"Oh, that sounds wonderful, actually! I forgot to eat lunch today."
"Wonderful! Please excuse me for a moment, then, and feel free to find a seat thatsuits you at the table," he said, rising and striding toward the kitchen.
The dining room at the end of the space featured a beautiful floor-to-ceiling window that looked out over a peaceful garden area that was tucked behind the house. It was full of sculptures, skeletons carved from stone in various poses. One in particular caught my eye—two skeletal lovers in an embrace, one with a gracefully arched back and the other bending over them.
The sound of Benedict's footsteps pulled me from my examination of the sculpture, and I turned to see him carrying a steaming pie. Its puffed pastry crust was perfectly golden, and steam wafted from the delicate design of cuts on the top.
"Oh my, you didn't have to make anything so fancy on my account!" I said with a laugh.
"Nonsense, I rarely entertain and I love to cook. I'll be right back with the rest," he said, turning to go again after he set the pie at the center of the table. I set my wine down at theseat at the head of the table and made myself comfortable.
A moment later, Benedict reappeared with a tray. It held dishes of long, thin, bright-green beans, purple carrots with some sort of glaze, and a small bowl of bright red sauce.
"A true holiday spread, I see!" I said enthusiastically. I loved traditional solstice foods, but I couldn't remember the last time I'd had any. "Everything smells wonderful, Benedict."
When I said his name he paused as he arranged the dishes and looked up at me thoughtfully. "My name sounds so lovely on your lips."
And now I was blushing. Gods, Benedict was so kind and always a gentleman to me, and he had my heart doing silly flips in my chest.
"Would you like me to make you a plate, or make your own?" A simplequestion, but one I found I appreciated. I actually did want to make my own plate.
"I'll handle mine, thank you," I answered with a smile. I reached for the dish of carrots just as he did, and our hands brushed. Neither of us immediately pulled back; we just looked at each other for a moment. I finally broke the silence with a nervous "sorry" and he chuckled as he apologized as well.
We shared a lovely meal, with delicious food and interesting conversation. He told me of his home near the coast, with its stark rock pillar formations and volatile weather. I told him of my time as a battle mage. We talked of the past and of the future, as necromancers were meant to do on solstice.
"Is there anyone you're remembering tonight?" I asked.
"There is, in fact. My dear friend Fredrick—he chose a mortal life over the eternity of undergoing the rite. He was the same age as one of my older siblings, so about fifty years older thanme. He passed on about ten years ago, but he was such a kind and generous soul—one that I strive to emulate." Benedict turned thoughtful as he spoke. "And you, my dear?"
"My grandmother, I suppose. She was also a kind and generous soul, and my days spent with her as a child were some of my best memories," I said.
"Let us drink to them, then, and honor them with our futures," Benedict said, raising his glass toward me. I mirrored his movement, and we both took long sips of our wine.
It was now fully dark outside, and I had lost track of the time.
"I suppose I should be going soon," I said, harboring some small hope that he might ask me to stay. That he might have other plans for us on this long night. I certainly had plenty of ideas.
"You're welcome to head home whenever you'd like, my dear, but I do have a surprise for you, if you've the time."
"Of course, I'll always have time for a surprise! How could I refuse?" I smiled at him fully, wanting him to see the joy he brought me.
"Follow me, then," he said, and offered me his arm. I took it, and the smell of him washed over my senses. I felt myself relax being this close to him.
We made our way up the staircase, past the second floor and up to a terrace with another door. He opened it, and a beautiful rooftop garden of miniature willow trees greeted us. The night was brisk, but not windy. Greenish orbs of gently glowing light bobbed in the air around the space, casting it in an otherworldly glow.
In the center of the garden was a massive two-person sofa with an overstuffed ottoman in front of it. A tiny box with a gold bow sat atop it, and a side table with a bottle of wine and two glasses sat ready nearby.
I couldn't help the small gasp that escaped me at the sight. It was sobeautiful, and so romantic, and any doubt of Benedict's interest in me faded.
"Come," he said gently, guiding me out into the cool night air.
I took a seat on the sofa, and noticed that a massive knit blanket was draped over its arm. "May I?" I asked, gesturing to it.
"Of course, my dear, that's why I put them here!" he said.
I pulled the blanket up around my shoulders, savoring the snuggly feeling of it. It smelled like him, too, which didn't hurt.
"I know it's a bit presumptuous of me, but I saw this and it made me think of you," Benedict said, offering me the small box.
