Chapter 4: Venturing

They venture out together a few more times after that. Not everyday, but every few days. Aesind still visits Emrys for dinners, but it seems as though his current suitor visitors are more anxious than ever to make a positive impression. With Reedus gone so abruptly, Aesind's characteristic "picky temper" has reared its head. The two remaining gentlemen left a couple days ago, but a new batch arrived immediately afterwards.

There is an air of urgency in the manor that wasn't there before. Apparently, from what Emrys has heard from the staff, these suitors have been coming up with more and more convoluted reasons to detain Aesind, most of which he can't reasonably turn down. Emrys sees less and less of his host. Canceled dinners and outings, absences from the breakfast table. It shouldn't be such a loss.

The morning after the third missed dinner, Aesind apologizes.

"I'd much prefer to eat with you," he grouses over a cup of steaming, golden tea in a shockingly plain white cup. It's from what Aesind calls his favorite tea set, but Emrys can't tell what's so special about it. "But they're so persistent."

They've settled in one of the many drawing rooms scattered about the manor. This one is wallpapered in pale pink, contrasted by the dark, leather-covered furniture. The rest of the tea set and a few plates of assorted snacks sit atop a wide tray on a low mahogany coffee table. A large, white piano stands in the corner next to a bookcase full of sheet music. Beside it are a handful of cases which likely hold more instruments. The large windows are set with gauzy white curtains and heavy red drapes, all open to allow the sun to illuminate the room brightly. There are a set of glass doors leading out to a balcony, as many of these rooms have, but these are currently shut.

Aesind has draped himself along a chaise lounge beneath an open window, propped up by a mountain of white and pink cushions. Sunlight and a warming spring breeze filter in, bathing him in golden light and teasing his escaping auburn curls to brilliant life. Emrys is looking very respectfully, seated in a comfortable (if squeaky, when he shifts) armchair nearby that conveniently faces the window.

"How much longer are they here?" Emrys asks after a sip of his own tea. It, like everything here, is of superb quality. He's added a dollop of honey collected from bees right here on the property, but it's a light sweetness, not enough to mask the earthy tones of the tea itself.

"Ugh." Aesind groans into a gulp of too-hot liquid, fanning his mouth as he sets the cup and saucer aside. "Too long. They're intent on staying until Archimedes returns."

"Any word on that?"

"Based on his last letter, only another week."

Emrys raises an eyebrow. "I thought you'd be happier about that."

"I am," Aesind says, sighing. "I miss him terribly. But these gentlemen..."

"More failures?"

"More failures, and it's becoming a problem, because they know it." He sets the back of his hand to his forehead as he reclines and gazes out the window. "Just this morning, one of them demanded to know why my hands are scarred. He wanted to ‘inspect the damage' to the goods he was looking to obtain. I think he meant to say it in a respectful way, but holy gods, did he fail."

Irritation lances hot and cold through Emrys's chest. How dare... He's been curious about it himself, but he'd never ask outright like that. Not unless it was appropriate or it was clear that the injury wasn't something terribly traumatic he'd be digging up for his own curiosity' sake. And to imply it's for personal gain is just the rancid topping the entire situation needs. As though a bit of scarring matters. As if Aesind isn't among the most beautiful men in the region.

"What the fuck?" Emrys demands.

"I know. Fucking ridiculous."

Each of them realized, days ago, that they both have sailor's tongues. In a mutual display of swearing black and blue over their frustrations, they agreed to speak more honestly, since they can't around the staff or these "esteemed visitors."

Aesind rubs a knuckle over his brow the way he does before a headache comes on. He says, "I'm tired of it. More than that, I'm worried. These suitors are far bolder than any others we've had so far, as though they've been ordered to throw manners out the window. If they speak to me like this when Archimedes is around..."

"He'll bite their heads off," Emrys concludes.

Frankly, Emrys might bite their heads off.

"With a vengeance," Aesind says around another sigh.

He pauses, thinking, and Emrys lets him. He does this sometimes, withdraws into his mind to put the pieces together before speaking. It gives Emrys a chance to admire the man without being noticed. Plus, he's overheard the alternative -- the frustrated snapping, the stomping away. It's rude to interrupt someone mid-stream; just because Aesind's stream is internal, it doesn't mean it's less worthy of respecting.

Eventually, Aesind surfaces and fixes Emrys with a look he knows well by now.

"What do you want?" Emrys asks, dry but not unkind.

"There's someone I want you to meet."

He blinks. "Who?"

"A friend." Aesind gestures out the window. "Ash is someone Archimedes rescued long before I arrived here. They live out in the gardens."

"We've been out there plenty of times, and I've never seen them."

