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Bronte had finally had enough.
It was a decision he made while watching his fellow Councillor lying face-down on the floor, sprawled out in the center of his living room, complaining mercilessly about his love life. As the only Councillor who wouldn’t immediately accuse him of treason over the fact that he even had a love life, he was used to it, but enough was enough.
Kenric had been complaining for nearly twenty minutes at this point, lying in the middle of Bronte’s floor. And if the ranting wasn’t bad enough, the fact that his face was pressed in the carpet made all his words muffled and hard to hear. Bronte was getting a headache already from attempting to listen, and he knew these soliloquy sessions could go on for at least an hour before Kenric realized that he was wasting everyone’s time.
“And her eyes,” Kenric was saying, his voice taking on that dreamy tone it only did when he talked about Oralie. “They’re so beautiful. Did you know they have flecks of silver in them?”
“No, I did not,” Bronte answered. “Because I don’t make a habit of staring into Oralie’s eyes.”
Kenric didn’t seem to hear or care. “She smiled at me today,” he continued. “And her smile is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s like… like I didn’t know what lovely looked like until the first time she smiled at me, and every time it happens, my heart melts a little more.”
Oh, no, Bronte thought. Kenric was about to cry. He always got poetic before he cried.
“And that dress.” Kenric shook his head, his voice beginning to choke up. “The color went so well with her hair, and it complimented her figure so well, but she didn’t even seem to notice how pretty she looked-”
“I’m going to stop you right there.” Bronte kneeled down next to Kenric, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “And I’m going to wait until you look up.”
After a second of hesitation, Kenric pushed himself up from the floor, looking as disheveled as ever. The pattern in the carpet was pressed into his face, and his wild red hair was messier than normal. In any other circumstance, Bronte would have made fun of him, but it didn’t seem appropriate at the moment.
“Why don’t you just tell Oralie how you feel?” he asked, shrugging. “Then things will be out in the open between you.” And I won’t have to listen to you rant about how hopeless your love life is, he mentally added.
Kenric gave him a look. “You know why.”
Bronte sighed. He did know why. He knew exactly why Kenric was hesitating so much to tell Oralie how he felt about her. Kenric wasn’t a shy person, especially around Oralie. Bronte knew that if it hadn’t been for the circumstances, he would have already pranced over to her castle with a big bouquet of flowers and declared his undying love. But there was one major problem with that plan: They were Councillors. And Councillors weren’t allowed to be in love. That had been the subject of many of Kenric’s rants, but in the end, they always shifted to how sweet or smart or pretty she was and he didn’t dwell on the subject.
“It’s hopeless,” Kenric said with a sigh. “I don’t want to drag her into trouble. Especially if she’s not-” He cut himself off, shaking his head. He’d been over the exact same woes many times, a fact which he just seemed to be realizing. “I guess I’ll just try to hide it as long as possible.”
“You realize she’s an Empath, right? Meaning she can feel your emotions?”
Kenric glared at him as he replied, “Of course I realize that. But one time she told me that reading love is one of the most difficult emotions for an Empath, and that friendship and love can easily be mistaken for one another. So I’ll just hope she only senses our friendship when we’re together. Because she is my friend, after all. I have to keep reminding myself of that.”
Bronte had to bite his tongue. Even though he pretended that he couldn’t care less about the status of Oralie and Kenric’s relationship, it wasn’t quite the truth. He badly wanted to tell Kenric what she had said to him the other day, which he knew would make Kenric blush and stutter and grin.
But Oralie had sworn him to secrecy.
FLASHBACK- THREE DAYS EARLIER
“Bronte?” a familiar whisper entered his ear. Bronte would never admit it, but he had to hold back a smile. Oralie was probably the only person in the world who could approach him without direct invitation and not receive a scowl.
“Yeah?” he replied, turning around. Oralie stood next to him, her brow creased with a frown. She glanced over at the other three Councillors in the room, Darek, Clarette and Ramira, all in a very intense argument over where the new plant for their office should be placed.
“Can I talk to you about something?” she asked, fidgeting with the material of her dress. Bronte felt himself frowning as well. Oralie wasn’t a huge talker, and if she wanted to talk to him, it must be something serious.
