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With snow covering the lawns and a veritable blizzard falling from the sky, the path leading up to House Fraldarius disappears. That doesn’t stop the current Duke from standing by the window of the drawing room on the first floor – the good room – for hours on end. Behind him, the servants stoke the fire, voice their concerns about the weather, offer him tea. Felix ignores them all.
Sylvain sits by the fire, a book in his hand. Ingrid is about somewhere too, both having travelled down in the last few days with the excuse of being worried about Felix’s wellbeing. They’ve been talking about him behind his back, mostly because he hasn’t been returning their letters.
“You’ve been there ages,” Sylvain comments, shutting the book with a soft thud. “Whatever you’re expecting to see, it isn’t going to appear.”
“It will,” Felix reassures him. “I have it on good authority.”
“What are you waiting on, a letter? I doubt they’re going to be sending any mail today, not even express.”
“It’s not that.”
“You’re being weird, Felix. Even for you.”
“It’s none of your business, Sylvain.”
“Well, I’m worried about you! You’ve been all mopey for months.”
“I have not.”
“You have!”
“You sound like a child.”
“There’s nothing coming today, Felix. It’s just snow. You’ve got yourself all worked up about nothing.”
“Trust me, Sylvain.”
“If you tell me what you’re waiting for, maybe I’ll believe you.”
“It’s none of your business, Sylvain,” Felix says, turning sharply on his heel and walking out of the room.
He marches downstairs, ignoring Sylvain’s footsteps following him. He almost bumps into Ingrid on the way, and she joins in following him without asking any questions. Aside from going to the bathroom, there isn’t anywhere in House Fraldarius where he can escape. He walks into the morning room, and stares out the window there instead. Sylvain stands on one side of him and Ingrid on the other, and by some divine intervention, a carriage pulls into the driveway.
“Who is insane enough to come out here in this weather?” Ingrid asks. Felix dashes out of the room before even giving her a chance to answer, out into the entrance hall and through the front doors.
Snow falls thick and heavy, obscuring the carriage even after it stops in front of the door. It gathers in Felix’s hair, spotting bright against his dark hair. He rushes to the door of the carriage as it opens, and Annette steps out, stumbling into his arms. One hand lands on his chest, the other holding her skirts. She beams up at him, overjoyed to see him. He ushers her into the house, lifting her bags from the carriage before mumbling his thanks to driver and closing the door to the house behind him.
Annette greets Sylvain and Ingrid in turn, though both of them look completely baffled to see her. She rocks back on her heels, grinning at the two of them.
“What are you two doing here?” She asks, looking from Sylvain and Ingrid to Felix and then back again.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Sylvain comments.
“Oh! I’m here to do some reading. The library here has some rare books that will support my research. I asked Felix to post them, but they are really old, so he said I should just come here for a few days to read instead.”
“Aw, that was nice of him,” Ingrid says, narrowing her eyes at her friend.
“Uh-huh,” Sylvain agrees, giving Felix the same look.
“Let me show you to your room,” Felix says, ignoring both Ingrid and Sylvain in favour of walking up the stairs, Annette following him.
“Why are they here?” Annette murmurs.
“They came uninvited,” Felix tells her. “They’re worried about me, apparently.”
“Oh? Is something wrong?”
“No.” They stop outside a bedroom door, which Felix opens for her. She walks in, setting her bag by the window. Felix waits in the doorframe. The fire has already been lit for her, and she heads over, holding her hands over the flames. “I’m glad to see you.”
“Me too!” Annette says, turning back to him with a grin. It almost makes his heart skip a beat.
“Do you want me to show you where the library is?”
“No, I think I’ll take a while to warm up and change. I… I will see you at dinner?” She asks, almost requesting permission to join him.
“Of course. You know where to find me. I’m sure Ingrid and Sylvain will want to be there too, though.”
“Ah, well, they’re your guests too.” He swears that she deflates a little, but the change is barely perceptible. Maybe he’s going mad.
“I’ll show you the library after dinner,” Felix promises. This brings a smile to Annette’s face.
“Can’t wait!”
He closes the door quietly behind himself, leaving her alone as requested. He lets out a deep breath, preparing for the barrage of questions that will inevitably wait for him downstairs. Though he can’t really be bothered dealing with Sylvain and Ingrid at the moment, it is better to get all of this over and done with. Felix traipses back down the stairs, hoping that he can at least convince them to move on in the morning.
