Oracles of Ice

Oracles or Ice 7

Aethelfrith meandered through the pine toward the small thicket where the blackberries grew in abundance. It had been a few days since he and Anya had really spoken. She hadn't left the domicile, but living with her was not as comfortable as it had been before their move to Warrick. He had risen and dressed every morning only to find that she remained in their bed until he was gone for the day. Their evenings had been hard as well, her fussing about with Mek and busying herself with pointless tasks to avoid him, or so it felt like.

This trip to the pine copse near the shore had been on his mind since the day he had spoken to Gaielle. She was a mystery, an enigma he wanted to unravel. The way her voice sounded, the way her body moved when she walked. His thoughts had been preoccupied with her for days, and he felt like a wild animal in need of a kill.

When he approached the thicket, she was not there. His heart sank. He searched the nearby pine but didn't find any trace of her. A narrow winding path led in the direction of the shore, so he followed it. It had been the way she'd traveled after their last meeting. He wondered if it may lead him to her. The pine grew thicker as the path neared the shore, and then it opened to a vast sandy beach that stretched both ways out to the Simeon Ridge. Waves crashed hard on the shore, warning him not to draw near.

Aethelfrith was stumped. He hadn't passed a ranch, a cabin, anything. Confused, he looked around the beach for a moment and then decided she was not coming. The small path he had followed out of the pine invited him back into the embrace of the trees. He breathed out his disappointment and sighed. Probably for the best, he thought to himself. The last thing he needed was another woman to complicate his relationship with Anya. The trees remained still as if they were giants frowning down upon his poor choice. He slunk away from the beach and back toward the berry bushes.

"Aethelfrith?"

He heard her voice, and it froze his feet in place.

"I'm here," she called after him.

He slowly pivoted around and saw her jogging after him. Where she had come from, he would never know. Her wild blue hair had been braided and hung loosely down her back. It dripped, dampening her dress. Her rosy cheeks smiled, and her eyes glistened in the sunlight. Never had he seen a woman so breathtakingly stunning.

"I wondered if I'd find you." He took a step toward her.

"Sorry, I..."

"Nonsense. You're here..." He held his breath for a moment as he studied her. She blushed further and held out his cloak to him.

"Don't you need this?" he asked, seeing the strings on her dress had not been tied.

"It's not cold today," she mumbled, smiling bashfully. She shrugged her shoulders and looked up at him. Her perfect, straight, white teeth captivated him.

He noticed she wore the same dress she had worn when they had first met, but dismissed it, thinking she was most likely a peasant and had no knowledge of him being their new leader. He didn't mind. He liked the anonymity of it all. She wasn't moved to be his companion because of his status, and he liked that. His entire life he had been "the king's son," and he hated that the status gained him anything he wanted. Truly, he lived in luxury because of it, but it meant fake people cozying up to him for knowledge of the royal family, and not because they were truly interested in friendship. Anya herself was only an arrangement of politics, though he had grown to deeply care for her.

He felt paralyzed by his attraction to this woman. It was the first time he had found himself lacking words to say. He could only look at her with interest and hope she sensed the same thing he did. He marveled at the sheer perfection of her skin, as if it had never seen a day in the sun. Her high cheekbones framed the most beautiful violet eyes that glowed with fire and curiosity. She looked at him as if she had also never seen someone quiet like him.