Birdie

Two days pass with little happening around me. Though Anastas promised he would instruct me on how to defend myself and train, we have put it off for a few days so he can finish up a bit of his bigger work loads so we can have more time together. Edwin stays within the confines of his work place, as does Pierre in his desperate attempts to shut me out. Therefore I am once again limited to only one true friend and confidant in the entire manor.

I sigh halfheartedly and lay my head gently against Tinsley's cool shoulder. Her delicate fingers have already found their way to my hair, each pulling a tiny, gentle path through its length. The process is soothing, if not lulling.

"I just do not understand him," I start once more, staring blanket at the wall of my room. I had started to tell her a few times by now but had gotten frustrated before even getting started and gave up. This time, however, I promise myself I won't. "How can he be so cruel to me?"

"I do not think he intends it-"

"Of course he does," I cut her off in hasty whine. My teeth chatter and I take a moment to gather myself again. "He is deliberately avoiding me at any chance he gets. At school, he refuses to look at me. We take the carriage home rather than walking like we used to. When we're here at the manor, he locks himself away with Uncle Edwin."

"I still don't think he means to hurt you. Even if he is avoiding you, I am positive that it is not his intention to make you feel this way," she says with a level, soothing voice. Her fingers continue to weave their path in my hair, each finger finding its own way. I find myself closing my eyes and relishing in the fact that I have such a caring friend to turn to.

"How can you be so sure?" I ask quietly while sitting up on the bed. We had been sitting up against the headboard, my head on her shoulder, but now the position is changed. We sit side by side, shoulders pressed close together.

She simply shrugs. "I see the way you two are when you are together. His hand trembles in yours, ever so lightly, like he's nervous. He often looks down at you, admiring you greatly. He truly does favor you, I promise."

"Thank you, Tinsley," I smile at her and dry my eyes. I hadn't been crying but I wipe them anyway. I cock my head, a grateful look placed upon my face. "I'm sorry I'm such a needy friend."

"You aren't," she assures me, a cool hand on my arm. "You can come to me with anything."

I grin, grateful to have her here. I may not speak to her as much as I should during the days but even through that, she'd help me with my problems. She would stop everything to help me and I would gladly do the same for her. Back home I never had a friend like this and it brings tears to my eyes to have found such a dear companion now. "I know."

"Well," she starts softly, shifting and standing up. She nods with a smile, a feeble goodbye. "I must get back to work."

I shake my head before she goes. She stops to listen to me. "You can always talk to me as well, all right?"

The smile that lights up her face is near infectious and in a second's time, I am beaming back to her. She cannot conjure an answer, but her grin is just enough to compensate. She scurries off to finish her duties and I am left to my own devices. I sit blankly for a few moments just to hash out within myself how I truly feel. I try to force every emotion I have about anything to make itself present. Though there are many things I should be feeling- grief for my parents, sorry for Uncle Edwin and his insanity, happy to have great friends- everything falls back on Pierre.

I am not the type of lady to get high strung over a person, let alone a boy. In Ellmis, the boys had never been in my sights for romance, so I lack experience in matters of the heart. I can handle the grief and the memories of my parents. I can keep ahold of my happiness here, I can feel practical and healthy about it. However, feeling this preoccupied makes me feel girly and cliché and I do not like it one bit. But the more I try to push the predicament out of my thoughts, the more anxious I become. Why is he ignoring me? Why must he hurt me so, especially when I had just started to gather true feelings for him?

A new thought pops into my head and I regret it instantly; Why not ask him? It will not only provide with me some sense of satisfaction to know where we stand but it might as reveal his motives for treating me this way. And if he chooses to answer, I will either continue to get the cold shoulder or perhaps he'll quit acting like a stubborn child.

Hasty determination drives me from my bed and through the manner, checking all the possible places for Pierre. Oddly enough, the workshop is empty, so I suspect Uncle Edwin is sleeping. I scan the kitchen, foyer, his bedroom that I have now discovered is on the third floor as well, but eventually come across him in the library. He sits in a cushioned chair near the left corner of the library. I try to walk over to him slowly and keep my face clear of emotion, but footsteps sound like thunders and my eyes are watering.

