Lunch date

The air crackled with the faint static of a lover’s quarrel. The tailor clapped his hands once and nodded firmly. He picked up his swatches, wrote a few notes on a bit of parchment using a stylus. After he finished he turned to the couple and cleared his throat.

“Right, I believe ye two have much ta discuss and I’ve already received enough of an outline to create a suitable wardrobe for the lad’s wedding attire, work attire, and a singular casual outfit. Yer Rebecca’s son, I owe you at least two of those. With what you’ve done against those pirates, the third is on the house as well.Now be on yer way. I've shirts ta sew, and ye've an argument ta finish.” His tone was warm, but firm. Firm enough to let the pair know it was best they leave before he forces them out. Still glowering softly at each other they gave separate thanks and left through his door. The bell gave a second soft chime as they returned to the warm spring air of the island. The humidity wasn’t particularly terrible, which annoyed him further. How could they be fighting on such a nice day was beyond him.

Neither said a word as they walked towards the bakery. The line was fully out the door as usual, it’s chimney spouting smoke into the sky like the haze off of an oversized pipe. Wilkes heard a stomach growl and thought it was his own. Beatrice made a hmmph noise and turned away when he glanced at her. So she was moody and hungry… he could fix one of those. He stood in line with her, occasionally stretching his hand out for it to be held. She continued to remain in proximity but ignored his attempts to placate. That was until they made it to the counter. Hannah smiled at them softly with a quick wave. She continued to make the loaves by batches while Alice slaved away at the till. The younger girl seemed to be having mixed feelings about her apprenticeship under her sister. There was nothing Wilkes could do to help her out. A few more customers placed their orders and shuffled off after they were baked. When they finally made it to place their own orders, Beatrice spoke first.

“Two raspberry scones, a single apple tart, and three loaves please.” Beatrice glanced at him with a smug grin. Alice nodded and quickly repeated the order to her older sister, Hannah’s brow furrowed as she ran amuck to mix those specific doughs together. Wilkes looked confused as Beatrice waltzed off to leave him with the bill. She sat at a table just outside the door that was bathed in direct sunlight. She looked gorgeous washed in the radiance.

“35 pieces please.” Alice chirped at him. Wilkes swallowed hard and shilled out the coin. He’d pull extra shifts to make up for this, and probably work through a night or two to fully recover. The one thing he wouldn’t do is let her little tantrum go unanswered. She knew his finances but was still acting like the princess of the island. Even if she was technically just as noble as Dortas, it didn’t excuse her acting that way while upset. He put a strained smile on and joined her at the table she had sauntered off to. He sat down quietly, the smile never fading. Even if he was glaring rather than smiling with his eyes, the majority would be none the wiser.

“Two raspberry scones and a apple tart? Quite the sweet tooth today.” Wilkes teased her as calmly as she could.

“Sorry Willy, was that out of your price range?” She used the nickname she knew he hated. Clearly he had pissed her off. Why was she trying to piss him off? How productive was this?

“For you, nothing short of the moon is out of my price range. Even then I’d haggle for it.” He responded as sweetly as he could manage. He saw the princess facade crack at the sincerity in his voice. Beatrice redoubled with a haughty laugh and a firm nod.

“As you should.” She responded, folding her arms over her chest. She pouted slightly before putting that same smug grin back on as their requested items rang up. He walked back to the counter and brought them over in a small basket. Her princess routine was still in full swing. She plucked the three fruit pastries out and scarfed them down before he even got to try a bite. Normally he would be annoyed by that, but now that he’d seen through it he’d play his own game.

“Did you like those? Should I get you more?” Wilkes asked softly. Her composure cracked for a moment. She scrunched her face in confusion. The princess vanished for the briefest heartbeat. Beneath the haughty grin sat a confused nineteen-year-old girl who'd expected him to stop trying by now. He’d heard from Erik about this sudden personality change before. She was trying to convince him into calling off the courtship. Like hell that’d work. He leaned over and wiped a crumb from the corner of her mouth, smiling at her as he licked the tiny morsel off his thumb.

