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Amelie took Evan’s hand. The light sparkled in his eyes and her feet were light, made lighter by the drink she had imbibed and the feelings in her heart. She had ignored the cruel things the vile girl had said, preferring to ignore the past, turning her skin to stone so that the words would simply bounce off and land harmlessly on the floor. Instead, she would lose herself in Evan. Her dainty hands disappeared into his large palms, and her body was dwarfed by his warrior’s physique. She had to tilt her head back to look up at him properly, and awe was in her eyes. He looked down at her, smiling all the time as the rest of the world melted away. There was only the two of them and the music, whirling around to the merry rhythm. He led and she followed, never having to worry about putting a foot wrong because he made sure everything was perfect. The crowd would clap and cheer, and people would see that she was more than just a silent, shy girl. She would blossom like a flower in spring and reveal her beauty. All of the people who said horrible things about her would stand there stupefied, realizing that they had been wrong all along.

And then the song would end and they would come to a halt, but Evan would not let her go. There was something tying them together, invisible threads that entangled them, and neither wished to break free. All the other women would be casting adoring glances towards him, but he would be blind to them all because he only had eyes for her. She would feel the tension in his body and her knees would shake. He would smile and then he would tell her that he loved her and wanted to marry her because he had never met anyone who had so immediately stolen his heart.

The chamber would hush. Everyone would look at her expectantly, and then her eyes would sparkle.

“Yes,” she would say, as loud and as clear as a pealing bell. The single word would fill the chamber and her curse would be broken. Fear had silenced her, but love would set her voice free and she could be just like everyone else. Her family would come up to congratulate her, while she and Evan would rejoice in the happiness they had found with each other. There could be nothing more perfect in the world, and with him, she would know happiness that would never come to her in the nunnery.

Amelie was startled by the intensity of the vision. The thoughts had quite gotten away from her. One moment she had been thinking of them dancing together and the next they were married and living in a house together in a completely different life! She blushed and glanced around, glad that nobody was nearby. She swallowed a lump in her throat and smoothed down her skirt, trying to compose herself in the wake of such intense thoughts. She had no idea what it was about Evan that inspired such things. After all, he was just a man… and yet he wasn’t like other men at all. He was patient and kind, and he had ventured outside to check on her. He knew little about her, and yet he was still concerned. There was an element of playfulness to him as well, and perhaps even a sense of danger. Where she was conservative, he was adventurous, where she was timid, he was outgoing. He might as well have been the opposite to her in every single way, and so in theory they should not have had anything in common at all, and yet when she had been talking with him she had been completely at ease. She didn’t feel ignored, and she didn’t feel as though she had to remain silent and let him talk about whatever he wanted. He read what she wrote and wanted to have a genuine conversation with her.

She was not going to delude herself into thinking that he was being anything other than polite considering that he was close to Pascal. For all she knew Pascal had asked Evan to make her feel comfortable. Whether this was true or not, it did not change the feelings in her heart. To feel this way was a rare thing for Amelie, and she wished to ride the pleasant waves for as long as she possibly could. She knew it was not going to last forever, so why not indulge herself and let herself linger in these warm waters? Evan would probably go on to have a long and happy marriage with some outspoken, wild woman who could go off with him on these adventures, but Amelie would always cherish the brief time they had spent together, and in her fantasies, she could pretend to be braver than she actually was.

She sighed as she glanced down at the embroidery she was working on to pass the time. She thought back to the morning and still harbored some resentment towards Fleur for insisting that she think about marriage. Fleur seemed to think that being in the nunnery was only a temporary measure and that eventually Amelie would fall in line and do as every other woman did. Fleur didn’t seem to understand how difficult Amelie still found it to be in the outside world, and with Amelie’s difficulty with speaking, it was hard to communicate this. There was a time when Fleur had known exactly what was on Amelie’s mind from a single glance, but as they spent less time together, she and Fleur had lost that connection. It was something to be mourned, but nothing could stop life from changing and moving forward. Amelie often thought back to those days in Paris when she, Pascal, and Fleur were together. In many ways, things were simpler then, although she knew she was idealizing that era because it certainly hadn’t been happy at the time, what with cold hunger gnawing inside, as well as the fear that some predator would come and prevent them from making it through the night.