He notices my presence but does nothing at first. However, when I get closer he marks his page with a ribbon, closes it and sets it down on the end table next to him. He looks much more relaxed in his clothes today- just a simple white undershirt that is two buttons undone at the top, freeing a glistening area of his chest. His trousers are loose and he is barefoot. His eyes meet mine but his show discontent. He says nothing.

That is the difference between the two of us, I can see that much; he can chose not to say anything, even if he wanted to, and there is no way I can hold my tongue over something that displeases me. I breathe in deep and clench my fingers into my palms. Pierre may be playing games with me but I wasn't going to do that to him.

"Why?" I ask, getting straight to the point. I have crossed most of the distance by now, standing only a feet from the chair. My hair is hanging in messy tangles and I'm positive that dried streaks run down my cheeks. However, I will not let that stop me or embarrass me. I want my answers. I deserve them, don't I?

"What are you talking about, Skye?"

I roll my eyes. He keeps a straight face, eyes focused on my face but not my eyes. "You know exactly what," I tell him harshly, putting my hands in front of me and making frustrated hand motions. "Why are you avoiding me, Pierre?"

"I don't know what you're-"

"You do," I say. His voice had trailed off as soon as I opened my mouth. I shake my head sullenly. "You can play your games with whoever you want, you can avoid me, I do not care- but you cannot act so stupid." I let out a large huff of breath. "Tell me why you are being this way."

"Skye, you have to," Pierre starts thoughtfully but his voice shrinks away and he looks down. He blinks hard. "I just..."

"That's not an answer," I say defiantly and put my hands on my hips, lips pursed. It isn't so much that I am angry, but rather worried. I hadn't realized how worried I would be to know his answer. I had guessed that perhaps any number of things about his personality or something of that nature is the reason, but why had I never considered that it is my fault he is ignoring me. I cannot think of anything I had done or said, but could I have? Maybe he's just grown weary of me already... Or maybe it is because I am so rash and bold-headed and speak my mind, such as I am doing now?

"Why do you need an answer?" His face contorts into that of a rage filled expression, and yet he still doesn't look up. Whether it is because he doesn't want to see me or he wants to spare me the full effect of his anger, I am grateful. I gulp as he continues. "My actions are of my own accord, are they not? Why do they need an explanation?"

"Because they," I sniffle, trying to hold back a tear and am successful. "You are hurting me when you're giving me the cold shoulder!"

"You know what?" He asks with a laugh. The laugh is colder than his skin and is more of a snarl. He stands quickly and crosses the room in six swift bounds, calling back to me, "Just leave me alone."

The door to the library came to a slams shut in a thunderous manner that makes me jump slightly. It isn't until the faery's light footsteps have pattered down past the third floor that I let the tears escape from my eyes. They fall slowly at first and then suddenly all at once. I clutch at the chair in front of me and pull myself into it, my back against the arm rest and my head against the chair's back. I hike my knees up to my chest and pull my dress down to cover them. That's when my emotions break lose.

I am not only crying at this point but sobbing, a wretched sound clawing its way out of my throat. My chest heaves and I feel as if my heart has been shattered. I shouldn't care at all, but I do. He hadn't been courting me, sure, and we certainly had no intent at romance at this point, so why should I care? I was merely losing a friend. Maybe that is what hurts most. He wishes me to ignore him, go on as he doesn't exist? That should be easy, right?

It should be, but you care too much, I remind myself. I sigh and let my heart break, let the metaphorical pieces fall to a pit in my stomach. More tears fall and I am gasping for air. I am red faced and a mess. I know I should at least retire to my room to cry in private but I am much too miserable to move. Instead I just tuck my face into my knees, continue crying, and keep hoping that no one comes to see the blubbering mess I have become.



Anastas rouses me from my slumber, shaking away flashes of a white piano, wings, and crying eyes. I yawn and sit up straight, staring blankly at the faery man kneeling in front of me. I blink hard just to make sure I'm not dreaming. When I finally am fully awake I smile. I must have cried myself to sleep.