"They're never seen unless they want to be. Ash has a gift for it." He smiles. "I think you'd get along."

Emrys raises an eyebrow and waits. There's more to it than that, and if he stays silent long enough, Aesind will fidget and blurt it out.

"It's --" Aesind starts, stops, then groans, shoulders dropping. "I don't want you to be lonely or bored, alright? This next week, I'm not going to have any spare time for you, and you still don't know the manor or grounds well enough to not get lost on your own. You shouldn't be cooped up in your room just because I'm not around. I want to ask Ash to keep you company for me."

A warm glow roots in Emrys's chest, one he tries and fails to fight off.

Aesind is just so...

"Ah. Well, in that case, sure."

Aesind perks up. "You mean it?"

The light sparkles off Aesind's emerald irises, turning them even more vibrant than usual. Emrys often finds himself enraptured by them. In the light like this, Emrys can make out a subtle smattering of freckles across Aesind's narrow nose. They're so light as to be nonexistent.

...irresistible.

"Yeah, sure."

They finish their tea. One of the staff comes to clear it away, something Emrys is still getting accustomed to. At home, he and his brothers are responsible for clearing their own dishes. They wash and dry on a rotating schedule. Whoever doesn't do dishes tidies the kitchen, mopping the floors and ensuring everything is back in its proper place. It's only fair, since their mother does all the cooking (often with help from Lynnas, who ends up exempt from cleaning duty for his work). His father used to be part of the rotation, but an old injury to his hip has started acting up in the last few years, and he can't often stand long enough to do the job. It took much bullying, but he eventually relented to his sons' insistence and agreed to simply oversee the kitchen cleanup from the little table by the wall.

One of these days, Aesind is going to find Emrys in the kitchen with a dish rag in his hands. Once his shoulder is out of the brace, he'll be free to do whatever he likes. He itches for more rigorous activity. Daily walks have done wonders for his energy levels, but Emrys is desperate for his bow or even his sword. A knife would do at this point. Perhaps he can ask to have targets set up out in the garden this summer if his shoulder passes the good doctor's inspection. Surely the guards train somewhere. He could even take advantage of their grounds and training dummies, so long as no one minds.

Pummeling something to bits would fix many of Emrys's more pressing issues.

As the pair head outside, Emrys tips his head back to bask in the sun's warm rays. In the last few weeks, the cold spring drizzles have given way to the first hints of heat.

"You're like a flower," Aesind teases. His shoes click on the flagstones.

"Says the man who's constantly wearing rose perfume," Emrys fires back.

Aesind's brows shoot up, and regret filters into Emrys's system.

"I hadn't realized you'd taken note of what I smell like," Aesind says with a sly grin.

Emrys rolls his eyes, trying very hard to not blush. "Hard not to. Do you bathe in it?"

Aesind laughs. "Sort of. It isn't perfume. It's my favorite soap. My best friend sends it to me from the city. Apparently, it's good for curly hair. It helps the texture, makes it very silky. And it smells nice, which is a bonus."

"I see," Emrys says, glancing at Aesind's curls.

They're bound up in a braid as usual, but looser today. The braid itself is wider, and more stray strands curl free, giving it a more rustic look to match his casual, loose attire. It's not the sort of buttoned-up style he puts on for his suitors. Emrys wonders if this is how he prefers to dress and how often he actually gets to be this way.

"You're allowed to compliment me," Aesind whispers sidelong. His eyes are pointed elsewhere, but his smile is wicked. "We're friends. Friends say nice things about each other."

Emrys coughs into his fist and looks away. "I know that. It's -- nice."

"Thanks," Aesind replies. He nudges Emrys's elbow with his own. "Ash's hideout is ahead."

He'd been distracted during their conversation, enough so that he's not entirely sure where they are. It's a section of the garden that's gone a bit more wild. Larger trees, already verdant with spring growth, extend their limbs over the path from both sides, casting cooling shadows despite the bright sun above them. Gone is the neat, defined grid of the gardens Emrys has grown used to. The path meanders, splits, and rejoins itself here, like a forest trail.

"Reminds me of home," Emrys mumbles, admiring the trees and the scent of new growth and sweet florals that this season always brings. It smells of mud and green things and promises of what's to come.

"Do you miss --" Aesind cuts himself off with a chagrined look. "Ah, of course you miss your family. Silly question."

Emrys shrugs his one good shoulder. "I do, but that doesn't mean I'm not enjoying my time here. It's certainly better than being stuck in our town doctor's clinic for months. Or, worse, bedridden at home with my brothers hovering."

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad to have you around." Aesind smiles at him. "It's nice to have someone to talk to when Archimedes isn't here."