Sylvain starts with the questioning before he even makes it to the bottom of the stairs. Ingrid is a little more patient, though her crossed arms and frown tell him exactly what she thinks of the situation. With yet another sigh, he leads them through to the morning room once more, settling himself by the fire, the other two sitting across from him.
“Let me talk,” Ingrid says before Sylvain opens his mouth again. He nods, and she turns her attention onto their friend. “Why is Annette really here?”
“She’s really here to see the library. Have you met Annette? Do you think she would lie about something like that?”
“What’s the name of the book?”
“There’s a few, but the one that I couldn’t post out was ‘A History of Crestology: from Sothis to Seiros’. Father told me years ago that it’s been with the Fraldarius family for years.”
“A book on Crestology? Surely there’s copies of that in the school of sorcery?”
“It’s a first edition. She wants to compare differences in the texts.”
“And she came up here in that snowstorm to read it?” Sylvain asks, getting comfortable, a grin that Felix does not like spreading across his face.
“I think it’s… time sensitive. She does a lot of reading, you know.”
“Felix, she came to see you. The book thing is just a convenient excuse,” Sylvain points out. “Do you really think her uncle would let her come along to a bachelor duke’s house for a social visit?”
“He wouldn’t,” Ingrid interjects, lest Felix have any ideas about arguing back. “But he knows she’s serious about her studies, so if she asked to come on a research trip, he would be far more likely to let her go.”
“If Annette wanted to see me, surely she would’ve just asked when I next would be in Fhirdiad?”
“And when do you next plan on going to Fhirdiad?” Ingrid asks. Felix is silent, knowing well that the answer is never, if he can at all help it.
“I found the books for her, and set them on the desk in the library. Do you think she’s not going to read them?”
“Is she in the library now?”
“No, she’s resting.”
“Well, there’s your answer.”
“You two have overactive imaginations.”
“We’re just trying to help,” Sylvain tells him. “Goddess knows you need it – you are terrible at this sort of thing.”
“There is no ‘sort of thing’.”
“Okay, Felix.”
“I have work to do, unlike either of you. I run a territory, while all you two seem to do is pay social calls to busy people,” Felix snaps, rising from his seat. “Once it stops snowing, you need to leave. Go plan your own wedding or something.”
“We’re not getting married,” Ingrid says, her face flushing red with the implications.
“Why is it not okay for Annette to come here to read, but it’s fine for you to travel with him?” He asks, gesturing at Sylvain, who doesn’t even look offended. “He has a far worse reputation than me. His is for philandering, mine is just for… circumstantially being alone.”
“It’s not the same,” Sylvain says. “Ingrid and I have been friends for years – it would be no more odd than you and Ingrid hanging out. I have heard rumours about you and Annette’s relationship, though.”
“There is no relationship,” Felix says, finally having enough and walking out.
In the privacy of his office, Felix has more time to think. From the drawer of his desk, he lifts out a small pile of crumpled papers, all written in the same familiar, loopy hand. He and Annette have been exchanging letters for the best part of a year since the end of the war – since he came back to Fraldarius and she went off to the School of Sorcery.
He knew that had always been her dream, and though he desperately wanted her to come with him, Felix couldn’t bring himself to ask. It wouldn’t be fair, to snatch away the life she had dreamed of just to bring her to a mundane life in the middle of nowhere. Annette was not the sort of person that would enjoy being cooped up in a place like Fraldarius.
Her letters talk of a life in Fhirdiad that he couldn’t stand – socialising with scholars and nobles alike, going to the opera and chamber concerts, writing and reading and generally enjoying life. But her letters also talk of him, and their time together in the academy, and during the war, and of how much she misses him. Sometimes, Felix finds himself reading into her words a little too much, getting excited by the things that she says and the things she leaves unsaid.
They are flirtatious, he will admit that much. On occasion he writes letters to other people, and their replies never come as fast, never smell nice, never read like Annette’s do. But that doesn’t mean that they have a relationship – far from it – and it doesn’t mean that she came here specifically to see him. Annette has better things to do with her time to come up to Fraldarius to see him.
He’s wasted time reminiscing, Felix realises when the dinner bell rings. He shoves the letters back into the drawer, locking his office carefully as he leaves. When he finally makes it to the dining room, Annette, Sylvain, and Ingrid are already there, standing behind their places. Felix makes a mumbled apology, and heads to his place, allowing everyone else to sit.
“How is your reading going, Annette?” Ingrid asks as the first course is served. Felix glares across the table at her, but she pointedly ignores him.
