𝔡𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔬𝔫𝔰»

●︎ 𝙖𝙡𝙧𝙞𝙘 𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣

The boy clutched the skirts of his mother's elegant dress as if somehow his hold would will her to stay. There were tears from the moments prior that finally swelled large enough to stream down his rosy cheeks. A gaggle of maids cooed around them and a wave of inappropriate anger surged in the child. He hated that they didn't take his pain seriously. Why couldn't they listen to him? "Mama," he croaked in his high voice, lip trembling. "Mama, don't go."

His mother ran her hand through his bright red hair and clicked her tongue twice in a way that he knew was tender and adoring. The feeling of her gentle fingers on his scalp halted the tears for a few moments before he let out a wail and buried his face in the deep blue fabric of her dress. The servants began to coo and giggle again. "Alric," Mother whispered sweetly, taking his small hands in hers, and she knelt before him and wiped away his tears that clouded his steel grey eyes. "Mama has to leave, you know this. And I'll only be gone for two weeks, darling."

"Take me with you, Mama."

"Oh, my sweet child." She pulled him into her arms and rested her cheek atop his head. "I promise you that it won't seem so long. And the court is providing me a wizard to send you letters. Your father will read them to you, and you two can write back." Alric, like the stubborn child he was, shook his head and stuck out his bottom lip. Maybe that would be enough to make her stay. "I love you very much, Alric. Now, hurry to the kitchen and take a sweet tart from the chef. I will see you soon." She hugged him and kissed his forehead, her pale curls tickling his freckled nose, and Alric abandoned his tantrum and embraced her tightly.

"I love you, too, Mama."

The bedroom door swept open loudly, and Alric rose from his dream with clouded eyes that flitted to the candle beside him—three levels melted down. He had only wished to rest for an hour or two. Now he woke with a slight temper. As the door closed, the clicking of heels echoed in the room loud enough to make the man grimace in annoyance. Annette's perfume flooded his senses and he breathed in slowly, contemplating if it were acceptable to attend the stables to ready his horse for a ride. Or gather a few soldiers to train. He turned his head to the window and held in a groan when he realized it was past sundown.

"Feeling better?" Annette's voice was leveled. She stood by her mirror and began removing her jewelry.

"Yes," he lied in a simple tone. He had left the gathering early because of an "oncoming headache" but in reality he needed an excuse to remove himself from the society of high minded nobles that crammed themselves into his home for a supper Annette had thrown together only a few days prior. Now with his nose unable to block out his wife's perfume, there really was a threat of a headache in the close future. Alric shifted slightly on the bed and tugged at the loose white shirt hanging off of his body. It stuck to him slightly in the growing heat of the room. He would have a thorough talking-to with the maid who kept after the fire in his bedchambers...

"Here," he heard his wife say as she rounded the bed with a damp cloth to blot upon his forehead. She did look beautiful in her attire from the evening. The dress was a deep scarlet color with tiny sparkling stones littering the fabric. He knew it was expensive, as Annette's taste always was, but he would admit she was beautiful in it. He studied her in silence with the cold cloth cleaning his face, her plump lips parted in a slight smile, and he saw that she had already removed her makeup from the night. Alric closed his eyes. "Henry waltzed with an adorable young girl just a few hours ago," she noted.

He shifted to lay on his back again. "I hadn't noticed."

"You had already retired. Maxwell also talked with many respectable nobles tonight—he was the spitting image of a young king surrounded by an adoring court. He's gotten so much better with expressing himself at these events. Elias and Henry followed at Penn's feet this whole evening, but I didn't expect much else." She went on like this recounting the things she found memorable at the gathering; who said what, flirted with who, and wore what. Those sorts of things were always so important her. Alric began drifting back into his slumber, aggravated with this idle talk. "—Colette even claimed that Ella had stolen her tiara—"

Ella?

Alric eyes snapped open and Annette started. "Who?" he barked. Annette's eyes widened. "I won't repeat myself." He felt his temper physically surging in his chest.

"Eleanor? Of northern Tamron? An old friend of my father. She's just an elf, you know—"

"I see." The boiling anger subsided in his chest just as quickly as it had been lit. He didn't understand his outburst at just the mention of her. Annette didn't know her. No one did. Only Spencer. And he hadn't seen Spencer in nearly ten tears. "Forgive me, Annette."

Annette smiled warily and stood from the side of the bed, wringing her hands and wrists, and Alric noticed that she had dropped the cloth on the tile. "Colette really is a nuisance, don't you think?"

Alric didn't have the energy to remember if he even knew the woman. "Yes," he sighed.

Annette returned to her things and soon was undressed by a maid who put her into her sleeping gown. With a bow the maid left and Annette sat next to him on the bed, brush in hand to tend to her golden hair. "You seem on edge, Alric," she mumbled, running a hand through his hair. He closed his eyes again and winced as one of her nails raked rather roughly along his scalp.

"I am."

"Over what?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with." He pulled her hand from his hair, kissed it, and turned on his side away from her. His eyes focused on the empty space next to him. Even with his wife eventually laying beside him, it still felt empty.

How selfish of him.