Emrys feels his chest grow warm like it always does when Aesind looks at him like that. He casts his eyes to the path ahead, but he can still see Aesind out of the corner of his eye, smiling away.

He's got to get this ridiculous crush out of his head. Archimedes will return in a week, and Aesind won't need his company nearly so much. Getting too attached is a sure path to heartbreak.

"Let's sit for a while," Aesind says, gesturing to a wooden bench up ahead. "Ash has surely heard us or even seen us coming by now. It's just a matter of waiting."

Emrys's brows arch. "Really? I haven't seen or heard anyone nearby." Not even the gardeners, who must not come out this way as often.

"Yes, really. Ash won't be seen unless they want to be." Aesind flops down onto the bench and pats the space next to him. "Come on. They're kind of shy, so don't be surprised if it takes a while."

The wood creaks lightly as Emrys sits at Aesind's left. The bench is smaller than the ones they usually settle onto. He's close enough to Aesind that he could widen his legs just slightly and bump their knees together. Emrys stretches his legs out in front of himself, crossing them at the ankles to refrain from doing just that.

They sit for a while, chatting back and forth idly about nothing. It's gotten easier and easier to do over the last few weeks. Emrys makes a dry remark that makes Aesind laugh aloud. As he lets himself grin, delighted as usual to hear Aesind's honest laugh, he feels a familiar prickle at the back of his neck.

Emrys whirls around, scanning the brush behind the bench.

"What?" Aesind asks, alarmed.

"I thought..." Emrys squints, straining to hear. "I thought I heard something move."

Aesind glances back as well, smiling lightly. He raises his voice and calls, "It's okay, Ash. We can trust him." His gaze darts back to Emrys. "Don't be alarmed."

Emrys's brow creases, but before he can question Aesind, a more overt rustling sound catches his attention. As they both turn to the source of the noise, a small silhouette drifts out from the brush behind a nearby tree. It peers around the trunk, shadowed by a black hood that seems several sizes too large for the small frame.

"Ash, this is Emrys Symmonet," Aesind says, gesturing to Emrys. "Emrys, meet Ash, our resident shadow."

Emrys dips his head respectfully. "Nice to meet you."

The little shadow tips its head to the side. Emrys catches the briefest glimpse of gold beneath the deep hood.

"You've been listening, right?" Aesind prompts.

The hood bobs in a nod.

"And I assume you're already familiar with Emrys from his forays into the gardens," he continues, smirking as Emrys turns an incredulous look on him.

Ash nods again.

"You've been spying on me?" Emrys says, glaring at Ash's half-hidden form.

An arm swathed in fabric comes up to cover what must be Ash's mouth. They shrug one shoulder, clearly laughing.

"It's what Ash does," Aesind says, standing. He sets his hands to his hips. "Now, come on out. You've seen plenty of him, and it's only fair."

Ash hesitates, but they step out further. The first thing Emrys realizes is that Ash hasn't been crouching. They're just short. Child-sized, almost. The second thing Emrys notes is that Ash's feet are bare beneath the cloak's hem. At first glance, he thinks they've gone bloody or badly bruised, but a double-take reveals that Ash's skin is a deep, ruddy red.

"Daemon," Emrys murmurs.

Ash recoils, shrinking back against the tree. Emrys holds his good hand up, showing he isn't armed.

"It's fine," he says before Ash can run away. "I've -- I was just surprised. I didn't expect to see a daemon in a godkin's garden."

"Do you mind, Ash?" Aesind asks. Then, when Ash nods again, he continues, "Archimedes rescued Ash many years ago. Ash was out in the woods, badly injured by some kind of creature. They managed to find the manor's garden wall, climbed over, and passed out." Aesind gestures further into the garden to where it becomes even more wild. "When the gardeners found Ash, Archimedes had Doctor Illala nurse them back to health, not unlike how he has for you. After they healed, they decided to stay." He smiles at the little daemon. "And now, they're our favorite resident shadow."

Ash huffs. It's the only sound Emrys has heard them make so far. They step back out onto the path. From beneath the hood, that same golden glint appears. It looks like Ash has a cloth or scarf tied around their neck, covering their mouth. But those eyes can't be hidden even by the shadow cast by his hood. They gleam bright yellow as Ash scrutinizes Emrys.

Then, from beneath the cloak, Ash produces a black rectangle. It's connected to their belt by a sturdy-looking braid of rope. Attached to it by a string is a stub of white, which Ash takes up. The hand they use is the same deep red as his feet. The nails are dark, nearly black against the skin. They write for a moment on the slate before turning it for Emrys and Aesind to see.