"Well, good morning, Miss," he chuckles. I offer a small grin in return, though my heart still aches- both figuratively and literally. My chest burns from all the crying and I find that my eyes sting as well. I pull on a happy as best I can but he sees the dried tear streaks and raises a thumb to wipe them away. I pull away from him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

There is so much I would like to say, but nothing I can turn into words at the moment. I simply shake my head.

"Then I shall not ask, yes?" I smile at him and nod again.

I stretch my arms and stifle a rising yawn. I laugh slightly. "How long have I been asleep, Anastas?"

"It is just after dark," he states. "You have missed dinner."

I simply shrug. I wouldn't have gone to dinner even if I had been awake and compliant. Pierre would have been there I would not have wished to deal with him after our argument. I silently curse myself. I shouldn't have been so rash. I should have waited out his evasion, or asked in a much more civil way. Although, I have a sneaking suspicion that he would have gone off on me like that anyway.

"I came to find you," the faery changes the topic nonchalantly, his accent seeming much lighter today. I cork an eyebrow and look at him expectantly. "I have some time this evening, and I am sure you do as well, and I felt as if we could begin training tonight. However, if you are much too exhausted we don't-"

"I'm not," I interrupt defiantly, trying to sound strong and determined. "Exhausted, I mean. I am ready to begin training, if you are."

He holds out his hand to me and I take it. He pulls me from the chair and says, "I am." He then starts out of the library with me trailing after him. I follow him out of the house and to an area near the horses stables which is off to the right side of the manor. I have only ventured here a few times before but lack of interest has driven me from the tiny area. We duck in between the two stables and slip into a rather large annex on the stables. Once inside, I let my eyes wander in awe.

Anastas has taken the time to thoroughly prepare this place for our training. There are rather large sacks of flower hanging from the rafters and dummies crafted of wood stand in rows against the walls. Candles illuminate the room, the light reflecting off of silver shields hung upon the walls. There are coachman's gloves and suits of armor that range anywhere from full body to essential plating sets- breast plates, shin and thigh armor, shoulder pads, and so on. Unfortunately, there is a distinct lack of weaponry but I keep that thought to myself.

"This must have taken a lot of work," I whisper as he comes to stand next to me. My cheek ends up against his shoulder and I lean on him for a moment. "I am more than grateful, I promise I'll be a good student."

He merely laughs in response. It's a low rumbling chuckle that sounds from his belly and is both light hearted and genuine. Strands of shaggy pink hair fall in his eyes and brushes them away quickly. "I had most of this equipment in my quarters with the other servants, hidden away of course. I had to bring it all here in small doses. We should be fine here. The other servants tend to go only where directed. We will not be disturbed."

"That is good, I suppose." I can't stop staring at the equipment. It's all so clean and professional, there is no way he could have hand crafted it, much less pay for it. "Where did you find all this?"

"It is mine," he says but something catches in his voice. He clears him throat slightly and I look down solemnly. "Before I worked here," he continues, "I was a palace guard in the Fey Kingdom. In fact, as coincidence would have it, I was Master Stillson's mother's personal guard."

I drink in the information with interest and try not to giggle at the irony. Though I had no idea why he left being a palace guard and traded it in for servant work, the very spawn of his old charge is now his master. It is funny in the cosmic, sad sort of way. "Why did you leave the guard?"

"We had nothing left to guard," he admits sadly. "No one to protect from humans, from magic. Life may not be peaceful everyday, but nothing is threatening the order of the world. It was dull and I needed something new, so I left."

"To this? Being ordered around- even more so than you were before?"

He simply shrugs, an amused shine within his all white irises. "There is nothing for me to fight or to slay, and quite interestingly enough, my interest peaks in botany as well as swordsmanship." I think of his garden out in the backyard and the beautifully altered flowers and I smile. Another case of irony has risen; and it is Anastas himself. Leaving the guard, only to be in the control of his old master's child. Leaving the guard for a more exciting life in servitude. Not only that, but he is a strikingly fierce being, a warrior to the bone if my instincts are right, who is skilled in growing something much gentler than himself.

"Well, whatever it is, whatever keeps you here... I'm just glad you're here."

I only catch the smile on his lips for an instant for it is gone in a flash, thought his gratitude lasts within his gaze. He snorts, "Enough of being sentimental. Are you ready to begin your training, student?"

"I am."