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The land was quiet, at peace. It had taken months more of mending, of careful rituals and loving attention to all the demesne’s ills. But at last, the land was quiet, and all was well.
Mirasol was glad to step out of the House for some fresh air, and gladder still that the Master had happily joined her. It was strange, perhaps, to be so eager for fresh air when so much of her work took place across sprawling meadows, in rippling brooks, in shaded nooks where the trees formed a canopy that seemed to keep out the world.
But the other part of her work took place indoors, when she stood stationary at the Master’s side as Chalice while they attended to the business of the demesne. And now that they had married, she slept in the House rather than at her little cottage except on rare occasions.
So the movement of the breeze and the chatter of birds made her smile. The Master held her hand as they strolled across the grass, and that made her smile too.
“That is a very bright smile,” he murmured, gazing at her in the golden sunlight. His eyes, no longer red, sparkled with fondness. “It is good to see, for I thought you were somewhat sad this morning. Tell me why you are smiling so brightly now.”
“Willowlands is happy,” she said, squeezing his hand, “and I am happy too.”
“And yet, you were frowning and already out of bed when I awakened.”
“I was not eager to attend to my duties,” she admitted. “I still grow tired of the gatherings that last hours. It is a long time to stand.”
“And to be kept inside.”
“Yes.”
They strolled in silence for a time, hands still linked. This would only be a short walk today, a quick outing after an even quicker meal. But even a brief walk was a relief, as ever.
Bees descended, their buzzing harmonies echoing across the meadow. One drifted down, fuzzy body brushing against Mirasol’s nose, and she laughed.
“They are pleased to see you.” The Master held out his hand, and another bee landed on his finger. She meandered up to his knuckles, exploring. “And perhaps to see me, as well?”
“To see both of us, certainly.” Bees were ever-present guests of the House, but only a handful at a time. It was only outside that they descended in bulk, happily congregating wherever Mirasol walked.
“I think it is good that you are so fond of the outdoors,” the Master said thoughtfully. “Many of our duties require that we confine ourselves to stuffy rooms, but the connection to the land is a far more vital part. Have you read if all Chalices are this eager for fresh air?”
“Not all of them. I have read accounts of some that only ventured out when the earthlines needed direct attention.” Reading such stories always made Mirasol more restless. She had no doubt that those Chalices had served their demesne well, but to sit inside all day was not in her nature.
“The land likes when we go for these strolls,” the Master said, holding out a hand. He passed it across the earth, as if caressing it from a distance. “I can feel it becoming even more settled each time we do. What a joy it is to have the demesne thrive! I remember when we each feared that we were not strong enough to heal it.”
“We were strong enough, together.” With regret, but still smiling, Mirasol tugged his hand and turned back towards the House. “And together, we will be strong enough to endure even the afternoon’s long meetings with the Circle.”
The Master laughed, and Mirasol watched his happiness with pleasure. They would share a little honey when they returned to the House, as further fortification for the meetings.
But although they would be indoors for the remainder of the day, the land was quiet, at peace. It would still be here, ready to welcome them when they could slip back out to enjoy the fresh air once again.