“Okay,” he answered, facing her and preparing to listen.
Oralie looked at the other Councillors again. “In private?”
Bronte raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay?” he asked. Oralie twisted a piece of hair around her finger and bit her lip before answering.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I just need someone to talk to.”
“Do you want to come over to my place?” Bronte asked, surprised that he wasn’t opposed to the idea.
“Okay,” Oralie whispered, finally offering him a small smile. Bronte grinned and offered her his hand, which she accepted after a second of hesitation. She closed her eyes, reading his emotions, and whatever they were caused her smile to grow slightly.
Before Bronte could wonder what that meant he was feeling, he raised his pathfinder to the light and away they went.
It had been several months since he’d had someone over, but Oralie didn’t seem distressed by the sad state of his living room. There was dust covering every surface and no sign of anything homey, but Oralie sat down at his invitation with no disgust in her expression.
“So what is it?” Bronte asked, after several seconds of watching Oralie adjust her circlet. She seemed nervous, though he wouldn’t ever consider himself good at reading feelings.
“It’s about…” Oralie sighed, putting her head in her hands. “Please don’t make fun of me. I just needed to tell someone this.”
“I’m listening.”
“It’s about Kenric.”
“Kenric?”
“Yes.” Oralie shifted in her seat, purposefully not meeting his eyes. “I might have a slight problem.” She cleared her throat, then said in a voice so soft he could barely hear it, “I think I’m falling in love with him.”
You THINK?!?
That was Bronte’s first thought, but he didn’t say it aloud. He didn’t tell her how he’d noticed her blush every time Kenric flirted with her. He didn’t tell her that he’d witnessed their hugs after Council meetings, longer and tighter than that which could be even considered platonic. But most importantly, he didn’t tell her that he knew they would sneak off to the Forbidden Cities together at least once a week, and he especially didn’t mention that he would occasionally follow them, witnessing them flirting mercilessly with one another as they walked through the human streets, hand in hand.
Instead, what he said was, “You are?”
Oralie buried her head in her hands. “Ugh. He’s just so sweet, and he’s always there for me, and he always wants to spend time with me, and, I don’t know, it just feels like… and he’s so handsome, I mean, look at those eyes.” Her own took on a dreamy expression. “And his smile is so genuine, and charming, and I think he really likes me.” Oralie shook her head, her curls falling around her face. “I’m probably just kidding myself.”
Internally, Bronte snorted, remembering how just a few hours earlier, Kenric had talked for twenty minutes about her laugh alone.
“But you’re… an Empath,” he carefully added. “Couldn’t you feel what he’s feeling?”
“Yes,” she admitted, “But it’s not that black-and-white. All I can feel is a certain level of affection, which is the same thing I feel with my parents, or any of my friends.” She grinned. “It’s the same thing I feel with you.”
Bronte wasn’t quite sure what to think about that.
So he said, “You can’t tell what type of affection? Whether it’s romantic or otherwise?”
Oralie regretfully shook her head. “The negative emotions are easier to read than the positive ones.”
“You should tell him how you feel,” Bronte advised, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“Really? You would advise me to commit treason?”
“Technically, just by feeling that way about him, you are committing treason,” he reminded her with a dry laugh. Oralie cracked a small grin, though it didn’t reach her eyes.
“But what if he doesn’t feel the same way?” she said in a small voice.
Bronte wanted to scream.
“You’ll have to risk it.”
Oralie sighed. “I guess I will have to tell him eventually. But, Bronte?”
“Yeah?”
“Promise me you won’t tell him?” she pleaded. “I want him to know, I really do, but I want it to be me who tells him.”
“I give you my word,” he replied, squeezing her shoulder. Oralie closed her eyes for a second, then smiled.
“You’re telling the truth. I can feel it.”
And Bronte would keep that promise no matter what.
THREE DAYS LATER
If Bronte hadn’t been a trustworthy sort of person, he would have immediately told Kenric what Oralie had said about him. He didn’t see how Kenric could seriously still think Oralie only thought of him as a friend after the way she blushed red as a tomato whenever Kenric so much as gave her a handshake. But she was his friend, and he wouldn’t betray her trust.
Kenric groaned, collapsing back on the floor like the overdramatic fool in love he was.
