Page 8 of Lost Starlight
William’s hobby was baking with or preserving fruit in odd ways. He had been invested in that hobby for quite a few years. His passion, I could not understand, but I was always willing to taste his next recipe. Most of the time, they were delicious.
“I can, but first, I need a little adventure. My story was cut short today.”
“Should you tell your mother that you need longer sessions?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
I frowned at him.
“No. I teased her a little, and she ended the session. I will have to make sure she reads more before I tease her tomorrow.” My desire for adventure and leaving Walden had never been lower. I looked forward to meeting with Lady Darling every morning, more than I did sailing. Very odd, but I was grateful.
“You should not be teasing aDarlingunless—well I guess you can, you are a prince,” he pressed his lips together and placed a hand under his chin. “Father thought she would be a good match for me. But she is much too timid.”
“Too timid? She is sweet.” I defended, irritated. When I saw William raise his eyebrows as if to tease me, I sighed, waving him off. “Never mind, William.” I patted a hand on his back. “Do you want to sail? You still have much to learn if you wish to be a Navy captain.” William’s family’s land consisted of acres and acres of fruit orchards. He loved them, but his father desperately wanted him to make something more of himself than becoming a baker and a farmer. His father reminded him countless times that such work was for the hired help, not for an heir of their duchy.
“It is an earned, prestigious title, and I would welcome it,” William said, standing tall with a blank look upon his face; then once he was done, he huffed.
“You mean, your father would accept it for now?” I said flicking his nose, then darting away so he couldn’t reach me. His arm reached out too late to catch me; then he touched his nose, winced, and glared at me.
“Indeed, it would pacify him for a time. Perhaps, he will live forever, and I will have no need to claim the Duchy, I do have a younger brother–”
“Samuel? You think he would be a better Duke?” I chuckled. Samuel was only three years younger, and already untrustworthy and a fool by anyone’s standards.
“Yes, yes, I know. However, my father will have a choice–let the new Duke be me, someone who likes to get their hands dirty–or my brother, who cannot be trusted with a silver coin.”
“And in the meantime, you become a captain?”
“It will distract father from my shameful leisure activities,” he said with an eye roll.
I smiled. Those “shameful activities” involved making delicious food from their plentiful fruit trees, and other farmlands.
“So, come practice. If you want me to make you a captain, you need to learn,” I said, wrapping one arm around his shoulders. He flicked my nose, and I stepped away, dropping my arm to cup my nose. It was always more painful than I expected when he hit my nose. I should choose a different game to play.
“I know how to be one—” he started with a laugh at my discomfort.
“You may know the rules, but actually captaining a ship—is completely different, Will,” I said, rubbing the side of my nose. “You are ready for the next step.”
“Fine,” he said with a huff, like a petulant child.
“You know I have no issue with your fruit, by the way, my friend,” I said.
“Thank you. Drying fruit from my family’s orchards is practical and not wasteful. Imagine being on a ship for months and having dried fruit to eat, instead of only flatbreads and grains.”
“That does sound pleasant.”
“See, very useful,” William said, looking satisfied.
“Sure, it is useful. And so is learning to sail. Shall we, so you can be the captain of the best-fed crew on all the Seas?”
“Let’s. The sooner we sail, the sooner I can check on the fruit.”
I saw that he had something sticking out of his jacket pocket. Swiping it away, I ran down the path to the docks. As I reached them, I saw that the item was one of his fruit leathers. I smelled it—it smelled like peaches. I frowned.
“Peach,” Will said, nearly breathless with a smirk as he reached me at the docks a few moments later. “I know your tricks, Peter.”
I tossed the offending fruit leather at him, and he chuckled.
“It isn’t my fault you dislike peaches. There may be something wrong with you.”
“Come on—let’s go,” I said, ignoring him. “I want a strawberry one when we get back.”
