Bellavarn grabbed his coat and was about to head out when a figure slipped into the library. April waved with the book she was holding.

"I'm back. I finished the book you recommended, The Stalwart Three. It was sad, but it had a lot of fun conversations."

"Isn't that the third book in as many days?"

"Oh. This is nothing. Short ones only take a few hours. I get to use enchanted glasses whenever I want because of my work at the Grand Library."

Enchanted glasses? Bellavarn was sure he jotted down a note reminding him to look into that. It must have gotten lost. He never heard of an enchantment to absorb information faster. How would such an abstract enchantment function?

"Doesn't that detract from the mood if you are reading so fast?"

April leaned on her heels. Her curly locks swayed as she shook her head.

"Nope. Most of my work is categorizing, but I still go through each emotion at a normal pace.."

That was a convenient tool. Whoever invented it must have a biography written down somewhere. Maybe it could spark some inspiration in his own work.

Looping an arm through a thick winter jacket, Bellavarn mused on how much longer it would be required. The winter chill was determined to make a second pass before it allowed the snow to finally melt.

"Can I recommend you something else, or are you stocked up on reading material?"

"I am okay. I'm busy with work. Did you get a chance to read The Fated Vestige I lent you?"

Bellavarn looked at the unopened book lying on his desk. Honestly, he thought he would have more time. He was recently struck by inspiration, thinking of a new way to develop the leylines on his device. Bellavarn was in a fugue all morning and only recently came out of it.

"I haven't had the chance. I will start it when I get back; I have to head out before it gets dark."

April stopped bouncing.

"I was hoping I could give you something."

"You can wait here until I get back if you wish."

April looked down at the rug.

"Is... Is this a place I can attend? If it isn't professional business, I would like to be able to speak with you more."

"It isn't professional, but it is personal."

"I won't be a bother. I can stay in the carriage and wait."

Bellavarn finished buttoning his coat. Putting on his gloves, he sighed. He would've said no if April were pouting or begging, but it sounded like she truly wanted to spend time together. The problem was that he really didn't want to bring her. He left his door open all day for her or others to drop by. This was supposed to be his time.

"You can come; on the condition that you absolutely do not give me whatever you were planning to."

Her celebratory cheer was cut short. She drooped.

"I don't understand."

"You can give it to me another day if you insist on joining me. Or you can wait here and give it to me upon my return. It is your choice. Just know, if you choose to give it to me while we are out... I will reject it."

He kept his voice level and his gaze stern, impressing the seriousness of his words.

April turned downcast. This wasn't what she hoped, but she would respect Bellavarn's boundaries. She could either wait until later, or go with and perhaps figure out what was so important.

"I'll accompany you. If you'll have me?"

Bellavarn straightened his jacket.

"I said I would allow it, so I will. Is your jacket downstairs?"

"It is. Will we be traveling far?"

"Not overly so. Fifteen minutes by carriage. I will meet you down in the entrance hall in a few minutes. Go ahead and wait for me there."

"Okay."

Bellavarn walked out the door, ushering April with him. Closing it, he turned and walked wordlessly down the left corridor. April watched him for a moment before turning in the opposite direction.

=

It wasn't a long wait. It was just enough time for April to ponder. If it were professional business, April wouldn't have been allowed to accompany the him. Bellavarn stated it was personal business. One that needed to be complete before nighttime. That meant it would most likely occur outside where the weather became freezing after the sunset.

It would help if April had some clues as to where they were going, but Bellavarn hadn't given her any.

Until she saw him walking down the stairs.

Her eyes immediately honed in on the flowers in his hand. Her first thought was that they weren't for her. Her second thought was, "of course they are for me." The third thought as he approached was, "Oh no. They aren't for me." Her fourth, fifth, and sixth thoughts spiraled out of control as Bellavarn only nodded to her before moving past, out the entrance.

"Same place as usual, master Bellavarn?"

"Yes. Thank you for keeping it a secret, Nem."

Same place as usual?

A secret?

Oh, bother! What did I just get myself into?

"Are you still coming, Miss April?"

Was it too late to say no? April didn't want to know. Better remain ignorant of any competition. If she were to meet another lady like this...

"Ahaha... Of course."

She accepted Bellavarn's hand and climbed into the carriage, praying.

=

April's mind was a mess. A catastrophe. Mini-Aprils were in a panic, throwing out precious files while connecting dots on a wall.

An engineer. Definitely. A famous female engineer is helping him with his magic doohickeys.

The Mini-Aprils crossed-out pictures labeled in files using red lipstick.

Is it one of those specialty crafters? Didn't he talk about a Kerv working in the ceramics studio? Is Kerv a girl's name?

