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In the Aerie, they had a feast. The food was better than the daily fare and the alcohol poured freely. No one had ever suggested that the feast was inadequate. As for Draven, he made the obligatory appearance and retreated to a safe distance. The solstice left him unsettled with Nexus energy at its peak. He hadn’t lost himself and lashed out in rage in years, but why press his luck?
“Nothing is wrong,” Stringer said quickly. “Nothing at all, Lord Draven. Lemoine suggested that your bride might have…expectations. It is a major holiday. I disagree. I think the sooner Lady Charlotte understands our traditions, the better.”
Draven tensed again as Striker uttered Charlotte’s name so casually. “You have a point.”
Stringer’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Good. I’ll tell her to go plan for an ordinary solstice.”
Draven did not listen to Stringer's prattling. The man disliked Lemoine and would question her suggestions if given the opportunity. Their little drama bored Draven. Under normal circumstances, he let them fight it out, but Lemoine rarely wasted his time.
Charlotte would expect a gift. The last time he exchanged gifts with someone he had been human. And on Earth. What could he give Charlotte? She wasn’t interested in trinkets. She desired knowledge, but he already bled out nightly for her. He didn’t know what more he could give in that regard. A party wasn’t enough, but it would be a start.
“Lemoine is correct. We should have a proper winter solstice celebration. I’ll discuss the details with her,” Draven said.
“Are you sure that is wise, consider…” Stringer nodded to the roster list and let his voice trail off.
Yes, considering the events that happened after the last celebration.
“Lemoine is usually correct in these matters. Tell her she may do as she sees fit.” He had a gift to acquire.
Charlotte
The Aerie
Draven’s Library
“Give me your questions,” Draven said, hand outstretched for Charlotte’s list.
He studied the page, ignoring his dinner.
Charlotte picked at the meal, curious which question he would pick. They’d fallen into a routine of him picking one question and crossing it off. There was never a shortage of questions as Charlotte added new questions daily.
Tonight’s meal was a hearty stew with lots of potatoes, chunks of root vegetables, and chicken simmered in a wine-based sauce until tender, accompanied by warm bread and an apple tart. As filling as the meal was, Charlotte did not find it inspiring. This was the third night this week the stew had been served. The winter rather limited the menu to what was in the storeroom and what the greenhouse could provide. She’d kill for a strawberry or a meal that wasn’t stewed chicken. If she complained, she’d sound spoiled. She highly doubted that the general population of the Aerie got chicken stewed in wine, so she kept her complaints to herself.
“What do I miss about Earth?” Draven crossed off the question. “Nothing. Earth was overcrowded, polluted, hot, and otherwise miserable.”
“You must miss something? Sunsets at a special place? One of those entertainment programs?”
He huffed. “I was too busy for television.”
“So you were miserable on a miserable planet and enjoyed your misery?” she asked, calmly buttering a slice of bread.
“I answered your question. Do not be glib because you don’t like the answer to your impertinent question,” he said in a haughty voice. He stirred the stew with a fork before taking a mouthful.
“Forgive the impertinence of my question,” she said, her tone teasing. “There are things I miss about home. I assumed it was a universal experience.”
“What do you miss?” The haughtiness vanished, replaced with curiosity.
“Several things. My father, for one,” she said without hesitation. “I keep thinking, I must tell Papa this. He’d perish from delight if he ever got his hands on your library. I miss my friends.”
“That is a dull answer. I expect better of you, sweetness.”
“If you find my emotional attachments dull, that says more about you than about me,” she replied.
A slight smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.
“I miss strawberries.” She dipped the bread into the stew. “Vervain’s greenhouse produces the fruit all year long. I know it’s a luxury most don’t have, but I miss it.”
“Your late husband had an impressive library and strawberries. Your standards are extraordinarily high, sweetness,” he said.