Sometimes it seemed as though Fleur had forgotten who Amelie was, that she had built the image of the sister that she had wanted Amelie to grow into in her mind, and was disappointed that she had remained stunted. Fleur spoke about marriage and family as if it was the easiest thing in the world to pursue. Of course, life would be easier if she could just have these things. Amelie wasn’t blind to that, but she couldn’t simply change the way she felt. It wasn’t as easy as lighting a candle.

Of course, if it were…

Amelie and Evan would be sitting outside their house. The pale sun would shine upon them and a slight breeze would tug at the grass, making it look as though all the blades were dancing. How sweet it would be to feel so serene like this, with all the pieces of her life in place. Evan would place his hand on her shoulder and kiss her lightly on the head, and then she would look down at the baby she was holding. Its eyes would be wide and bright, filled with possibility and potential. Its skin would be soft and milky. Its features would be the blending of their best qualities, favoring its father. It would gurgle and wriggle in her arms, and she would rejoice with an elated heart at feeling this embrace of nascent life. All it had to do was grow and experience the world, and have a happier life than she had.

She would have the rest of her family nearby, all ready to spend time with her and her child. And then, when the child grew older they would begin to define themselves as a person. They would go out in the world and explore, discovering colorful flowers and strange insects and long, winding rivers. It would be a playground for them and they would not know the danger that Amelie had known, for her child would never be downtrodden or shunned. They would be the niece or nephew of a Laird, the son or daughter of the Captain of the Guard. Never would anyone say a cruel word against them, for they would soon be punished.

And then the child would come up to her one day with their wide eyes. They would reach up with tiny, grasping hands, pull her down, and whisper ‘I love ye Ma,’ and Amelie would look back and she… she… she would see the confusion on her child’s face as they waited for her to reply. Amelie would feel the words strangling in her throat again and then her child would think that she did not love them. They would weep and cry and run to their father, asking him why their mother did not love them. They would look at Amelie as though she was a monster, and Amelie’s heart would break again.

The fantasy quickly turned into a nightmare for Amelie, who could not escape the reality of the situation. How could she bring a child into this world when she knew that she might not be able to say what she needed to say to them? The shame and the fear ran through her blood and squirmed in the very depths of her soul. It was inescapable, and she knew that there were limits to what she could accomplish in life, and she certainly did not wish to bring a child who might feel that they were unloved into the world.

But thinking about all these things had another effect as well. As she had gotten carried away with her thoughts, she had lost track of what she was doing with her hands. The needle had veered sharply in the wrong direction and the tip had pierced her flesh. There was a sharp sting and a drop of blood oozed out of the hole. It shone as it trickled down her finger like a stream, and dripped onto the embroidery. Amelie jumped up and the needle fell to the floor, clinking as it did so. She scowled and held her finger tightly, trying to stem the flow of blood. She chastised herself for being so stupid as to let this happen. If nothing else, it proved that she should not be allowed to have a child because how on earth was she supposed to take care of someone else when she could not take care of herself? She shook her head and wished that Fleur could understand all this.

Amelie walked to a laundry room where she thought there would be some linen cloth to wrap around her finger. The room led outside, and the door was open, allowing a gentle breeze to enter. She gripped her finger tightly, annoyed at the pain. She rummaged through the chests, but could not find what she was looking for. It seemed as though the maids had been derelict in some of their duties given the feast. It was difficult for her to search as well, as she did not have the use of two hands. In fact, she only barely had the functional use of half a hand, since she had to hold her finger tightly in order to stop the blood from pouring out. She became flustered and couldn’t understand why things had to be so difficult, and then began thinking about where she could find something to wrap around the wound. The obvious thing to do would have been to find Fleur, but Amelie wanted to prove to herself that she was capable of looking after herself. She couldn’t rely on Fleur all the time, and she was not a child any longer.

She was taking the time to pull out drawers left and right when there was a soft knock on the door.

“Are ye well?” a familiar voice asked. It was Evan. Amelie froze and stood in the middle of the room, holding her finger. The last thing she had wanted was for him to see her like this, so helpless. He straightened his posture and looked at her with concern.