The miniature carbon copies sat around a table screaming accusations, deciding who to blame.

Is it one of the others from the Grand Library? There were a few other assistants who are prettier than I am. More available. More qualifications and less freckles.

One of the Mini-Aprils introduced wine into the conversation, and everything turned up several degrees in severity. The table was tossed. A fire was started. The wallpaper ripped off. Mini-Aprils ran around screaming, waving their hands in the air, brawling, and throwing cups.

Then it all stopped.

"Lavender looks good on you; it brings out the yellows in your hair."

"Huh?"

All the Mini-Aprils paused in their actions, gaping in astonishment. One of them coughed, putting out the fire with a wand. The real April stared blankly at Bellavarn sitting kiddie corner to her. He wore a dark blue overcoat that made his eyes twinkle. His blond hair was groomed just below his ears and was brushed back off his forehead—the bouquet of flowers resting on his lap registered in her peripheral.

"It was a good choice. Ginger hair can be misinterpreted as red more often than not. Derived from the so-called 'red-head'; however, there is a lot of yellow in the underlying tones. Wearing a lavender coat backdrops your hair nicely. Lavender also relaxes me more than your usual brightly colored clothes."

"..."

Mini-Aprils reset their chairs and picked up the table together. Sitting down, they discussed this new development.

Is it a ploy?

Colors? Yellow?"

He likes purple? It relaxes him.

How do we respond?

I think we embarrassed him. Look, he is staring back out the window.

The April in charge made a decision.

"I don't think anyone has thoroughly analyzed both my hair and my clothes before."

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

She watched Bellavarn scratch his cheek, trying to hide a slight blush.

"Yes. Well. I know a thing or two about color, and you seemed lost in thought, so I thought I would try breaking the spell."

Had she seen this side of him yet? He was thoughtful. The compliment was over the top, but it was sweet.

Bellavarn clearly became uncomfortable in the silence because he continued speaking.

"Have you had a chance to meet Denice at the mansion? She sometimes daydreams as well. I could see you two being friends."

"Denice?"

Bellavarn nodded, gazing out the window.

"One of the maids. Black hair, cut short to frame her face. Only a few inches taller than you. She has a soothing voice that perks up when speaking about tea. She collects brands and even makes some herself. We share some every few days, but she's really particualr and won't let me add unescessary amounts of sugar."

April thought she could remember seeing such a maid on her second day visiting. She'd been sitting, drinking tea with Bellavarn when April entered. She barely noticed the maid picking up and leaving.

Didn't I ignore her because I was focused on Bellavarn?

"You know a lot about one of your maids."

Bellavarn shrugged.

"I take the time to spend moments with each of the staff when I can. I neglected to get to know them previously. Potter, in particular, has the luck of the devil. I can never beat him at dice. Maybe I just don't understand how it works. It shouldn't be impossible to get one lucky roll, right?"

"I couldn't say."

"And Cynthia is even more reserved than Denise. I can't get her to speak excitedly about anything. She always sits there with her pursed lips, eternally amused by something. I think she is the type that finds solace in working simply to work. Getting her to relax and open up is a task in itself."

"I see..."

"I think Kerv likes her. I could see him eyeing her from across the room. I tried to set them up once. What a failure that was. It was worse than when I tried to pry Vienna from her soup station. Consumed by soup, that one. Never parts from the pot. The only way she goes home at night is if Misses Vale whacks her with a ladle."

"No. Really?"

"Really! I've been on the receiving end of a few whacks myself, and they are not pleasant. I pity her husband sometimes."

"You know her husband?"

"I've met him once. He lost a hand during his service, yet he still manages to wrangle six children all day."

"Six!"

"That was my reaction!"

...

It took some time, but the longer she listened to Bellavarn speak, the more enthralled she became. Each person had their own story. Their own background and personality. Bellavarn brought each of them to life as he talked about them. They were less like employees and more like coworkers. Peers or Colleagues. Friends!

April was jealous. There was significantly less staff in her house. Even with fewer faces to remember, April didn't know all their names. Talking with them always made her feel like a fool. They never matched up to the vivid characters she read about. None were heroes or princesses. But maybe, if she got to know them, their stories could be told. What hidden gems could she find? What has she been missing by retreating into paper? A treasure trove hidden in plain sight.

=

"We're here, master Bellavarn."

Nem called out, interrupted their chat.

"Already? That was fast"

Bellavarn swiftly sobered.

"Alright. Wait here. I will be back in soon."

April peeked out the window, her eyes widening. Was this where Bellavarn had personal business?

But this is...

"Wait."

Bellavarn stopped. His hand on the handle. His expression morphed into blank stone.

"Wait..."

April became less certain.