When no response came he simply broke the first of the three small loaves in half, setting the smaller one in front of himself and the larger before her. He nibbled happily on the soft sustenance. He chewed leisurely, watching her pout and stare off to the side. He swallowed before speaking.

“I get that you’re upset. I get that you think we should throw in the towel after the first major bit of fighting. I disagree. If we never fought one of us would have to be lying the entire time. C’mon let me show you something, out at the stream.” Wilkes spoke with an amused tone. He had decided he was going to show his magic to her. Hiding it was only going to delay the inevitable. She wanted to end things, then he’d at least show her everything about himself in the plainest view. Scooping up the basket, he took her by the hand while she still chewed on her bread. He tugged her up and out of the chair. The walk to the forest took as long as it’d seemed. To passersby it seemed they were off to go on a picnic in the woods. Some of the older women cooed about how much of a gentleman he’d become.

She followed him cluelessly to the spot they had fought briefly here. Where his shirt had been thrown over her face. He smiled fondly at the memory, staring at her nervously. He admittedly was getting cold feet now that he was on the cusp of it all. Butterflies had morphed into a hurricane in his stomach. His heart raced enough he could feel his pulse in his fingertips, he tried to speak but his mouth was impossibly dry.

“Wilkes… you’re not going to end our courtship are you?” Beatrice asked, she shifted from one foot from the other rapidly. Her eyes were dilated while staring at him. There was a rapid shifting between fear and anxiety in those eyes.

“What? No, no I just uh, I have something to show you.” he said nervously. He took her hands into his own. After a short breath he told her the truth “I uh, I know a little bit of magic.”

“I mean you’re good with your tongue, but not that good.” She snorted at what she thought was a joke. He sighed nervously before letting go of one of her hands. He stretched his hand out to the horizon, the split of the trees stretching out to the horizon.

“It’s easier if I just, For the sake of freedom. Surge along my chosen path. Strong Gust.” He spoke with conviction, a massive burst of wind launched towards the horizon. The water rippled and parted slightly, the grass on the edges bent in the breeze. Beatrice stared at his hand afterward.

“... You cast a spell?” She asked him

“I did.” He admitted sheepishly, she slinked her other hand out of his and took a small step back.

“Okay. Uhm, how long have you been casting spells?” Her voice seemed slightly nervous, but he gave her as reassuring of a look as he could muster

“Uh, about two weeks? The first magic thing I did was actually during the right of Testero you gave me. Got knocked into the stream by Rangpar and the water healed my smaller scrapes and bruises.” he explained, showing her a lack of scars on parts of his body.

“Uh huh. So, you’ve got magic. While Erik has been losing sleep over learning magic. Have you… told him?” Beatrice studied him harder

“No…” Wilkes admitted timidly

“Why not?” She seemed genuinely annoyed. That was one hell of a loaded question. He had no strong answer for it. Just a notion that he could have shared about it. Erik had been obsessive with few things to this degree. None of which had been healthy. He wouldn’t go sharing his closest friends' skeletons, but that information was the only possible answer.

“Erik can be… obsessive. If he knew magic, or that I knew magic, right now he’d forget everything else in the pursuit of it. He’d scheme about hunting the Tide Reapers with me. In the same way that if I told him about it, I’d do the same.” Wilkes admitted. A natural wind breezed past, their hair tossed gently. He gave her a sad smile. “ You said I would leave one day, right after we started seeing each other with new eyes. I knew it was true, but I reject it honestly. I want to be with you. I want this to work. Magic or not.”

“That’s… a lot to take in. I mean, I get it on a surface level. You two were always of the same mind and narrow sightedness when you focus. That was what caused you both to sneak off to fight the pirates, but Wilkes. You have magic. That’s amazing.” Beatrice looked at him wide eyed. She seemed to register something then spoke slowly, almost strained. “You have… real magic. You can control the wind.”

“I mean, control is a big leap from making a single gust, but yeah sort of.”

“You can control the wind, and you know how to sail. You could go… anywhere.”

