Niviene Larethian

Love is in the Air

Niviene glanced around the room one last time, making sure that everything was in place.  The entire house was bathed in the warm glow of candlelight and shadow, giving it an air of mystery and promise. The silence was almost deafening and she gave a small sigh of relief when the cicadas began to sing just beyond the window.

She glanced at her reflection in the darkened window, startled and then a little embarrassed. Her sky blue gaze drifted down to the dress she wore, her cheeks flaming at the amount of exposed skin and the thin lacings of the bodice. Not for the first time she wondered why she had allowed Venibeth to talk her into wearing such garments… again; reminding herself that it had been a condition of the mage watching the children for the night. Or so Veni had said with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

The clock gave its hourly chime and, as if on que, the priestess heard his footsteps on the porch. One last glance at the table to insure that everything was in place, the candles flickering over a meal of his favorite foods. She turned to pour a glass of his favorite whiskey and moved to stand by the door.

As she waited for him to approach, Niviene worried that the path of petals and leaves she left from the front door to the bedroom might not be visible in the dim light. She worried that he might not think to follow them and go in search of food instead. She worried that he might laugh at her efforts or tease her for being overly romantic.

Braghaman had been away for so long it seemed, always going off to battle to defend the freedom of the people. She didn’t resent him, she understood that it was a part of who he was and if he had not she might not have loved him so much. But she had been on her own for so long, tending the school, tending the house, tending the town. She had succeeded without him, as he had done without her. And now he was home, home for good he said.

She glanced down at the glass, it seemed to be taking him forever to come in the house and her nerves were close to snapping. Quickly she downed the whiskey and refilled the glass. She set it down and smoothed her honey blonde tresses, adjusting the bodice of her dress.

Would he still find her attractive? Was she still his angel? She’d spent so much time being a normal, everyday person. What if she wasn’t exotic enough for him? What if he grew bored of how ordinary she had become? She had no adventures to relate to him. Certain that he wouldn’t care to hear about splinting sprained ankles, and delivering babies, or treating colic, she was convinced he would find her attempts at romance comical at best.  

She turned to blow the candles out, ready to scrap the whole plan when the door opened and he stood there looking at her, his blue eyes smoldering as he took her in, “Hey angel, is that for me?” he asked.