Page 46 of Honeythorn
“Right, come here, look at this one…” Fiona said, turning to Lord Raphael again. He threw Milan a small smile and followed her, Milan trailing behind, his hand in Raphael’s as he listened to the two of them discuss how they would cut the trees into stumps and use the roots to enrich the earth before the next harvest.
This seemed to set the theme for the day. Much like that afternoon many weeks ago, when Milan had accompanied Lord Raphael on his rounds, Milan would listen until he couldn’t keep still anymore, and then burst out with a few questions before falling silent again. Instead of glaring, however, Lord Raphael looked a little uncomfortable but managed to keep his expression friendly, if not a little blank.
Milan was exhausted by the time they rode back to the manor and yet felt lively with the adventure.
“Don’t you get sad when they butcher so many pigs in winter?” Milan asked as they stepped inside the manor hand-in-hand.
Raphael tilted his head slightly. “I used to get very upset when I was a child, and there was a year that I refused to eat any meat. But when I realised how vital it was for the survival of people in winter—especially the cured ham—it changed my mind. It’s a necessity, and the pigs have a good life until then.”
“Hmm. I guess.”
“Why? Do you want to abstain from pork this winter?” Lord Raphael asked, a knowing smile on his face.
“Well, no, but…oh, I wish I hadn’t seen their faces.”
Lord Raphael chuckled. He had done that a lot today. “It’s good to appreciate where your food comes from.”
“Not if it’s cute,” Milan grumbled. Raphael shook his head.
“Shall we go to the library? I believe the fire should be lit.”
“Oh, please. My toes are ice.”
“A wonder, with the fifteen pairs of socks you have on.”
“It’s only two! I would like to see you survive in the heat of the South.” Milan sniffed.
Lord Raphael pretended to shudder. “Please don’t threaten me.”
Milan snorted. “Keep that in mind before you make fun of my furs.”
“I shall.”
The rest of the day was spent tranquilly, and they remained in good humour through dinner, talking even as they retired to Milan’s room despite having spent so much of the day speaking to each other.
“Were you always interested in harvesting? Or were you forced upon it by your title?” Milan asked, a hand over his tummy, feeling stuffed after the particularly good stew that had been served.
“I was always interested.” Lord Raphael opened the door to Milan’s chambers and they both stepped inside, hands linked between them.
“I could never get the hang of it. It requires too much patience,” Milan said.
“In a way. I just like…there is something magical about it, I find. You need to let go of control—nature will do what it will. You can only help it along. It can be freeing, to work together with something so grand.”
Milan stared at him, both of them standing in the middle of the room now, looking at each other.
Lord Raphael shuffled awkwardly. “I’ll go get ready for bed, then.”
Milan looked at him. “I think we should share a bed tonight.”
Lord Raphael opened his eyes wide, taking a step back, although he did not let go of Milan’s hand. Milan flushed.
“I didn’t mean it like that! I meant—I know how uncomfortable it must be to sleep in that chair every night, even stuffed as it is. It’s ridiculous—the bed is big enough for four of us.”
Lord Raphael looked down.
Milan bit his lip. “If you are uncomfortable, of course, we don’t have to. I just meant—”
“No, it’s all right. That would be…thank you. But, if at any point you change your mind—”
