Thinking

[Arithon]

Standing before the elegantly worked stone of the south portico, Arithon savored the warmth emanating from the heavy mug of coffee wrapped in his hands. As he looked out through the clear night air to the wavering line of limber ash trees in the distance, Ari mulled thoughts and emotions like a blacksmith patiently working his steel. But tonight, unlike other nights, his thoughts failed to solidify, his imagination never quite making the necessary leaps to come to a conclusion. Starting from a clear, cold point his mind would wander with increasing aimlessness until, with a start, he would realize that his only thought was of some trivial aspect of PJ's sweet, alarming, amazing, frightening presence in Loiselle.

A man who shirked neither his duties or his pleasures, Ari nonetheless found himself enchanted by PJ. The darkling ride over smooth roads to Loiselle, the increasingly lighthearted conversation, the exhilarating feel of being abroad in the night with an intriguing friend, the novel experience of sharing his joy in his home with someone whose approval he actually desired; all conspired to bring up in Ari's remembrance a flood of feelings little experienced in his life.

He pondered whether she would return. He smiled, remembering how she had slept by his side, her head resting on his shoulder in the ultimate expression of trust. His outriders had alerted him as soon as PJ left the house in the hours before sunset, but despite his dominating manner the evening before in the Arena, he had no wish to make PJ a prisoner. Having let her go, the Comte de Loiselle, master of all he surveyed, stood like a schoolboy waiting for Father Christmas and waited for the sound of hooves on stone, hoping for the distant call of the watch towers; longing for a change.