“Good! I haven’t started on the book here yet – I was taking some time to dry off from the snow and rest. It’s a long way from Fhirdiad after all! But I finished my last book – ‘A History of Crests in Fódlan and their applications for modern living’. It was very interesting!”
“What made you go into Crest research? I thought you were more of a magic scholar?” Sylvain asks her.
“I am. It’s all related, you see. I’m looking into the theoretical link between magic users and crest havers, and which crests boost magic, and if being adept at magic influences your chances of a crest activating.”
“Oh. Seems like you’ve really given it some thought.”
“I mean… yeah. That’s like, the entire point of studying, Sylvain!”
“Will you be studying after dinner, Annette?” Ingrid asks. “Sylvain and I were going to play cards; maybe you could join us.”
“I’m only here for a few days, so I have to make all my hours count,” Annette says apologetically. “Maybe next time!”
Sylvain hums in response to that, giving Felix a look. Next time, he mouths. Felix understands that she meant the next time she saw them, not the next time she was here. She has no need to be here in the future, not after she finishes her reading. Sylvain is just trying to rile him up. The servants replace their dishes, and Felix concentrates very hard on the second course.
“Do you think the snow will let up any time soon?” Annette asks, looking past Felix into the gardens beyond. Though the skies are dark, the brightness of the snow casts the gardens in an eerily bright glow.
“Doubt it,” Sylvain answers. “Often doesn’t, up here. Who knows, Annette, you might be stuck here for a while.”
“I hope not,” she says, wrinkling her nose. This is the most perfect thing she could say, and Felix thanks her for it. “I have a deadline soon – why I’m here reading in the first place, I need some extra sources to bulk out my research.”
“I thought you were becoming a teacher?” Ingrid asks.
“Well, that was the plan, but I don’t think I’m a very good teacher. I can’t explain stuff very well. I get too excited, or distracted…”
“You were fired,” Felix fills in for her.
“I was not!” She counters, puffing out her cheeks indignantly. “More like… reassigned. Moved sideways into research. I can go back to teaching if I want.”
“And do you want to?” Ingrid asks.
“Not really. I mean, maybe in the future. But I have some other plans.” Felix finds himself hoping that he is included in those plans. Her gaze lands on him for a second, before passing over him to look out the window again. “I was hoping to go for a walk while I was here. I heard you have a really nice rose garden.”
“In the summer,” Felix tells her. They’re all dead now. Buried under the snow.”
“You could’ve just said they don’t bloom at this time of year,” Annette grumbles.
Once again, the servants return, removing empty plates. This time, they don’t come back with another plate, and Felix can see the disappointment passing across Annette’s place. If she lived here, he’s certain there would be dessert every day, whether he wanted there to be or not. He supposes that’s what Duchesses do – plan menus and parties and decorate. That’s what his mother always did anyway – now she just delegates the tasks to him, insisting he could do better. Annette would be good at that sort of thing, he thinks, trying his best not to stare at her.
“Best go do your reading,” Ingrid says, a smirk appearing on her face. One that Felix doesn’t like, and one that leaves even Annette’s brow furrowed.
“Oh, of course. I won’t stay up too late – maybe I’ll see you for supper.”
“Do you think Felix will provide supper for us?” Ingrid laughs.
“I can,” he grumbles. “If that’s what you all want.”
“Please! Let’s reconvene in a few hours. I mean, we hardly get to see each other now,” Sylvain agrees.
“Fine. I’ll get it arranged.”
Felix leaves them for a moment, heading into the kitchen. He makes three requests, and is very apologetic, for he never makes requests. Hot herbal tea for his mother – he hasn’t seen her all day, and doesn’t want her thinking that he doesn’t want to see her when his friends are over. Supper for the four of them, to be served around ten o’clock. And dessert from Annette to be sent up to the library as soon as it is ready. Usually he would condone eating around books, and he’s sure that Annette would say the same, but this is a special occasion, and surely she won’t mind just this once.
By the time he returns to the dining room, Sylvain and Ingrid have disappeared, leaving him alone with Annette. She stands by the window, looking vaguely out into the night. Felix joins her, standing alongside her. For once, she doesn’t jump with surprise or call him a villain. She merely sighs.
“It’s a shame it’s snowing.”
“I told you that you didn’t need to come if the weather was bad.”
“It wasn’t bad when we left Fhirdiad,” Annette tells him. “It was just raining. The snow didn’t start until we got nearer here. But… even if it was snowing there, I still would’ve come.”
“Not very fair on your driver, hm?”
“Not like you to consider that. I suppose not. I hope he got home okay.”
