Half Past Ten in the Rose Garden by grey_gazania

---

Chapter 1

Inspired by the Silmfic Prompt Generator: ‘I would find where she keeps her mouth, meet it with mine, press my hand against her palm and see if our fingers match.’ - Amal El-Mohtar, ‘Song for an Ancient City’

---

"I'll be home late," I tell my mother as I'm packing up for work. Swatting Tyelko's hands away, I add an extra helping of the dumplings I made yesterday to my lunch bag; Parmë loves them and I know she can't cook for beans. "I'm meeting a friend for dinner."

 

"Aw, don't take them all," he complains. "How much does your imaginary friend eat, anyway?"

 

I roll my eyes — that joke got old years ago — but otherwise ignore him. To think that he wonders why I've never introduced the two of them.

 

"Tyelko, don't pick on your brother," Ammë calls from her studio. "Carnistir, have a good time."

 

"I will," I say, popping my head in. She smiles and waves, and I set out, wincing when the door slams shut behind me. I keep forgetting that Atto fixed that sticky hinge, and Ammë hates slammed doors.

 

I like working afternoons better than evenings. I finish just in time for supper, so meeting up with Parmë is easy. The vendors are closed by then, but I bring some of whatever I've cooked lately, she brings bread and cheese or vegetables from her little garden, and between the two of us we have a nice meal. Today starts out no differently; Aicórë and I finish up the accounts for the law firm next door and I meet Parmë by the fountain. It's not until after we've eaten that things deviate from the usual pattern.

 

"It's so nice out," Parmë says, stretching her arms behind her. "Want to go walk in the garden for a bit?"

 

"Sure." The city gardens are gorgeous at this time of year, with the roses and lilies in full bloom, and they won't be crowded, not this late at night. I offer her my hand and pull her up, waiting while she slips her shoes back on, and then wrap my arm around her shoulders. The gardens aren't far at all, and we walk in silence as we bask in the beauty of the flowers. That's one of the things I like about Parmë; she doesn't feel the need to chatter all the time. Like me, she knows how to appreciate quiet.

 

There are plenty of little nooks with benches and ivy-covered trellises scattered throughout, and she pulls me over to sit on one, resting her head on my shoulder. "I don't feel like going home yet," she says with a little laugh. "It's too beautiful out tonight."

 

"Yeah.” I pause. Swallow. Take her hand in mine, matching our fingertips together and studying her delicate bones. I love her so much, it's sometimes hard to find words, or at least words that don't sound ridiculous. I'm no poet, and I want to sit here with you forever is so overdramatic as to be worthy of Makalaurë.

 

“Will you marry me?“ I blurt out.

 

Parmë blinks, mouth open, and her shock is like a pre-dawn plunge into the ocean. "Y-yes,” she stammers. “Yes, I would. I will.”

 

Then my arms are around her, our lips meeting in a tentative kiss. It's a little sloppy, but that maybe isn’t surprising, since I don't think either of us have much experience. I sure don't. But it's nice – her lips are soft and warm and she smells like vanilla and old parchment, sweet and familiar.

 

I pull away suddenly when I realize something. "Rings,“ I say, feeling like a fool. "I can’t believe I just proposed without rings.”

 

“Did…you even talk to your parents?” Parmë squeaks.

 

“Er…” I cough. “Um. No. I should probably do that as well.”

 

She laughs shakily. "I love you, Carnistir. Even when you don’t think things through.“

 

"I don’t think they’ll object,” I protest. “It’s not like there’s something wrong with you— No, I don’t mean it like that!” I groan and drop my head into my hands. Why did this have to be so difficult? “I mean you're—” Basically perfect in every way. No, I couldn’t say that. “You’re you. And I love you. So there’s nothing for any reasonable person to object to. My parents are reasonable people, right?”

 

“I don’t know,” Parmë says. “Seeing as I’ve never actually met them.”

 

“Oh, hell. I have to introduce you to my family. I have to introduce you to my brothers. I have to introduce you to Tyelko.” I groan again. Tyelkormo is an immature idiot about girls. Why Irissë tolerates him, I will never know.

 

Parmë pats my arm. “It’s– It’s okay. They’re your parents; I’m sure they want you to be happy.”

 

My heart gives a funny sort of lurch. Stunned and nervous and wrong-footed as Parmë is, not even having met my oddball family yet, and she's still trying to comfort me.

 

“I love you,” I say, a little softer. “Let me walk you home? Just– don’t say anything to Amarië. Not yet.”

 

“I’m not saying a word to anyone, Carnistir. Not till you’ve talked to your parents. I won't be fodder for anybody's gossip unless I absolutely have to be.” She presses her lips together and crosses her arms, taut like a bowstring. "I won't be the woman who got rejected by the royal family for not being good enough."

 

She's scared, I realize, scared of what being engaged to me might mean. Scared of what people will say. "That won't happen," I insist. "I'm going to marry you, and I don't care what anybody else says about it. Except you, obviously."

 

This is turning out to be about as romantic as filing taxes. I feel like such an idiot.

 

"Look," I say, holding her close once more. "Let me walk you home. I'll talk to my parents in the morning, and then tomorrow I'll tell you what they say." I kiss her hair and feel her relax a little in my arms. "It'll be okay. I promise."

 

"I hope so," she murmurs. "I do love you."

 

"I know." I've known for years; I've just been waiting until we're both of age to say anything about it. But it turns out this romance thing is a lot harder than it looks. "And I love you. But let's get you home, okay?"

 

***********

 

After I walk her to the rooms she shares with Amarië, I find myself back in the city gardens, wandering, lost in thought. It's well past the mingling of the lights when I finally make it home. I ease the back door shut, hoping that everyone is asleep, and turn to find Ammë and Atto standing in the hall doorway waiting for me.

 

Damn.

 

“A bit late, isn’t it, Moryo?” Atto says, his arms crossed over his chest. Ammë's hands are on her hips, her head cocked to one side, both of them looking very unhappy. I must have worried them badly, and I feel a sudden rush of guilt.

 

Time to make it worse. I wet my lips and hesitate before croaking out, “I need rings. I’m engaged. I think.”

 

Stunned silence. Then they both speak at once.

 

“What do you mean, you think?”

 

“To whom?”

 

“I don't have rings,” I say, answering Atto’s question first. “But she said yes, so we’re still engaged, right? Even without the rings?”

 

“Of course you are,” Ammë says, suddenly soothing, and I can tell that she sees my worry plain. Atto's eyebrows rise to his hairline as she speaks. "But to whom, Carnistir?"

 

"Parmë. My friend from the archives. I met her for dinner and then we went for a walk in the gardens and I wasn't planning to ask her today but it just sort of slipped out and—" I'm babbling, and I force myself to stop and take a few deep breaths. "I really did mean to talk to you first."

 

They're both shocked, I can tell, though they're trying their best to hide it. Ammë rallies first. "I think we need to meet this young woman," she says. "Not that I doubt she's as wonderful as you say she is, but we can't sit by and watch our son marry a stranger, can we?"

 

Atto shakes his head. "Invite her to dinner sometime next week. We'll meet her, I can make rings—"

 

"You mean I can make rings," I interject. "I'm the one getting married." I can feel him bristle a little, and I know what he'll say — don't I want them to be perfect? — but Ammë silences him with a look.

 

"Rings will be made," she says firmly. "We can work out the details tomorrow. It's late. Right now we all need sleep." But she smiles wide and holds out her arms to me, hugging me close. "I'm happy for you, Carnistir. We both are."

 

And they really are. I can tell.