“In theory, but I have limits. I get kinda light headed after casting it five times successively, and I haven’t figured out any other incantations.”

“Wilkes, what do you know about the tide reapers besides them being pirates. I read my dad’s notes once…” She trailed off, staring at him uneasily.

“Not much, besides them killing my mom.”

“They killed rangpar’s entire clan too, except for mom anyway. Because they could use magic similar to yours and wouldn’t join. What if they weren’t just raiding the village.” She spoke slowly, a look of horror on her face. Wilkes's stomach turned hard. Slamming into his ribs and flinging his insides like leaves in the wind. He remembered the captain shouting about a quarry they searched for. Something they needed to uproot the whole island for if necessary.

“No. No. No. They didn’t come here for me. They woulda tried to capture me the second time if they did.” He rationalized, his hand ran through his hair repeatedly. The usually calming gesture did nothing. Realization was creeping in alongside dread again.

“The second time? What do you mean the second time.” Wilkes froze. He swallowed hard and stammered for a second. She firmly grabbed Wilkes by the shoulders and repeated herself. “What do you mean the second time Wilkes?”

“When I’d been lost to the frenzy, they’d boarded the gracious pearl. Not the blue bandanas, this group was yellow. They were amateurs by comparison. But their lieutenant I think had been looking for me by description.” Wilkes's mouth was dry as he spoke. “But that was just from rumors, I didn’t use any magic. I didn’t even know any spells then. It was all instinctive stuff, not repeatable.”

“Wilkes… it was either you or Meryl they were looking for. And oracles aren’t that rare around here, not from what I’ve heard from dad anyway.” Beatrice spoke softly. He shoved her off of him and took a few stumbling steps towards the stream. He wretched a few times, dry heaving at the bank. Nothing came up, air couldn’t stay down. He stared at his reflection in the relatively calm water. It was his fault. His vision swam as his reflection blurred. If they’d come looking for him, then they would’ve turned the village over while he was gone. If that was why they were there, that was why his mother died. Then it was his fault his mother died. That Hannah’s father died. That the number of widows stayed at three despite everything. He continued to draw those ragged breaths, his stomach demanding to launch its contents upwards. He refused to allow it. His will slammed against his panic like a wave on the shore. He stuck his hands into the cool water and splashed some on his face.

“No. If they were looking for me, they wouldn’t have killed my mother if they knew her name. They would’ve been capturing people. They came to plunder and plunder they did.” Wilkes refuted the argument aloud. He wiped the excess water away and slowly rose to his feet.

“I believe you, but you need to tell Erik about your magic. He deserves to know as much, no, more than I do.” Beatrice pressed him on the matter.

“Yeah, I’ll get there when I get there. I only know one spell and it only works like a tool. Not like a weapon or a shield.” He explained,

“You don’t see how a massive gust of wind could be a weapon or a tool? I’ve shot too few arrows at you then.” Beatrice mused while pursing her lips slightly. He quirked an eyebrow at her. “A wind like that would move any arrow off course Wilkes.”

“Huh… all I’d done was use it to fill the dinghy’s sail for fishing.” He admitted to her. She rolled her eyes at him. “I have wanted to try to learn some water magic, but the books here are about theory rather than spell craft.”

“Then speak with Erik and put your heads together on how to be part of the next mercantile voyage. Getting to the mainland would help you find something you’re looking for. Not that you don’t already know that.” She spoke plainly with him, she took the admission of magic surprisingly well. An awkward smile on his face as he walked up to her slowly. He placed a quick peck on her cheek. She remained rigid at his touch. Beatrice stared at him for a long moment. Not at his hand. Not at the spot where the wind had torn across the stream. At him. The same way she had when she first found him bleeding in the woods. The same way she had when she had hunted him across the island. Like she was trying to understand a creature that should have been impossible. “Wilkes.”

“What?” He looked at her more closely. She seemed annoyed again.

“Do you even hear yourself?”

“What do ye mean?” His brow furrowed.

“You just told me you can use magic. You told me your best friend has spent months trying to learn something you can do naturally.” She stepped closer. “And your first thought was to use it to make fishing easier.”

