“Alvea, this is wonderful,” Enach exclaimed after his first spoonful, much to Ainsworth’s surprise and delight. And then, sending his heart crashing down: “But it is a world away from the food I am used to being served from your kitchen.”
“Well, get used to it.” Alvea snorted. “Your colleague did.”
“Oh, I would hope Ainsworth referred to me as more than a ‘colleague’!” Enach laughed, placing a hand on Ainsworth’s shoulder. Ainsworth let him do it, and gave an uncomfortable laugh of his own.
“Well, I…of course!” said Ainsworth. Not entirely a lie; Spin had asked plenty about Enach during the early days of their acquaintance.
“W-when did you two meet?” Ruraidh asked, and Ainsworth was all too happy to slink into silence, bar the odd nod and laugh at appropriate moments, as Enach recalled their early days as students at the Skarrow Institution and how he first noticed Ainsworth when he shot to the top of their history class with his excellent papers. Enach had a way of glossing over those turbulent first few months of their courtship, omitting his early dalliances with various other students when Ainsworth had been under the impression they were exclusive. Enach had, of course, claimed that he had made it very clear they were not and that Ainsworth had misunderstood.
Throughout the meal, Enach worked his charm on them—intertwined with clever, concealed insults that never failed to hit their mark, yet were phrased so that the target wouldn’t pick up on the meaning until later, if at all. Enach’s conversation was like a strong spirit—utterly intoxicating and dangerously risky. But only later did you feel how indulging in it hurt you.
Ainsworth’s stomach tightened. Alvea was right; with every bite of food, he felt his strength return to him. But the unbearable weight of Enach’s presence, the finality of it, was too much.
Enach was here to take Ainsworth back to Hinslyth.
Unless Ainsworth was brave enough to resist him.
He cursed himself under his breath. Since when did henotwant to go back? It was foolish. He always knew he would have to return at some point. The project parameters needed updating for the funding council. He could do most of his write-up at the Skarrow Library, and besides, he’d have to return to the Misnich Inn on and off anyway for further research on the curious phenomenon affecting the adventurers. With the Transportation Circle on the hill outside the inn, he could be back here in no time.
But he sensed that something fragile he had established here would break if he left now. The easy way of life he had descended into, the way he helped with tasks around the inn and took joy in simply being with its inhabitants, at ease with them in a way he had not felt since he had left, and then lost, his family. It was not something he had felt at the Skarrow Library, even with his dearest friends. Many of them were like Enach—cutting him with compliments-turned-criticism. Treating him as a name to be brandished in front of others to highlight how distinguished their networks and connections were. He had noticed that occurring more the higher his career climbed, and he had thoroughly relished it: that his had become a name that could be dropped.
Next to him, Honey leaned down and picked up something from the floor. “Your little book, Ains,” she said. He could almost sense Enach stiffen at the use of his nickname. “Sketch anything interesting this trip?”
And of course, there was Honey. Several times a day over the past moon’s turning, he had found himself making excuses to spend time with her—bringing her “news” of his research, pestering Alvea to let him brew her some tea, the many trips they had taken to the standing stones at the bottom of Mount Vengeance, their hands brushing every so often as they made the long trek. And then suddenly he didn’t need to make excuses, for she always seemed to be there alongside him—standing by his side shelving scrolls in the attic, knitting by the fire as Ainsworth sat engrossed in writing in the tavern room, dragging him out the door in the foulest weather so they could go foraging, then warming up together huddled under blankets and hands wrapped around hot mugs. Did he truly wish to walk away from that—from her?
Honey flicked through the pages of his small book—it must have fallen out of his coat when he placed it on the back of his chair—and suddenly she smiled.
“What?” Ainsworth asked.
She turned it toward him, holding both pages open, to a page of absent-minded doodles he had made during times of restless solitudewhen Ashe was off hunting or scouting. “The way you’ve captured the rocks of the mountain face here,” she said, almost breathless. “You saw the place differently this time, didn’t you?”
He met her gaze, and for the first time that evening his mind cleared as his thoughts turned to the mountain range. “I did. The landscape was more than I took it to be the first time.” Ainsworth smiled, feeling his shoulders loosen and his stomach finally settling.
“I’m glad,” Honey replied softly.
“Ainsworth.”
Ainsworth turned from Honey quickly. “Yes, Enach?”
“We should turn in for an early night, have a bath, get packing.” He leaned forward to peer at Honey. “Therearebathing facilities here, correct?”
“You’ll find them on the second floor,” Quiddle replied from the other end of the table.
“So you’re leaving tomorrow, then?” Honey asked, a lightness to her voice that was not quite sincere.
“Oh, Ainsworth, you can’t! Not yet,” Quiddle wailed.
“Well, I—I do not wish to leave you all so suddenly—” Ainsworth began, but Enach cut him off.
“Ainsworth has much work and explaining to do back at the library. But should the need arise for further research here, it is only a jump through the circle.”
Ashe scowled. “Sounded to me like you had plans and the funds to stay here longer, Ainsworth.”
“Well, I did,” he said. “But I now realize I should probably—”
“If Ainsworth wants to leave, he can leave,” Honey said as she stood up. She began stacking the empty bowls in her hands. “In the morning, I can see about your refund for any nights you paid for in advance.”
She walked to the kitchen without looking back. Ainsworth made to rise and follow her, but Enach’s hand was on his shoulder, pressing him down.
