Across the table, Bren shook his head.
That night, Ainsworth went through the motions of packing his things. Enach had spun his logic well—it really was time for Ainsworth to check in with the institution, and with the Transportation Circle in place, he could be back at the inn as soon as next week, should he need to be. “But still, pack all your things just in case,” Enach said when they were in his room.
“Perhaps when we have finished packing, we could have…afarewell drink downstairs?” Ainsworth asked when he came down from the attic archive, hands full of his quills and parchment. Enach did not ask to see Ainsworth’s archival construction, nor did he seem interested in reading anything Ainsworth had written thus far. It definitely wasn’t up to Enach’s standards anyway, Ainsworth reminded himself. “I should like a chance to say a proper goodbye.”
Enach was folding some of Ainsworth’s clothes, ready to be placed back into his trunk. “We really should get an early night. It will be a long day at the library tomorrow, and you know how much Transportation Circles take it out of you.”
“I do, but…surely one drink won’t hurt?” Ainsworth dared to suggest.
Enach turned to him abruptly. “You’ve certainly changed, haven’t you, among these country folk with their meaningless lives and all the time in the world to drink and eat and do nothing worthwhile. They have rubbed off on you.”
Ainsworth felt his skin prickle, and was about to protest Enach’s remarks…but hadn’t he expressed that same kind of sentiment to Honey when he first arrived here? When he could not comprehend why Alvea would leave her success behind? When he wondered why someone as talented as Ruraidh stayed here, why someone as entrepreneurial as Quiddle was in the kitchens, or someone with an eye for herbs like Spin was stuck all the way out here with nothing concrete to show for their skills and talent bar their room at theback of the inn? When he believed it tragic that Honey was cursed to live here?
“Well, I—I mean, by that logic, sleeping would not be much more productive, would it?” Ainsworth replied instead.
Enach stood up, slipped his arms around Ainsworth’s waist, and pulled him close. Enach was only slightly taller—though with his lack of antlers, it was technically Ainsworth that was the taller of the two. For the first time in a long while, Enach’s decadent fragrance engulfed Ainsworth—the rosewater scent that lingered on his skin, and the sharp hint of citrus oil that he ran through his hair. All that expense had once impressed Ainsworth, made him long to be close to Enach, to experience such luxury.
Now he only felt nauseous.
“Instead of going downstairs, I was thinking we could perhaps spend some time together, just the two of us?” Enach whispered into Ainsworth’s ear.
Ainsworth felt his heart begin to hammer. Was this what he wanted? No? Yes? He thought of his conversation in the kitchen with Honey, and what he had said to Ashe. All those letters burned to a crisp.
Oh, why did everything have to be so tangledup?
“Ah, well, these rooms, you see, are usually communal…I would not wish to be disrespectful to future guests, as people don’t usually…be togetherin here, if you know what I mean?”
Enach raised a brow. “I care little for any future patrons, but I do not wish to have such a night in a communal space. I doubt that dunelfen lad does a thorough cleaning job. He seems barely capable enough to hold a broom…”
“Enach…Ruraidh is my friend,” Ainsworth offered in weak defense. Enach merely shrugged and went back to packing.
They eventually went down for a drink, Enach getting a frosty reception from Bren despite the coin he offered for his finest bottle of wine (which was, Enach muttered to Ainsworth later under his breath, “nothing special”).
It was nothing like the usual nights at the inn. Enach clearlyradiated a contempt that suggested he would scorn the kind of singing and dancing they usually indulged in. Instead, they sat at the table by the hearth, chatting in small groups as Ainsworth made his way around everyone to thank them and say goodbye. “For the time being, anyway. When I next return, there may be so many guests, there is no room for me!”
At one point, Honey sat next to Ainsworth, placing a light hand on his shoulder. She did not look at him, but said: “I know how hard you worked on that application, so well done. And I will always be grateful for you making the inn more accessible, for bringing so many people here for us to meet. Even if youhavemade more work for me in doing so.”
They were stiff, formal words.
Ashe sat across the table from them, sullen and silent as she watched the interaction, her face arranged into something only just more amicable than a scowl.
Ainsworth did not know what to say. He wished desperately for them to slip away in private so he had the space to try and articulate his feelings, but with Enach sitting at the table, keeping an eye on the time and clearly wishing to get away…
Ashe rose abruptly. “Ainsworth, I just recalled the papers I promised you.”
“I— What?”
“My family’s papers, documenting druidic remedies and recipes. You said you were interested in reading more about your heritage, correct?”
Ainsworth blinked. He had said no such thing, and he suspected Ashe did not have any such material—not based on what she had told him about her childhood.
Still, he rose, following his instincts. “Ah. Of course…Can you bring them to me?”
She shook her head. “No, they’re precious old books I wish to keep in my room. Come, take this chance to browse, as you do not know when you will be back.”
He turned to Enach, who seemed to spend a moment decidingwhether he wished to stay by the fire and wine, or accompany Ainsworth to study a subject he deemed uninteresting. “Do not be long; we must retire soon!” Enach said eventually.
“I wouldn’t let him anywhere near my room anyway,” Ashe muttered under her breath as she led Ainsworth away.