“I told him to stay in the servants quarters. He’ll be fine. No point in killing a driver over some snow and an old book.” Annette looks up at him, a twinkle in her eye.
“You have changed,” she says, nudging him with her hip.
“Do you think that’s a good thing?” He asks, not sure if he wants to know the answer.
“I don’t think it’s a bad thing,” Annette answers, diplomatic for once. “But I do appreciate your more caring side.”
“If it’s not snowing in the morning, I can see if we can clear a path for you to go for a walk.”
“I think it will still be snowing,” she says, patting him on the arm. “Now, can we go to the library?”
“Oh. Of course.”
He leads her up the stairs, and instead of heading to the left where the bedrooms are, he leads her to the right, where the majority of the other rooms are. He passes the good drawing room and his office, and takes a turn before opening the heavy doors to the library. It doesn’t get much use these days – Felix isn’t much of a reader. But he’s made sure it was cleaned for Annette’s coming, the fire lit for her to sit in here until it’s time to sleep.
Felix half expects her to light up, to get excited about the room, but she doesn’t. He supposes she’s been in many libraries as an academic, and this one isn’t particularly exciting. Still, she seems to have a nervous buzz about her as they walk down the aisles of books. Felix points out the desk to her, a stack of books that she requested sitting on the end.
“There you go,” he says. “Um… if you need anything, let me know.”
“Will do. Thanks!”
He pauses for a moment, wondering what to do. But Annette opens the first book and starts reading, just as she said she would. Felix leaves her to it, closing the doors to the library behind him. He considers finding Ingrid and Sylvain, mostly so he can point out that he was right, Annette was here to study. But he thinks better of it, and heads just along the corridor to his office instead.
He got no work done today, and with all the distractions, he doesn’t suppose he’ll get much done tomorrow. Requests for aid in the cold months is most of what he has to deal with, making sure that the villages in the duchy are looked after. It isn’t interesting work, but there’s something that Felix enjoys about it.
He manages to get a few tasks before the bell for the supper he had arranged rings. The thought of going fills him with dread. He has had enough socialising for today, but is well aware that if he doesn’t turn up, Sylvain will drag him down the stairs. He pauses by the door, hearing two pairs of footsteps leave the drawing room, and another join them from further down the corridor. He counts to ten, and leaves the comfort of his office.
The spread is more impressive than dinner – biscuits and pastries and tea for everyone. Lady Fraldarius joins them for a few minutes, making small talk with Ingrid and Sylvain and introducing herself to Annette, who seems delighted to meet her. She gives Felix a look, one that he knows well from his childhood. A look of caution. A serious look from an otherwise kindly woman. Felix nods subtly, and she sees herself out.
Annette asks Ingrid and Sylvain a hundred questions about their lives, what they’re up to and where they’re living. She asks if they’re together, which gets the same reaction as Felix asking earlier – a very flustered denial. Annette laughs it off, but it leaves Felix wondering if they really are together. It’s not his business, he supposes, but he would still rather like to know if his best friends were courting.
“Are you courting anyone, Annette?” Ingrid asks. Felix has to resist rolling his eyes – she’s not very subtle. “All those fancy scholars in Fhirdiad, and so many nobles too… I suppose you have the cream of the crop.”
“Um… no, I’m not. I’ve been very busy, you see.”
“No big social events for students in the school of sorcery?” Sylvain asks. “You’re the sort of person that would love a ball.”
“Not really,” Annette tells them. “I mean, there was a winter ball, a few weeks back, and as far as I’m aware there will be a summer ball this year. But I’m terrible at dancing, so I don’t really get on too well at balls.”
“A shame. There’s usually a few royal balls in the summer months – maybe you could sneak into one of those?”
“She could probably get invited, since she knows Dimitri,” Ingrid reminds him.
“I don’t think they’re really much of my thing,” Annette says. “I mean, I would never turn down the invitation. But I’m more of a staying in than going out person.”
“Just like Felix, then,” Sylvain says. Annette turns to the man in question, eyes wide, and he forces himself to turn his head away.
“Leave him alone,” Ingrid says, which immediately puts Felix on guard. She’s been antagonising him all day, just to stop Sylvain now? “Poor Felix has had a long day. He hasn’t seen this many people in months, I’m sure he’s tired.”
“You’ve been alone for months?” Annette asks.
“I have the staff. And my mother.”
“But you don’t talk to them, not like you would talk to your friends.”
“Well, I can. If I want to.”
“If you had said you were alone, I would’ve come to visit earlier!” Annette says, and Felix can feel the blood running to his face.
