Marigold laughed, as Finn arrived behind them.
“I don’t think anything could have caught me just now,” she said. “It’s your land–I love it here. So wide open, yet full of complex forests and groves.”
William nodded meaningfully.
“I’m glad you see it that way,” he said. “I can’t help noticing that you seem…at home here,” William said.
And that was when Marigold began to wonder if William had only a harmless crush, after all. She nodded.
“I noticed that, too,” Finn said abruptly. “I thought that just the other day, when I saw you and Freddie.”
Marigold wasn’t sure how to respond to this, but she wondered if the brothers were trying to catch her in a kind of love trap–that is, if Finn was trying to help William win her. But she soon perished the thought. Even with her newfound confidence, such a conjecture had to be purely imaginary. William had only known her for a day, after all.
“Ironically, I do feel at home here in this strange land,” Marigold said. “I never really felt at home in the fire kingdom where I was born. That’s partially because I look like an outsider, true. But I also was never so interested in their wars and politics and ambition. I haven’t admitted that until now. My interests are humbler; as a child, I liked to tell stories and make things with my hands. It seems like I haven’t done either of those things in some time now.”
“What did you like to make?” William asked, again with an eagerness that unsettled Marigold slightly; she had a feeling, too, that, for William, her honest answer was one that would please him and displease him, hopefully dispelling any wrong ideas that he had about her.
“A little bit of everything. I liked to weave clothes, blankets, and even build furniture–small items like birdhouses, as well as tables and chairs. My father’s great friend let me help out in his shop–though it wasn’t a usual thing for a young woman to do, to be sure. Most of all I liked to paint landscapes from nature. But all of that changed when my parents died…I became depressed and…I got married.”
Marigold didn’t look–she might have cringed if she did–but she was sure she felt William’s face falling at the word “married.”
“You’re married?” he said, trying to conceal his shock.
“I was,” Marigold said resolutely. “We parted on good terms. It was a marriage of convenience for both of us. We fit well together in other people’s eyes. My family was prominent as was his. It was time for both of us to get married and besides, at that point, I was a woman alone, fairly sick in the head with grief. When he fell in love with someone else, I didn’t want to stand in the way, so I ‘abandoned him’ in the eyes of the law. I suppose it’s rather scandalous, isn’t it? But then,” Marigold said, sighing, “I suppose you didn’t really believe that woman without a tumultuous past just dropped into your yard one day. I have to give you that credit.”
Marigold was saying this for the benefit of William, who might have thought that a fully-formed, suitable bride had arrived on his doorstep. But Marigold had to disappoint him before this supposed crush got any further.
But Marigold noticed the effect of her words not on William, as she expected, but on Finn. He became noticeably quiet and contemplative, while William continued chatting, apparently unphased by what Marigold had just said. Hadn’t Finn heard this before? Maybe he just needed to be reminded that she was a divorcee on the run.
Marigold’s spirits fell despite herself. She wanted Finn to think well of her, she realized with a pang. Maybe it was the memory of the night before…Maybe she had begun to have silly feelings for this man who was so totally unavailable.
As they crested the hill into town on their horses, Marigold tried to put those feelings behind her. Beyond wanting to meet the townspeople who apparently knew her dead parents, Marigold was curious to see the studio where this unassuming couple made a living.
“Will we go see Hestia before and bring her with us?” William asked.
“No,” Finn said abruptly.
“Oh,” Marigold said. “Are you two coming in with me? I assumed you had other business to attend to in town.”
“I’d like to come,” William said, flashing his brown eyes at her. “I’d like to be with you.”
Marigold swallowed. She was beginning to cherish her own blunt way of speaking, but she’d have to get used to others acting the same towards her.
Just when she felt the silence becoming awkward, Marigold turned her head away from William.
“That’s nice, thanks,” she said quietly. Why should she care if a stranger heard more about her past? Surely Finn was going to see Hestia immediately, so she only had to account for one of the men.
“Well,” Marigold said, “give Hestia my best.”
“Actually,” Finn said, “I seem to recall just now that Hestia had plans of some kind for this hour. I wouldn’t want to disturb her. I’ll come along, too.”
“Alright,” Marigold said, gripping her reins tighter as they turned onto the main street that led into the cobble-stoned town. “We’ll all go.”
Chapter Six
Finn
The painter’s house, once desolate, was now an exquisite place to behold. It was in a tall, stone building in the middle of their bustling town, and when one entered it, there were multi-colored drapes hanging from the walls and pale blue velvet chaise lounges. Candelabras were on every surface, giving one the impression that the artists liked to work late at night. Finn had grown up knowing Melinda Hummel as a successful–even somewhat famous–artist who was often commissioned to paint royals from other lands. Melinda and her husband–who had taken on his sister, Julieanne, at the bakery–worked together to complete a portrait of Finn’s father, which they hung proudly in their living area.