"Nice to meet you officially," Ash has written in neat, even letters.

Emrys's brows arch. "Same to you."

Ash wipes at the board with a sleeve already smeared with white. They write again and turn it once more.

"Sorry for spying."

"It's fine," Emrys says slowly. He glances around the wild garden, drinking in the details and considering what Aesind said. "I assume you don't do it for no reason. Being... you know." When he redirects his gaze to the little daemon, he offers a half-smile. "Have I passed your tests?"

Ash's brows arch beneath the hood. They glance at Aesind, who hides a snicker poorly behind slim fingers.

Even behind the scarf, Ash is clearly amused as they write, "So far. You're kind of an asshole."

"Aw, but I like that about him, Ash," Aesind says, laughing outright.

The look Ash gives him is a flat, sarcastic stare. Emrys can just about hear the tone that accompanies the words "Because you match" as they're written out in white chalk. He guffaws at the same time Aesind squawks at the insult. Aesind swats his uninjured arm.

"You are an asshole," Aesind complains, but his smile gives him away.

"And apparently you like that."

"Ha, you wish."

"You're the one who said it!"

"And you're the one who looked so happy about it."

"So you do like it, then."

Ash watches them trade playful barbs with wide yellow eyes. Self-conscious under the wordless scrutiny, Emrys collects himself. Aesind sticks his tongue out at them both.

"Great," the magician grouses, crossing his arms. "You've already got common ground in your penchant for picking on me."

"You make it too easy," Emrys teases lightly at the same time Ash raises their chalk. When Ash lowers it with an amused gleam in their yellow eyes, Emrys laughs. "I do think we'll get along just fine, though."

There's a brief pause, then Ash begins to nod slowly. They look at Aesind, who sobers rather suddenly. They stare at each other for a long moment. Then, Ash nods once deliberately, and Aesind's shoulders drop on a relieved sigh. His smile returns as he looks back to Emrys.

"I leave you in Ash's capable hands for the next week," Aesind says. "Anytime you want to head out into the gardens or explore the manor, simply wait somewhere conspicuous outside. It may take some time, but they'll come out to meet you."

Emrys raises an eyebrow. He addresses Ash. "Or, perhaps we set a schedule. Why not meet at the fountain after breakfast, and we can decide what we'd like to do?"

Ash blinks. A crinkling appears at the corners of their eyes. They write, "That works for me. Nine o'clock?"

"Nine it is."

"Do you like to read?"

"Not particularly."

"Chess?"

Emrys perks up. "Yes, actually. I'm fairly good at it."

The lines around Ash's eyes deepen as an invisible grin grows beneath the scarf. The chalk scrapes along the board. "Good. I often play Arch, but it would be nice to play against a new opponent."

"Ugh," Aesind groans, rolling his eyes. "Another chess player. Give me poker over chess any day."

"I'll kick your ass at poker anytime you like," Emrys offers with a wide grin. "I'm champion amongst my brothers, I'll have you know."

Aesind flutters his eyelashes at Emrys. "I don't know. I can be very charming."

Gods, does he know it. Emrys's heart gives a great thud.

"I know your tricks by now," he manages to say without stammering over the words. "You can't fool me."

Ash taps at the corner of their board to draw attention to the new words written there: "Don't underestimate Aesind. He can run statistical equations in his mind while speaking."

"What?" Emrys exclaims, giving Aesind an incredulous look. "At the same time?"

Aesind laughs, "I am a magician, Emrys. My training includes a significant amount of multi-tasking and mathematical proficiency."

Of course. It does make sense, in hindsight. It's easy to forget with how casual and easygoing Aesind is with Emrys.

Magic takes an extraordinary amount of study, practice, focus, and personal power. To be deemed a magician in an official capacity is a feat few ever achieve. Even those who work at it for decades may never produce so much as a spark. The level of accuracy required for even the simplest spells and rituals denotes a competence and ability beyond what Emrys has been acknowledging in the pretty man he now calls his friend.

"Right," Emrys murmurs, drinking in the bemused expression on Aesind's face. He clears his throat. "Right. Well, I'll have my work cut out for me, I suppose."

"Oh, yes," Aesind replies, still grinning. "I'd planned on heading to the library to enjoy my final day of freedom before this next bevy of suitors steal every scrap of time I've got. Would you both like to accompany me?" He gives Ash a dry look. "I can have the staff dig out one of the chess sets, if you want."

Ash's yellow stare pierces through Emrys to the core. The smiling lines are gone. All that remains is an alertness that pins Emrys to the spot.

"That sounds like fun," Ash writes. "I hope you are ready to lose."

Emrys snorts. "We'll see how confident you are after a match or two."