Chapter 10: Observations

The more Archimedes watches Aesind and Emrys interact, the less he worries.

It isn't that Aesind has poor taste. No, on the contrary, he's an excellent judge of character. Where Archimedes is constantly vigilant, expecting the worst from strangers who want something from him, Aesind has a confidence and awareness that needs no particular effort or focus. Where Archimedes keeps constant watch on his behaviors to keep himself in line, Aesind has a natural ability to flow in social situations.

Archimedes envies his mate. His gregarious nature makes him friends wherever he goes. He loves parties and conversation and outings and events. Aesind is a social creature, through and through.

When they first started courting, Archimedes worried about keeping Aesind caged. He admitted his fears that Aesind would tire of the manor and of Archimedes's quiet, awkward company. That he would require Archimedes to change things about himself that he doesn't wish to change.

Aesind's response was that Archimedes was a fool to assume such a thing. Because, of course, Aesind would tell Archimedes his discomforts and his needs so they could make compromises. Because, of course, that's what you do in a relationship. Give and take, push and pull.

It was the first time anyone had said such a thing to Archimedes. It took a long time to get used to it. He still worries sometimes that all of this has been a lie, that no one could tolerate him like this forever.

It's what leads him to say to Emrys one morning, "I apologize for Aesind's absence. I realize my company isn't much company at all."

Aesind bounded off around an hour ago to attend to his personal correspondence before starting work on preparations for the upcoming garden party Archimedes is hosting. He left Emrys and Archimedes in the sitting area at the front of the library, each with their respective activities. Emrys has been sketching idly in a leather-bound sketchbook Aesind unearthed for him a few days ago. Meanwhile, Archimedes sits in the chair opposite him with his estate ledgers open on his lap and more papers strewn on the table between them.

It's been quiet. They've traded a few words here and there, but otherwise, the library is perfectly silent except for the rustling of pages and the scratch of pens and pencils.

Archimedes has been getting more and more antsy. He's kept his fidgeting to a minimum, he thinks, but it's difficult.

Surely Emrys is bored. Without Aesind around to break the silence between them and provide a bit of levity with his chatter, it must be dreadfully dull just sitting here.

So, Archimedes says, "I apologize for Aesind's absence. I realize my company isn't much company at all."

Emrys's head whips up out of the corner of Archimedes's eye. "What?"

"It must be boring," Archimedes says, rolling his quill pen between his ink-stained fingers. The rows of numbers are starting to make his eyes hurt; he should've brought his glasses from his desk. "Sitting here, I mean. Doing nothing."

Aesind's compliments of Emrys's character have been constant. He's a good listener, a sharp wit, a fair conversationalist. Emrys is a social creature like Aesind. He likes activity, engagement. Sitting in a silent library with a silent man is hardly anyone's definition of a good time.

"If you would like to spend time with Ash out in the gardens, you're more than welcome to do so," Archimedes continues without looking up at Emrys. He's tempted to spin his pen over his thumb, but he knows it would spray ink everywhere. He settles for pinching the smooth, skin-warmed wood tightly. "You don't need to sit here with me if you don't want."

There's a long silence. Nerves twist tighter and tighter in Archimedes's stomach the longer it goes on. Ice trickles down his spine.

Why would he say that? Why bring it up? It's just inviting trouble. Opening up for criticism and admissions that he's not worth spending time with.

"Do you..." Emrys hesitates, and Archimedes hears him clear his throat. "Do you want me to leave?"

Archimedes finally glances up. Emrys's brow creases deeply as he frowns at Archimedes. He looks...

It parses as anger first. Then, Emrys's lips twitch, and his brows tip upwards, and Archimedes realizes it's concern. Concern and something else suspiciously like self-consciousness, or maybe nervousness.

"No," Archimedes answers honestly. "But I -- I realize I'm not the best company without Aesind's presence."

"Why do you think that?" Emrys asks incredulously. "Have I... I mean, did I do something?"

"No, no, you're -- you're fine. I enjoy... this. I simply..." Archimedes falters as Emrys's expression morphs into confusion.

It's as though all of his thoughts are right at the surface, displaying clearly on his face as they form, and Archimedes doesn't know what to do with that. Even Aesind is often closed off, his thoughts private and his emotions guarded until he's ready to share them. Aesind has said that Emrys is very honest.

Is this really what he meant?

"I don't know what the problem is, then," Emrys says. "I'm fine. I like the quiet."