“I’m in love with her,” he suddenly stated.
This time, Bronte didn’t hide his thoughts.
“You think?” he asked, rolling his eyes. “Kenric, you stared at her for so long today, I thought you’d turned to stone.”
“Do you think she noticed?”
“Everyone noticed!” Bronte shouted. Kenric’s head snapped to look at him, his expression that of a kicked puppy. Bronte sighed, rubbing his temples. “Look, I get it,” he admitted. “She’s cute, she’s sweet, she’s pretty… I don’t blame you for having a crush on her.”
“It’s not just a crush, it’s-”
“I just think you should be careful,” Bronte continued, ignoring Kenric’s correction. “Tell her how you feel, yes, because that will bring things in the open between you two, so you can decide what to do. Whether or not you want to resign, I mean.”
He didn’t know why he felt a sudden pang in his heart at the thought of both Kenric and Oralie resigning, but he ignored it. Knowing the two of them as he did, it was unlikely they’d resign immediately, even despite how much they loved each other.
Kenric got up from the floor and began to pace, eventually sitting down in, ironically, the exact same chair Oralie had sat in three days earlier. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted. “I don’t want to put her in any trouble because of my stupid feelings. But at the same time, I don’t want to go one more second without telling her everything I feel about her.” He got up from his chair, wrapping his arms around himself. “I think I’ll be going. I’ve got a lot to think about, and a lot of work to do.”
“Suit yourself,” Bronte replied, getting up. He didn’t say another word as Kenric’s footsteps grew quiet and the door opened and shut.
A plan was beginning to formulate in his head. He’d have to work out some of the details, but it was still one of the best plans he’d had in centuries. It was the only way to help those infatuated lovebirds realize the truth.
It was, of course, mostly for himself. If he had to listen to another one of Kenric’s love monologues or spend one more second watching Oralie war with herself, his sanity would probably shatter from pure annoyance.
But even though Bronte wouldn’t admit it, he cared about the two of them.
And he wanted them to be happy.
Bronte decided to put his plan to work the next day. It was a lighter day for the Councillors, with only a couple of meetings besides their daily briefing. Even his annoying coworkers couldn’t dampen his spirits, not to mention the disgustingly sweet smiles Kenric and Oralie gave one another when they thought no one was looking. He could barely pay attention as Emery went over the news for the day, going over all the details and making sure there weren’t any possible ways his plan could fail.
So, when Emery finally announced that the meeting was adjourned, Bronte walked straight over to Kenric, who was on his way over to Oralie.
“I have something to tell you,” he whispered. “Come with me.”
Kenric, good-natured as ever, agreed, though Bronte noticed that he stole a longing glance at Oralie as he did so.
Once they arrived at Bronte’s castle, the ancient Councillor could sense his intrigue and excitement, though he wasn’t an Empath, not in a million years.
“What is it?” Kenric asked as Bronte closed the door behind the two of them. For just a second, Bronte felt a twinge of guilt. He knew his plan was for the best, but both Kenric and Oralie would be very confused and even scared for a few minutes.
So, as he turned around and snatched Kenric’s pathfinder from his pocket and threw it far away, the only answer he gave was, “Sorry.”
Then he grabbed Kenric’s hand and raised his leaping crystal to the light, shimmering out of sight before the other Councillor could even make a noise in protest.
“Where are we?” Kenric asked as the two of them appeared in the location Bronte had chosen. Both of them squinted in the late morning sun, letting their eyes adjust from the dim lighting of Bronte’s residence.
Bronte didn’t answer. He simply looked around, feeling proud of himself for his choice. It was a small island somewhere in what the humans called the Caribbean Sea, but one that was completely devoid of people. Only a little over two miles in area, it was completely overrun with overgrown plant life and unfamiliar animals. With the water gently lapping at the beach and the sun shining down on them, not too hot but a delicious, comforting warm, it was perfect.
“Where have you taken me, Bronte?” Kenric asked, his voice taking on a tone of panic.
“Stay right here,” Bronte answered. “I’ll be right back.”
The last thing he saw before he glittered away was Kenric’s expression of complete confusion.
