Chapter 14 of As Mountains Yet Unseen is now up! Brief pause is over, we'll be back to every other week publishing now.
Emmrich caught Isolde as she was emerging from the kitchen. The mission Rook had gone off on must have been a short oneâperhaps eager, Isolde thought with amusement, to eat Lucanisâs cooking while it was still hot.
âAh, Isolde!â Emmrich said.
His posture caught Isoldeâs attention. Even as he threw his shoulders back more than usual, there was a distinct nervousness to how he held himself. Heâd folded his hands in front of him, but they were animated with many, minute motions, as if he wanted to fidget.
âI found an opera that I think youâd find very interesting. Would you care to join me this weekend?â Emmrich asked. His voice had an uncharacteristic nervousness to it.
âI donât have anything fine enough to wear,â Isolde said.
âThe outfit you wore to Mala Dirth would be plenty fine enough, I believe, if you wore your hair in a more elaborate style.â
Isolde looked at the ground, cheeks flaming.
âI donât know how to do that,â she admitted in a small voice.
Emmrichâs face visibly fell.
âMaybe if there was, um, a play that you wanted to see instead?â Isolde offered feebly.
Emmrichâs relief was palpable. âIf attire is your only objection⌠I have some knowledge of braiding hair. If you wouldnât mind that I did it?â
âItâd probably be a waste of your time,â Isolde said pessimistically, pinching a strand between her fingers. âI mean, itâs not as if⌠My hair isnât very, umâŚâ
There had never been a time her hair looked particularly good. It had always been plain. A poor color, a poor texture, and frequently in disarrayâsheâd never been able to get it to look attractive the way that others managed.
âItâs hard to improve upon something already so lovely,â Emmrich said.
Isoldeâs eyes darted to his face, automatically searching for signs of irony, of the joke at her expense. But of course, this was Emmrich: there was a faint blush on his cheeks, and his eyes were fully earnest.
âThereâs no lovelier shade in the sunlight,â Emmrich said softly. âAt sunset, it glows like a warm coal.â
He liked her hair? Her stomach squirmed with pleasure, almost eclipsed by an odd, intense embarrassment.
Emmrich looked flustered, his blush worsening, but didnât take it back.
Curiosity got the better of Isolde.
âCould you show me? What it would look like,â Isolde asked.
Emmrich lit up at the request. âOf course.â
He guided them to his rooms, seating Isolde in front of his vanity. Isolde didnât even look at her reflection before averting her eyes from the mirror. To see her face framed by the ornately carved wood of Emmrichâs furniture⌠Isolde tucked her hands under her legs, shoulders hunching a little.
Emmrich began by brushing out her hair, with strokes so gentle that it felt little like when she did it herself. Light fingers ran through her hair, first arranging it to fall a certain way, then sectioning out pieces, which he secured with pins. Her scalp tingled pleasantly where he touched; the brush of his fingers was so light that it practically felt like he was stroking her hair.
It was impossible, in that moment, not to think of her mother. Her mother had brushed and done Isoldeâs hair any number of times, but sheâd always yanked, pulling out knots from Isoldeâs hair by force. Whenever sheâd divided it into sections, itâd been hard enough that Isolde always winced. Theyâd both been relieved when Isolde became old enough to manage everything herself.
Emmrichâs gentle touch made Isoldeâs heart flutter. She found herself leaning into it.
Her shoulder blades bumped against his belly; sheâd tipped back too far. Isolde froze, alarmed. Her eyes warily flicked up to Emmrichâs reflection, gauging his reaction.
Emmrichâs mouth was curved up in a smile around the pins in his mouth. There was an intended nonchalance to how he held himself, but not enough to cover up how distinctly pleased he was. A faint pink colored his cheeks again.
The tension went out of Isoldeâs back. She let her eyes close, focusing on Emmrichâs touch. Whenever he picked out a new section to work on, the brush of his hand against her scalp felt almost like a caress.
After several minutes, Emmrich guided Isolde to sit up a bit more. He worked on the back of her head, busily moving strands here and there, pinning them into place. She watched him work through the mirror, admiring the way he moved. Competent. Assured.
âThere,â Emmrich said, and rested his hands proudly on her shoulders.
Reluctantly, Isolde turned her gaze to her own reflection. She froze, eyes flicking rapidly over the image.
It did look elegant. Like Elven royalty, if such a thing existed. A crown of braids circled her head like a coronet, their ends cascading free. Isolde turned her head, disbelieving. The style changed her, somehowâtransforming her plain, awkward face and hair into something that looked delicate.
She looked⌠like a woman, instead of a malformed scarecrow. Her eyes prickled with a strange, unexpected urge to cry.
âDo you like it?â Emmrich said, looking critically over the braids with a little frown. âI know itâs not as even as it should be, Iâm afraid my experience is a bit limitedââ
Isolde turned to him. When their eyes met, Emmrich stopped speaking mid-word. He visibly stared at her, his lips parted.
Isolde could appreciate the sentiment; the transformation was shocking.
âYes,â Isolde said, trying not to cry. âI really like it. Thank you.â
There was a pause where Emmrich failed to say anything in response, looking at her so intently that he didnât blink. He cleared his throat.
âSo the opera is a possibility, then?â he asked.
His attempt at a light tone failed to cover his rabid and nervous interest in her answer.
âYes. Iâll come with you,â Isolde said.
Emmrich grinned. âExcellent, excellent!â
Isolde smiled tentatively at him. The rising tide of his enthusiasm halted. His hand came to rest, featherlight, under her chin. He leaned in slowly, kissing her lightly, his mouth soft against hers.
Isoldeâs heart fluttered again. She kept him from moving away, stealing a second kiss.
When Emmrich pulled back, it was with clear delight; he couldnât seem to stop smiling.
âIâm greatly looking forward to it,â Emmrich said, beaming, and wandered away humming.
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