"But you -- you do also enjoy... noise." Archimedes feels heat crawl around his ears even as more ice water creeps through his bones. "Don't you?"

Emrys sets his pencil down in the crease of his sketchbook. He places his full attention on Archimedes, serious as anything. He says, "Am I not allowed to enjoy both?"

Archimedes doesn't know what to say to that. So, he says nothing. He drops his gaze to the paper-laden table. So much work to do. He's still so far behind...

"Hey. Archimedes."

He steals another glance upwards and finds his breath caught in his throat.

Emrys's smile is a small, reassuring thing. He leans forward in his chair, lowering his voice to an earnest murmur. "If I wanted to go, I would. I'm not the type of guy to do stuff I don't want to do or hang out with people I don't want to hang out with. This is where I want to be. The minute that changes, I'll say so. Alright?"

Archimedes's mouth goes dry.

Has he really gotten so easy to read?

He nods, holding Emrys's warm eyes carefully. "Alright."

"Alright, then."

Emrys leans back in his chair, sets one ankle atop the opposite knee, and takes his pencil up again. Archimedes watches him sketch for a moment, waiting.

Waiting for the inevitable change of heart.

As though feeling Archimedes's eyes on him, Emrys smiles again without looking up from his sketch, this time teasingly. He mutters, "Don't you have work to be doing?"

"Yes," Archimedes replies quickly, returning his attention to the papers in front of him. "Yes, of course. Right."

And so they sit in relative silence. Emrys gets up once to use the toilet, but he returns right after.

They're still sitting there by lunchtime when Aesind comes to collect them, teasing them about being so quiet. Emrys rolls his eyes and says he's been enjoying the peace without Aesind's constant chattering. He tosses a smile Archimedes's way at that, and Archimedes returns it with what he hopes is gratitude without the anxiety that goes with it.

Emrys is just so different when they're together. Surely it's a sign of putting on an act.

Archimedes keeps it to himself. He can see Aesind's affection growing by the day, blatant in the way he teases Emrys and seeks his opinions and shares his honest thoughts without hesitation. If nothing else, they make very good friends.

"I'm just not sure, Ash," Archimedes says softly to his little friend that same night.

It's nearing midnight, but he feels wide awake. Ordinarily, he would be in his hidden library nook or his first-floor office or his workshop at this time. Each full moon, though, Archimedes makes a point of going out to the gardens to bask in the moon's light with Ash. It's been a tradition since Archimedes found them half-dead on the outskirts of the manor's grounds.

"About what?" Ash writes. They shift their hood back further, revealing their entire ruddy face. The small nubs at the top of their forehead are as black as their unruly hair.

"Everything." Archimedes rubs his forehead with a tired sigh. "It's been a year, and we're no closer to finding a permanent solution to the ghoul issues. Or to finding the root of it all. And the suitors..." He sighs again, harder. "They just get worse and worse. I don't know what to do about it."

Ash's chalk scrapes quietly across the slate. They turn it so Archimedes can see, and its message makes him huff with half of a laugh: "So stop letting them come here. You do not have to do what you do not want to."

"If I were to stop accepting them, you know what would happen," Archimedes replies, pinching at the reddened web of skin between his thumb and forefinger. "What he would do."

Ash frowns. They erase their words and consider their next ones with care. They write, "We do not know for sure. Assumptions are not always truth."

"You don't know him like I do. You don't know what he's willing to do." Archimedes pinches the skin harder. "What he's already done."

Ash touches the back of Archimedes's hand gently. They push so that Archimedes lets go of the sore, raw skin. They regard Archimedes seriously for a moment, then write a new message out slowly.

"Do you think E is connected?"

Archimedes shakes his head vehemently. "No. He would never ally with someone like Emrys. Nor would Emrys tolerate someone like him. Emrys is too honest for it, his family too involved in the populace."

"You seem very certain."

"I am."

Chalk taps on slate as Ash thinks. They rub away their words with a white-smeared sleeve. They replace them with: "Plan?"

Archimedes sighs. "I still would like you to stay close during the garden party next week. Listen when you can, and report anything of note."

"The usual, then," Ash writes. "And E?"

"I don't believe you need to be on alert with him."

"I mean your plan."

"My plan?"

Ash gives him a dry look. The clicks as they write are pointed. "For E. Aes likes him. What is your plan?"

"I'm aware Aesind likes him," Archimedes replies, looking off into the distance.