"Can I? Accompany you, I mean?"

Bellavarn stared. He gazed into April's green eyes, making her look away.

"I'll be silent, I promise."

"Don't make a promise you can't keep."

April could say nothing to that. How could she? There would undoubtedly be a time in which she felt the need to speak. Countless questions already ticked her. How could she resist? All April could do was examine the lines of her gloves in shame. She traveled this far thinking traitorous thoughts. Bellavarn not only pulled April out of her brief funk but lit a spark in her that she didn't know she needed.

She sat in silence, waiting for him to exit, but he never did.

"You can follow if you wish."

April held her tongue and only nodded. Bellavarn stepped out, the cold air marching in.

Taking a deep breath, she followed.

=

Snow drifted off the beaten path and onto nearby grass. April took note of how the path weaved and curved naturally, instead of being in a straight line. Bellavarn's steps crunched snow as they traversed a less-traveled path. He knew where he was going and didn't bother stopping along the way.

A rare cedar tree dotting the barren landscape allowed some shaded sanctuary. Snow gleamed off the bare branches, a dilapidated bird's nest rested on the tallest limb. Intermittent chirping could be heard over the crunch of snow and wind blowing past April's ears.

Winter lasted extra long this year, but was nature slowly returning. Soon, the rest of the snow would melt. Leaves would grow anew, and spring flowers will bud. Bees will harvest the nectar of blooming flora. Animals will peek out from hibernation. Life will restart.

But not yet.

The chirping cut off as the bird's nest toppled from a sharp wind.

It was still too early. Winter is present. Snow and silence. Dreary and moody. Unwilling to go away.

April halted her steps, stopping a few feet away from Bellavarn. He looked down at a small stone plaque. April read it from afar. The writing was crude, but the intent was clear.

Astel Cross

The name didn't ring any bells. It sounded like a woman's name, but April couldn't be sure.

She watched as Bellavarn bent down, placing a flower in a nearby holder. Then he did the same for the next grave over.

Paul Cross

The white lilies accompanied older ones. Three flowers in each after Bellavarn removed the two most withered. Rocking on his toes, falling back, Bellavarn sat in the snow—no place better to sit as he monitored the stationary graves.

April wanted to know more, but the names on the graves didn't mean anything to her. The graveyard wasn't for nobles. It wasn't even fenced. This small plot laid miles from the nearest village.

She tried to prevent herself from shifting her feet, but it was cold, and the wind was biting.

"Come. Sit. I'll cast a Heat spell."

April cautiously stepped over, watching Bellavarn pull out a piece of paper. Flashing, the area around them heated to a more comfortable temperature. The wind objected but was unable to blow within the circumference of the spell.

Notably warmer, April adjusted her clothes and sat down in the snow, holding her knees. She looked at the graves absently, not knowing what to do or say. This was Bellavarn's moment, and he seemed to be lost in it.

She shouldn't have insisted on coming. Had April known he was visiting a graveyard at first, she would have waited at the mansion. Her curiosity kept getting the better of her.

Now she understood why he didn't want to receive her gift. He didn't know what it was but could likely guess. The meaning behind the gift would be sullied by this moment.

Hugging her knees closer, she didn't know how much time passed. It was probably only a few minutes, but it felt ages longer, the silence unbearable.

"You are probably wondering who they are."

She didn't dare speak.

The silence hummed.

Bellavarn breathed out.

"These are Lannie's parents. Jeral's too."

The wind broke in past the barrier, ruffling April's curly hair. Bellavarn snapped another spell scroll, expelling the wind. He replaced his hands in his lap.

"Lannie is a maid. The kindest and most warm-hearted I've ever known. Not a mean bone in her body. She can make friends with anyone and always sees the bright side."

April heard a chirp from the fallen bird's nest.

"Jeral is her brother. A guard. He taught me checkers and somehow always has wise words to say. He's always looking after Lannie, protecting her."

A second bird cry joined the first.

"Their parents never made it to his knighting ceremony and couldn't congratulate Lannie on becoming a maid in a Ducal house."

The cries continued, unanswered.

April's heart clenched.

"Lannie Cross was one of the first to accept me after the world made me a villain. They would be proud to know their little girl grew up to be so sweet and forgiving."

Bellavarn leaned forward, resting a hand on the Astel's gravestone..

"They would be proud that their son still watches over his little sister..."

April sniffed.

The birds went silent.

Bellavarn leaned back, gloved hands holding him up as he watched the puffy clouds glide across the sky.

"They aren't my parents. I know that. But I come here and wonder... Are they still watching? Are they proud?"

April sniffed again, pulling at Bellavarn's sleeve.

"Definitely. Of course they are! You said it yourself. Any parent would wish their child the best."