“I’m not alone,” he reiterates. “And I’m busy. I don’t have time to be entertaining guests. Annette wanting to visit the library is one thing, but you two being here is just ridiculous.” He says, gesturing to Ingrid and Sylvain.
“We’re just worried about your wellbeing-“ Ingrid starts.
“I’m fine. All of this is a lot to adjust to, and it’s been less than a year from the end of the war. Stuff like this takes time. Sorry that while I’ve been making sure the people that live in Fraldarius don’t die, I haven’t been able to keep a social calendar!”
He leaves in a huff, not being able to stomach looking at them for a moment longer. Alright, perhaps he is a little lonely, and perhaps he is not coping as well as he might like with having to be the Duke. But Ingrid and Sylvain don’t understand that. Their families are still largely intact, and neither will be taking on their title any time soon. Neither of them have people to worry about other than themselves, and yet they insist on interfering with his business.
Footsteps follow him up the stairs, and he doesn’t dare turn around lest he say something that he regrets later. He continues walking, and the footsteps do too. Eventually he stops, outside the door to his bedroom, and turns to see Annette, the least offensive of the three options. He opens his mouth, but Annette shakes her head.
“Do you want to talk?”
“I’m fine,” Felix reiterates. “Well, I’m getting there at least.”
“I think you’d get there faster if you had someone else around.”
“Don’t you start too.”
“Can we walk? I… have some thoughts that I’d like your opinion on.”
Felix resists rolling his eyes, and instead nods his head towards the corner they came from. It brings them back to the entrance hall, where he and Annette come face to face with a large portrait of the Fraldarius family, hanging right above the stairs. Felix has thought about replacing it – only half the family are alive to appreciate it. But he knows his mother will not accept this. Annette stops and stares for a moment. Felix would like to encourage her on, but she seems enthralled by this glimpse into the past.
“I never really knew Rodrigue well, and I never met Glenn. They both look very kind. But I think you look more like your mother, Felix.”
“Hardly. Everyone always says I look exactly like my dad, and Glenn.”
“Oh, so my opinion doesn’t count?” Annette says, joking. He manages a smile, just fleeting.
“Why do you think that?” He asks, gesturing back to the painting.
“You have her eyes. You have her nose, and her jawline, and her chin. You may have the same hair colour as your father, but… I think you take after her more.”
“You’re the first person to ever say that.”
“Everyone else you know must be stupid,” Annette jokes again. Once again, Felix manages to smile. He guides Annette up the stairs once again, onto the other side of the house, and into the good drawing room. Sylvain and Ingrid have left it very tidy, drawn the curtains, plumped up the cushions. He gestures to the door; she nods to close it. Felix takes a seat on one sofa, and Annette sits opposite him.
“I know we write a lot of letters, but it’s hard to get everything I want to say onto a page,” Annette begins, tying her fingers into knots.
“I understand. There’s… a lot of things I’ve wanted to say to you, but I’ve never managed to write.”
“I… I think we’re on the same page.” She says. Felix nods, though he’s not entirely sure where she’s going with this.
“Once I finish my studies, I’d like to move up to Fraldarius. This will still be a few months off – think summertime. And I’ll maybe plan a visit or two in between then. I think it’ll be good for you, having someone else around. And… you know. It would help more if it’s me.” She beams at him. Felix is even more confused than he was before.
“No offence, Annette, but… why?” She stares at him, before sighing.
“It seems we are not on the same page.” She crosses the room, sitting beside him, a little close for propriety’s sake, and takes his hands within her own. “We’ve been sending regular correspondence to each other for a year. Do you know how many other people I send letters like that to? Zero!” She says, shaking his hands.
“Oh,” is all Felix can muster. Then – “I don’t send letters like that to other people either.”
“Oh, you’re just going to make me come out and say it, aren’t you?”
“You don’t have to,” Felix says quickly, catching on to what’s happening. “If you don’t want to. I get it. Sorry, I just-“
“I thought that because you told me all that… stuff about my songs, and you asked me to write when we left Garreg Mach, that…”
“That I felt the same?” Felix asks. She nods. “I do, Annette. I’m just… not good at all of this.”
They sit in silence. Annette drops his hands, taking hers back into her lap. She doesn’t look up at him anymore. The fire crackles behind them, illuminating Annette in its warm glow. She’s never looked better, Felix thinks.
“That’s why you want to come here, then? You want to… get married?”
“You say it so casually,” Annette says, her laugh coming out a little choked up. “But that’s where I thought this was all going. It seems I got a little ahead of myself.”