The garden is dark around them, but small lights powered by underground circuits have been staked into the ground here and there. This far out in Ash's wild portion of the garden, they're not entirely necessary. Ash can see perfectly in the dark, and Archimedes's eyesight is better than a human's (at a distance; up close, his eyes strain). Archimedes scans the shadowed greenery all around them.

Aesind certainly does like Emrys, and for all the right reasons. His courtesy goes beyond the necessary gratitude and required good manners of a guest. Based on what Aesind has said about his correspondence with Emrys's mother, it's no surprise. Even without a lordly title, she writes with a graceful authority, as Aesind has put it. Apparently, it's something about her handwriting.

Emrys could go home at any time. That would devastate Aesind. They could keep up a correspondence, and it would hardly be the last time they'd ever see each other. Emrys doesn't seem like the type of person to abandon his friends.

But Aesind would be terribly sad to lose his companion. Archimedes knows that his absences, so frequent and extended recently, are hard on his mate. Aesind thrives in company. He requires his peace and quiet at the end of the day, and he enjoys retreating from socializing altogether on occasion, but if he goes too long without good conversation, he loses himself somewhat. Most of the suitors they've hosted lately are no good.

The only visitor who's provided any sort of notable conversation and company has been Emrys. So of course, Aesind would latch onto him. It makes perfect sense.

Plus, with Emrys's good looks and winning personality, it's no wonder Aesind hasn't lost interest. Archimedes has watched Aesind grow more and more attached to their healing guest by the day.

Emrys's shoulder is very much out of danger. He has a regimen of exercises to complete every day and more intense ones he does with Doctor Illala once per week. He's healed and grown stronger in record time thanks to Illala's good work.

And yet, he's shown no sign of leaving. Archimedes hasn't asked about it, just in case Emrys takes it the wrong way and vacates the manor before he's really ready. It would hurt Aesind very badly if Archimedes were the cause of Emrys's absence. Archimedes can't do that to him.

So Emrys stays, and Aesind grows more attached. It's only been a few months, and they're already so close. That's Aesind's way, though, when he decides he likes someone.

"Could he be?" he hears Aesind's question echo back again. Could Emrys be a suitor? Could he really be considered as a serious option?

Archimedes isn't sure. Their lessons have gone well enough. Emrys is a master swordsman. Even injured and using his alternate hand, he moves fluidly as though his sword is an extension of himself. It's an admirable grace Archimedes could never replicate.

Aesind enjoys watching the lessons, too. He says he's observing to ensure they don't get carried away, but Archimedes sees clearly the way Aesind's eyes follow Emrys's every move. The rippling of his muscles beneath his short-sleeved shirt, the powerful thrust of his sword, the sweat that glitters along his brow with the effort of it all. Aesind misses none of it.

But he sees, too, the nerves. Aesind's worry that taking another step will be disaster in one way or another. It wouldn't be the first time someone let Aesind down.

"I have told Aesind that I won't dismiss his interest outright," Archimedes says eventually, breaking the long silence. "But I need to focus my efforts elsewhere. This party has to serve more purpose than simple conversation. I must gain more support, more resources, more assistance."

Ash's bright yellow gaze is sharp and knowing.

"And the ghoul attacks -- I cannot be distracted from defending my people."

One thick brow arches.

Archimedes sighs. He rubs his thumb in the space between his eyes. "The suitors... they are necessarily low on my list of tasks."

Ash taps out a short message. "E is not a suitor."

"I realize. I'm doing what I must to make him comfortable as my guest."

Ash rolls their eyes. They erase their words and write, "He is not like them. No agenda, no motive. No influence."

Archimedes frowns. "You're defending him quite strongly for a man you barely know."

"Good judge of character," Ash writes. "You know that. He is good people." They pause, then add, "Giving him thought would not be a bad choice. I do not want you to miss a chance at happiness." They smile. "Like with Aes."

Archimedes tears his eyes away from the words with difficulty.

Like with Aesind. If Ash hadn't insisted all those years ago, Archimedes may never have allowed Aesind to earn his trust. And if he hadn't let Aesind in, he would never have earned the life they have together now.

"I'm not dismissing him," Archimedes whispers, hands threading together and giving a gentle twist. "I just -- I'm not sure, Ash. It's different. You know it is."

Ash's warm little hand lands on his forearm. They give him a reassuring smile and show him the words they've already written down: "No rush."

"No rush," he repeats. He nods, breathing the words in. "No rush."

He has time.

"Party first," Archimedes declares, sitting upright. "Hopefully, I'll be able to coordinate a larger meeting with the other godkin around us. Then, I can focus on... on other things."