It was hard to take the words seriously seeing April's face. Bellavarn smiled sullenly, wiping her tears with his free hand.

"The dead don't speak."

"Well. I will speak for them. They say they are proud."

Bellavarn's smile developed into a frown, his eyes drooping as he gazed back at the graves. How could April understand that the names and bodies buried beneath didn't matter? These were his parents. Bellavarn thought he might have gotten to see them in death, but he couldn't have been more wrong. This gentle place and the bodies of strangers gave him a way to speak to his parents after traveling a world away.

Were they wandering that void of endless pain as well? Had they been reborn the same as him? Did they remember him?

Their worthless son who dropped out of school and became a useless, good for nothing, layabout. The pitiable son who wasted his only life and now had to piggyback someone else's. The fragile son who threw away his life after falling for the wrong girl. He threw away all their hard work raising him, providing for him. He forgot to visit their graves...

He felt arms wrap around him. Warmth spread through him as he breathed in a floral perfume.

"April?"

She shook slightly as she held him, her face buried in his shoulder

"You don't have to cry for them. They aren't your parents."

"I know that. Crying would be silly."

April unburied her face and looked up at Bellavarn.

She peeped.

"Then, why are you?"

"..."

Bellavarn felt at his face, his hand coming away wet from silent tears.

"Oh. I didn't realize."

April pulled away, holding him at arm's length.

"I don't understand. I don't. But I do. I do understand."

"Hah~. You're not making any sense."

"I understand you are sad. Not why. But I do. I can feel for them. And you. The story isn't written, but I can sense the sadness. You are sad. I am sad. It is okay to be sad."

"There are other words you can use."

"Crying isn't a bad thing. I cry when a book character dies. I cried when I stubbed my toe. It is okay to cry."

"You are just comforting yourself because you cried when stubbing your toe."

"Do you have to be like this?"

"I can't help it. It is my defense mechanism."

April held Bellavarn's shoulders so he couldn't move or look away. Her green eyes didn't shy away no matter how many words flowed out.

"I know the world judges you. It is a scary place. My parents are so protective they don't let me leave the house; afraid I'll be harmed or I'll contract vicious freckles. I can only work at the library because my father has a job there. I can only go out once a month otherwise. Your home was the first place I got to visit on a regular occasion. I was happy just visiting. Even if my mother hated the idea."

April shook his shoulders when tried looking away, bringing him back.

"But I saw you! You cared for people when they were cursing your name. You fed them when they were starving. You were a hero from the stories. I convinced my parents that you weren't an evil monster like people want to believe. I wanted to meet you. To get to know you."

She sighed at the stupid smile she felt worming onto her face.

"I didn't think you would like books too."

"I like them a bit."

"You like them a lot. But there are other things you love. Like talking with the people around you. Your friends at the mansion. I don't have that. Just books and stories."

Bellavarn gently removed her hands from his shoulders, placing them down.

"You can come over and talk books any time you want. I haven't stopped you, have I?"

April looked down. How did she somehow make this about her? It made her sound conceited.

"No, I didn't mean to say that I am unhappy. Relating is the only way I can communicate. I am not conceited. Really!"

Bellavarn plopped back in the snow, facing the sky. He smirked.

"I know. That was just my defense mechanism talking."

April arched one eyebrow.

"You did that on purpose."

"I don't know, did I?"

April scoffed and fell, lying in the snow as well.

"You are playing with me."

"No, really. Thank you for your kind words. They meant a lot."

She eyed him, but he'd gone back to an unreadable expression. Gazing up at the sky instead, she marveled at how high the clouds soared. Was it possible to land on them and ride them to the next country over? Could she tour the world like that? Watch the world unfold like a book?

Bellavarn wondered if his parents were watching him through those clouds. The obtuse grey shapes drifting over a planet not his own. A reality not his own. Over a body that wasn't his own. Would they care? He would give the world to see them one more time. But he knew even in death it was an impossibility.

"Graveyards can be depressing."

"I think that is why no one is here."

"True."

Comfortable silence reigned as the two watched the clouds form different shapes. The wind shrieked, breaking the barrier of warmth once again. April's hair poked her in the eye, and Bellavarn blocked a tuft of snow from blowing into his face.

"Pfft. Pf. Pfft. Ick. Yuck. It's in my mouth now."

April tried to blow the hair away, but it wormed into her mouth instead. Bellavarn chuckled.

"Alright. We should go before the wind gets really angry."

"Pft. I... Pfft. I think I can live with that."

Bellavarn helped April to her feet, dusting himself off. They faced one another, reevaluating recent revelations.

The wind smacked them across the face.

Screeching, they both ran for the carriage.