For those of you who don’t know, this is part of my Tale Weaving series. The basic idea is to show a bit of my style, characters, and worlds. That way you can see if you like my writing before actually buying something I create. 🙂
In my writing I want to approach difficult subjects I’ve experienced. Feelings and emotions I’ve shared. Worlds I haven’t even begun to explore. Will you come along with me?
Good. I give you . . . . . Smallest Moments
*Side Note* – You may notice that people use the Christian name’s of others. This story is not set in the Renaissance times. It merely borrows some of the cultural etiquette and kingdom set up. 🙂
The roses at this time of year were absuoltely gorgeous. From the deepest scarlet to the purest white. Every bush was healthy and vibrant. Her Master wouldn’t allow them to be anything but. They always stole her breath, and reminded her how to hope.
She sighed, brushing a stray hair behind her ear, then continued inspecting the rows. If only more people were interested in buying flowers, then maybe she could afford to garden for fun. Maybe her dream would come true.
“Your name’s Roquian, correct?”
The baritone voice caused her to jerk around, skirts flailing. She detested being caught alone by anyone, and however hard she tried to avoid it, people always seemed to find her. Glancing up she met the gaze of a mysteriously familiar man.
He was tall, much taller than her with blonde hair and fair skin. A twinkling smile lit his features, highlighting his dimples. He laughed at her scrutiny, reminding Roquian where she’d seen him before. At the town festival four nights ago. He had asked her to dance, and she’d refused. It was awkward dancing with strangers, and she had never seen him around before.
“Who’s asking?” she replied quietly, heat rising in her face. Her heart thudded heavily with each second that passed.
He bowed, responding with a grin that both relaxed and embarrassed her. “I am called Matthias.”
She gathered her skirts, then curtsied. “Roquian.” Her name slipped out of her mouth with a nervous squeak. She had never been introduced to a man without someone else present.
His eyes sparkled, a broad smile spreading over his face. “I wondered if you’d do me the favor of accompanying me to the Moonlight celebration tomorrow evening?”
Her cheeks flushed a bright red, accenting her hair, and she instinctively brushed some behind her ear. A young man had never invited her to go dancing before. The idea was both exciting and unnerving. “I . . . I am flattered by your invitation, however I regret that I am busy tomorrow evening.” she cleared her throat, unable to meet his gaze. She wasn’t actually busy tomorrow evening, but her fear outweighed her interest.
“I see. . .well perhaps another time then.” he bowed low, deep eyes dancing with mischief. “Good day, Miss Roquian.
“Good day, sir.” She didn’t know what to feel. Flattered? Fearful? Awkward? She didn’t know this man, so why should he be interested in her?
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
“Roquian, the door is for you!”
Her sister’s voice rang clearly through the quaint cabin as Roquian scurried to finish plaiting her hair. It’s probably the Master come to speak with me about planting new rows. He did promise to drop by yesterday. Whisking a mini silver rose necklace off the table top she clasped it around her neck, memories of her mother flashing through her mind. “Coming, Aquinette!”
Her worn blue dress accented her eyes, helping her shove the self-consciouness away. No one notices me anyway. What am I so afraid of? Aquinette met her as she was coming out of the mirror room. Her sister looked tired. “Did you enjoy yourself at the Moonlight celebration last eve, Nette?”
Aquinette smiled shyly, “I did. Sir Ramond is ever so attentive.” Her sister’s eyes went from excited to curious. “Who’s that outside?”
Roquian frowned, suddenly nervous. “Wasn’t it Master Dublin?”
Her sister raised an eyebrow. “It’s a young man, Ro. Who have you been seeing recently?”
“No one.” Her mouth tightened. “Where’s father?”
They moved toward the front of the house, as anxiety settled within Roquian’s gut. “He’s visiting the smithy. Old Buzzard threw a shoe yesterday.”
“What did he look like, Nette?”
Her sister thought a minute. “Young, handsome, and very tall.”
Roquian sighed, “Give me a minute.” Then she pulled open the heavy door and stepped out onto the porch. Matthias waited for her, leaning up against a support beam for the overhanging roof.
He smiled, strolling over. “Good morning, Miss Roquian.”
A halfhearted smile flew across her face as she curtsied. “Good morning, sir.”
She waited for him to state his business with her. “I was wondering if you’d consent to being my partner at an upcoming party my mother is hosting later this week?”
Her heart hiccuped. He wanted her to what? She didn’t even know him! A flare of red highlighted her cheeks. Why was he so interested in her? “I wonder at your intentions, sir?”
His smile grew. “Oh, I’m sure you will discover them shortly.”
She tried to brush hair behind her ear, but there was none. It was all plaited together. Her face reddened. “I don’t know you, sir . . .” she hesitated. Anxiety doubled within as she shook her head. “I feel it would be wrong to accompany you.”
His brows rose. “Well then, how else to you propose getting to know a person?”
Her eyes darted to his. “I . . .” she blanked. He was trying to become friends with her? “Perhaps you could speak with my father about these things.”
“I rather like speaking to you about them.”
She swallowed nervously, “You may join us for the evening meal in three nights time if you wish.”
His smile widened, “I do wish.” He bowed, then departed.
She whisked back indoors, heart thumping widely. Her emotions were suddenly more then she could handle. “Nette.” she whispered, too dazed to meet her sister’s eyes.
Aquinette’s lips twisted into a sweet smile. “I think he’s trying to court you, Ro.”
To Be Continued . . .
I hope you were able to feel something.
I hope you were entertained.
Stay safe in this troubled season friends,