“I think it’s more that I need to catch up. I’m sorry, Annette, for…”
“You have nothing to apologise for. Seriously! If I had just come out and said it in a letter, instead of just… vaguely hoping that you would get the idea…”
“You should know by now that I’m not the best at… getting the idea,” Felix says. He brings his hand up to her face, scared that she’ll turn away again. But she doesn’t, and she lets him tilt her gaze towards him.
“I do want to get married. To you, specifically,” she says.
“Not very traditional for you to ask me.”
“I’m not asking you anything. I’m just telling you what I want.”
“Can we… wait a little while? Court first, like normal people?”
“Summer wedding,” Annette counters. “After I finish my studies. I worry about you too, you know. Alone with only your mother and your servants, with no friends… and you don’t even seem to get along that well with your servants! I loved my handmaid.”
“Fine,” Felix says. “Whatever you want.”
“Can I say it now, then?” Annette asks, shifting a little closer to him.
“Yes.”
“And will you say it back?”
“I will.” She smiles, and takes a deep breath.
“I love you, Felix.”
“I love you too.”
She squeals at that, a girlish sound that Felix has never heard from her. It makes him laugh, and Annette glares at him. Her anger lasts mere seconds before she shakes her head and pulls him down into a kiss. Felix has imagined kissing Annette before, as embarrassing as that is, but it wasn’t like this, her arms flung around his neck and her lips insistently pressing to his. He had imagined more romance, but he’s hardly complaining.
He shifts a little, moving one knee onto the sofa to support him. Annette presses ever closer. He realises with a start that he has no idea what to do with his hands, and ends up wrapping one arm around her waist and cupping her face with the other hand. Annette hums, clearly enjoying herself, pushing and pushing until he’s lying back, her practically on top of him. Felix tears himself away, loathe as he is to do it.
“You’re very… enthusiastic.”
“Too much?” She asks, sitting back, biting her lip.
“A bit. Another time,” he promises.
“Okay. Sorry! I was just enjoying myself.”
“Understandable. I… enjoyed that too. And plenty more to come?”
“Hopefully!”
Felix sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He settles himself in the corner of the sofa, and looks at Annette expectantly. It doesn’t take her long to catch on to what he wants, and she curls up beside him, laying her head on his shoulder.
“I know you’ve written some songs,” he murmurs.
“I suppose you think you’re entitled to all my songs now you’ve told me you love me.”
“Not entitled. Just… hopeful.”
“Fine,” Annette says.
Back in their academy days, an admission to sing to him would be beyond embarrassing for her, any ‘fine’ that passed her lips would be full of venom. But this one is different, happier, and she settles into Felix’s arms for a rendition of her newest song. Like all of her other tunes, it makes no sense, but that doesn’t stop Felix from enjoying every moment. She’s silent for a moment when she stops, before looking up at Felix.
“I’m only here for a few days, and I really do have to do that reading. When do you think we can see each other again?”
“You’re welcome whenever you want,” he tells her, and for once, he means it.
“And will you come to Fhirdiad? We could go to the opera together – I know you’d really enjoy it.”
“It may be a little more difficult to arrange, but I can certainly try. I don’t think our Fhirdiad residence has been used in a long time.”
“You have a house in Fhirdiad, and you’ve never bothered to use it?” Annette asks, outraged.
“Well, there’s not much in Fhirdiad that interests me aside from you. And I’ve been busy, Annette, you know that.”
“Still,” she huffs. “I expect a tour when you come down from your chilly northern residence.”
“I don’t have much choice in the weather here.” He pauses. “I’ll make sure no one else comes to the house so we’re not disturbed next time.”
“Ah, so that’s why you’re so hesitant. Don’t want to explain all of this to your friends,” Annette says slyly, her hand hooking around Felix’s neck once more.
“I will explain,” he says, lest she get the wrong idea. “But you know Sylvain. He needs a… sit down sort of conversation. Everyone in Faerghus would know in twenty four hours if he found out any other way.”
“True. You’ll need to tell my mother, too. She’ll want to know your intentions with me.”
“I think it’s more you and my mother,” Felix says. “Your intentions are… much clearer.”
“Well, it’s a good thing she’s here,” Annette giggles. Felix will never get used to how that sound makes him feel.
“I’ll write to your mother in the morning. And then we can arrange to meet when I am next in Fhirdiad.”
“You’re taking this so seriously.”
“Is that not what you want?”
“It is,” Annette says with a smile. “It is exactly what I want.”