“Amelie, what’s wrong? Are ye hurt?” he gasped. She wondered how he had known she was in there, but then she noticed the trail of blood that led from the room out into the corridor, and likely wound through the castle, following the path she had taken. Clearly, she had not been squeezing hard enough, and errant drops of blood had fallen away. He must have taken it upon himself to investigate, considering that he was the Captain of the Guard. It again showed the difference between them, for if she had come across a trail of blood she would have steered well clear, preferring to find someone else who was a skilled tracker.

She hung her head and pulled her hand away, showing Evan her finger. He approached her, wearing a look of concern on his face. Without any hesitation, he took her hand, which shocked Amelie and made her flustered. Thankfully, she thought, he was looking at her finger rather than her face, as he might have then asked why she was blushing so fiercely.

Although his hands were strong and thick, they were also tender. His fingertips pressed into her palm gently, and she felt the warmth of them swimming over her.

“It looks like plum sauce,” he said with a grin. She smiled, thinking back to the way his lips had sucked off the sauce from his own finger. Now she thought of his lips brushing against the back of her hand. These halting sensations were difficult to control and she had no idea how these uncontrollable things kept rising within her. Evan had an unpredictable way about him, and she would never be sure where she stood with him.

“Ye should be more careful, Amelie. Ye can dae a lot of damage with a needle, ye know. I’m sure if it were called a tiny sword ye would be more conscious of the danger,” he said after inspecting the wound. Being such an experienced swordsman meant that he was well versed in many different types of wounds. He kept hold of her hand with one of his, and with the other, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. It was crisp and clean, shining a brilliant white. He swept it up her palm first, rubbing away the trickle of blood that reached the heel of her palm. He then wrapped the handkerchief around her finger tightly, making it look like a cocoon.

“There we gae, ye are all better again. That should keep things nice and tight, although ye might want tae gae and see a healer anyway,” he said, then he twisted his body around and looked at the trail of blood. “I’ll also hae tae get the maids tae clean up the trail ye left. The last thing we need is for people tae get worried that there’s been a murder. I mean, granted, the amount of blood that’s there means people will probably think it’s only been a mouse, but the last thing we need is tae fear a murderous cat that’s on the rampage!” he lifted his voice and pointed his finger into the air. Amelie smiled widely, amused by his exaggerated manner. His smile then faded into one that was more concerning.

“Ye should be more careful, though. If the needle pricks ye in the wrong place, well, before ye know it ye could lose tae much blood and then, well, let’s just say I hae seen tae many people fade away like that. Nae that I want tae worry ye or anything, I just dinnae like tae know that ye are hurt,” he spoke in a soft, earnest voice. A tender moment was shared between them. Amelie’s hand returned to her side. The pain throbbed, but she knew it would subside soon enough, thanks to Evan’s efforts. He was standing before her, just as he had in her fantasies. It made things blur in her mind and she wondered what might happen if she did take a risk. Of course, such a thing was never as easy in real life as it was in a fantasy, and she would never have dared to be as reckless as this. But she would have liked to thank him. The urge to do so swelled inside her, and she wanted to thank him properly. She parted her lips and tried to force the words out. She tensed the core of her body in the hope that she might be able to propel them upwards. It was only two simple words, two syllables, something that even a cherub could master.

Yet it was beyond her.

She struggled and the anguish became plain on her face as she tried and tried to give voice to these words, but although she felt comfortable with Evan he was still like a stranger to her, and the mental block was firmly in place. She wished she could show how much she appreciated his concern, but instead, she grew so frustrated with herself that she wanted to stamp her foot on the floor. She only stopped herself because she did not want to make him think of her as some immature child having a tantrum.

When she looked up at him again she saw kindness and patience in his eyes. It made her wonder if there was a part of him that actually understood what she was feeling, although if there was he did not make mention of it. Instead, he looked towards the open door that led outside.

“Before I picked up yer trail I was intending tae gae outside for a walk. Would ye care tae join me?” he asked. Amelie smiled and nodded, thinking that there wasn’t really any rush to leave for the nunnery just yet. After all, Sister Cora and the others weren’t going anywhere.