One down, one to go, he thought as he walked down the streets to Oralie’s castle. She answered only seconds after he knocked, clearly expecting Kenric. Her smile was so bright and excited, Bronte nearly had to squint.
It died down, though, when she took a second look and found that it was him instead of Kenric.
“Hello, Bronte,” she greeted, cheerful and kind as always though Bronte knew her well enough to hear her disappointment. “Why don’t you come inside?”
Bronte ignored her invitation. “Do you have your pathfinder?” he asked.
Confusion entering her expression, Oralie shook her head. “I can go get it, though, if you need to-”
“Perfect.” Before Oralie could say anything, Bronte took her hand and leaped away again, feeling enormously proud of himself.
“Kenric?”
“Oralie?”
As the two of them appeared on the same island as before, Kenric immediately ran over to Oralie, stopping with his hands on her shoulders, mere seconds before he hugged her. Glancing at Bronte, his expression turned into a glare.
“Why’d you take us here?” he demanded to know. “And why’d you take my pathfinder?”
“He took your pathfinder?” Oralie cried.
“Yes! Did he take yours?”
“No, but he asked if I had mine with me, and when I said no, he took me here.” Oralie looked around, raising her hand to block the sunlight. “Where is here, anyway?”
“Here’s the deal,” Bronte began, and both of their heads whipped around to face him. “I am sick and tired of being the go-between in the middle of you two. So I will be back in exactly thirty minutes with your pathfinders, trusting that, in that time, you two work out this little mutual crush bit you have going on. Okay?”
Too dumbfounded to say anything, Kenric and Oralie both nodded.
“Good.” Making sure neither of them was close enough to hitch a ride on his beam of light, Bronte raised his crystal to the sun and was gone before either of them could protest.
Bronte knew he should be spending this time without interruption from either of the two lovebirds doing his own work and enjoying the solitude, but he couldn’t seem to focus. After retrieving Oralie’s pathfinder from the same place she always kept it, he took out the book he’d been reading, but couldn’t go a few sentences without losing his focus. He took out the agenda from the meeting that day, wondering if there were any of his not-in-love coworkers that he could contact about a project, but there wasn’t anything free that struck his fancy.
He kept wondering what Kenric and Oralie were doing at that moment. Had he made things terribly awkward between them? Were they simply sitting with their backs to one another, counting the seconds until they could get away? He hoped not- for himself, of course. More pouty Kenric was the last result he wanted to come out of this plan.
But a tiny part inside of him knew that he was really concerned for his friends, though he never would have admitted that.
Once twenty-eight minutes had gone by, he grabbed all three pathfinders and stepped outside, feeling the breeze on his face and the light shining down. He looked at his watch, feeling the time drag by as the twenty-nine-minute mark hit.
After the longest minute in his life, Bronte raised his pathfinder to the light and glittered away, hoping he had succeeded.
The second he appeared on the island, he knew his plan had worked.
Because Kenric and Oralie were kissing.
Oralie’s arms were wrapped around his neck and she was standing slightly on her tiptoes, her lips pressed against his. Kenric had one of his hands on her waist and the other on the back of her head, playing with her hair. Even from such a distance as he was, Bronte could see the gleeful smiles on both of their faces, the blushes on each of their cheeks. Kenric’s ears were bright red, as Bronte loved to tease him about. He even noticed the lip-shaped mark on Kenric’s cheek- the exact same shade as Oralie’s lipstick.
Neither of them noticed him or seemed to care that the time was up, focused on each other as they were. Even when they broke apart, they didn’t look and see the figure staring at both of them, mouth agape.
“I love you,” Kenric whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead. Oralie’s blush deepened, but she grinned.
“I love you too.”
And then they were kissing again, sweet and genuine and so, so in love.
Bronte tossed both of their pathfinders on the ground, but even the soft thud they made on the sand couldn’t break Kenric and Oralie from their trance.
He decided to leave them to their little lovefest and quietly prepared to leave, feeling a sense of relief washing over him. No longer would he have to listen to Kenric bemoan his unrequited love for the blonde-ringletted Councillor, because he knew that love was not unrequited. No longer would he want to scream when everyone except for the two of them noticed the looks they gave one another, full of love and longing.
Yes, he’d done this for himself. For his own sanity.
But as he glittered away, he was smiling.