“Well… yea?” Wilkes blinked. For a moment she just stared. Then, despite everything, she laughed. Not loudly. Not mockingly. Just a small disbelieving laugh as she covered her face.

“Gods above, you really are impossible.”

“I don’t see the issue.”

“That is the issue.”

She lowered her hands.

“You don't think you're special.”

Wilkes opened his mouth, then closed it. Because he knew better than to lie. He took a deep breath and lied anyway. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” The answer came immediately. That made him look away. Beatrice noticed. “Wilkes.”

“I’m just a sailor.”

“You are a sailor who learned magic without a teacher.”

“I got lucky.”

“You survived a pirate attack that killed people twice your age.”

“Lucky twice.”

“You fought a Tide Reaper lieutenant.”

“Desperately and because three other people fought the rest!”

“You learned a spell that can move the wind itself.”

“Because it was a useful tool.”

“There it is.” Her eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“That. You keep making everything smaller.” The words struck harder than he expected. She pressed a finger to his chest as she continued to rant “You took a miracle and turned it into a fishing trick.”

“Because I don’t want it to be more! I don’t want my life to be given away to some responsibility I never asked for. If I do this, if I chase this whale, I will be someone you can’t love anymore. All I ever wanted was to settle down and have the full kind of family my mom had to give up. What’s so wrong with wanting to be normal!” He shouted at her and the stream gurgled against itself, the water moving irregularly as his hands swung while he spoke.

Beatrice didn't answer immediately. That was worse. Wilkes could handle anger. Anger he understood. Anger was simple. Anger was a blade held openly. Silence was what doomed him. What made her drift exactly how he hoped she never would.

The stream behind him continued to twist strangely, small currents flowing against the natural direction. Leaves floated upstream before realizing their mistake and drifting back down. It swirled against itself into whirlpools that choked each other before fading. Beatrice looked at the water. Then at him. Then at his hands.

"Wilkes."

"What?" His jaw tightened, teeth creaking slightly under the strain.

"Look at your hands."

He glanced down. His fingers were trembling. Not from fear, but the effort of holding something back. The wind around them was restless. Not violent. Not dangerous. Just anxious. Like him.

"I don't want to be like this," he muttered. Beatrice's expression softened.

"I know."

The answer surprised him enough that he looked up.

"You do?"

"Of course."

She stepped closer. Close enough that her breath tickled his face slightly as she stared at him longingly. Like a ship returning to a port it hadn’t visited in years.

"You think I don't understand?" Her voice was quieter now. "You think I look at you and see some grand hero from a storybook? Some chosen warrior destined to save the world?" Wilkes didn't answer. Because part of him feared the answer. Beatrice shook her head. "I see a boy who lost his mother. A boy who buried people he loved. A boy who keeps waking up expecting the next person he cares about to be taken away."

The wind died to a low whistle while he stared at her intensely. Like if he blinked she’d be gone.

"You don't want magic.” She reached out slowly. Her hand brushing against his still twitching fingers. "You want peace. And you think if you admit you're something more than a fisherman, peace disappears."

Wilkes swallowed. "Because it does."

"No."

"Bea-"

"No." The firmness in her voice stopped him. She tapped his chest while drawing in even closer. An arm slinking around his neck in a loose embrace. "You keep acting like the world only gives you two choices."

"Be a normal sailor and ignore everything. Or become some weapon everyone points at their enemies." She shook her head and gave his chest another tap. "Those aren't the only options."

Wilkes stared at her.

"What other option is there?"

"You." Beatrice smiled at him sadly “Just, being you.”

"Me?" His confusion was palpable. That statement had confused him more than anything else.

"Aye. You." She looked toward the stream. "You learned magic and your first thought was not 'how do I hurt someone? It was 'how do I catch fish?'" Her eyes returned to him. A small smile tugged at her mouth. "You have no idea how ridiculous that is."

Despite himself, Wilkes almost laughed. Almost.

"You could have become anything." She squeezed his hand. "And you chose to become useful."