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Andhera does not feel a rush as they see the crystal heart, only anticipation.
He thinks he must lack the others’ intent focus and competitive spirit as they all appraise each other from across the clearing. Familiar faces eye each other up before everyone makes a mad dash towards the center. Captain Hob’s large form bounds forward as the Viscountess Grabalba flies by overhead. Lord Airavis slings a spell at the goblins with Prince Apollo at his side. Rue appears from behind the hedges, their feathers bristling.
Someone else stands at Rue’s side.
She freezes as the hedge reveals her and Rue. Moth wings drape over her back, and with one hand, she gathers her dress in a fist and runs forward as she casts a spell.
Something more than curiosity draws Andhera in and keeps him from immediately dismissing the newcomer. They should be strangers, but that assessment feels wrong. His eyes catch theirs for only a second. They seem to stiffen at the momentary connection before their face softens. Then, Andhera realizes why they seem familiar.
With the briefest of looks, Andhera recognizes the way they regard him. It is a look of interest without judgment. Nothing in her eyes remind him of the old glances he would get in the past as “pillar boy”, and it’s devoid of the haughty intrigue that people view him with now. No appraisal. No motive. They look at Andhera as he is.
Different clothes, different hair, they even seem a bit shorter than what he remembers. But he knows this look and these eyes. Andhera knows who they are.
Gwyndolin, or whatever name she might actually hold in private, conceals herself with a cloud, like cigarette smoke and ash, now surging towards the crystal heart. As he loses sight of her, a foreign emotion quietly announces its presence in Andhera’s heart. He briefly assumes he may have been charmed but then dismisses the impossibility.
Their cloud races towards the center before a bird swoops in to dispel it as soon as it appears. A brief panic flashes over their face at their exposure, and Andhera gets another chance to catch her gaze as she again scans the crowd in worry. He smiles and nods in what he hopes is a reassuring way before he decides his next move.
In part hoping to allow the hedge to decide its winner and in part hoping to help conceal his friend, Andhera hardens their resolve. They straighten their posture and cast darkness around the crystal heart.
There’s an uproar around him as people dive headfirst into the pitch black, but he feels no need to rush or hurry. He turns to the hedge and beneath the ruckus, murmurs his vote of confidence for its decision.
The magic of the hedge hums as Andhera finally begins pursuing the crystal heart in earnest, and in a few uncharacteristically elegant strides, he loses himself in the dark.
They kneel down and begin to fumble. People around him, now resigned to the struggle, mutter under their breath. He hears curses, obscure swears, and disappointment as others mistake regular stones and mushrooms for the crystal heart. On occasion, a foot brushes past his leg, or a shoulder into his hip. Andhera flinches back a few times as he feels silk gloves or sharp claws pass over his wrist.
Grass. Grass. Probably a snail. Grass. Shoe. Grass.
And then something a bit more solid, something heavy. Colder to the touch and far too polished to be an ordinary rock. They run their thumb along its edges to trace the shape and find a thin metal chain confirming its identity.
The crystal heart is in his hands now. The hedge considers him the most deserving, he realizes. He feels the weight of it in his palm and its prestige in his gut. A chance at being the better heir. Their mother’s respect. Some personal renown and honor for his entire court. They know this is their opportunity to really shed that identity of old, of the pillar boy. This, without a doubt, solidifies them as someone worthy of their title, their throne, and their court for years to come.
A part of him feels some excitement, looking forward to the gusty embrace of his mother back in the cave. However, as Andhera reflects on the rewards, they struggle to see the long term satisfaction in the victory. Perhaps a boost to the ego, but he can’t imagine it bringing him any sort of true long term joy. The glory of obtaining the crystal heart suddenly feels dull.
If anything, they are more acutely aware of the other award that comes with the crystal heart.
The back of his neck tingles, as he imagines the gaze of the entire Bloom on him as he might soon step toward the center of the ballroom. The fantasy includes a light hold on his arm and a presence at his side that he tries not to look at, in fear of letting that strange emotion overwhelm him, and in wonder of what form his imaginary partner will choose to take.
They think of this partner and what kind of things she must be enduring to feel the need to hide so much. Surely, though the reward must be great, Andhera knows he is not the one in most need.
The hedge maze flatters him, truly, but he must reject the honor. He knows what he must do, who really deserves the crystal heart. Maybe that is why he is trusted with it. Because he can make the right choice.
So, Andhera resumes their bumbling crawl across the lawn. He commands his own darkness and asks it to reveal her. It relents, and his smoke creates a wavering window revealing their location before the window collapses again into void. With more purpose than he had searching for the heart, he makes his way towards her. He’s suddenly very aware of how quiet everyone has grown in their hunt, noticing the sound of his own knees dragging across the manicured grass.
It’s not a difficult task to reach her. But they do find trouble in handing her the stone. He knows he must do this discreetly, so as to not alert the others that he has already won. He can’t startle them or risk alerting others of the exchange. Knowing they must be near, he slowly sweeps his hand across the grass, just as he had earlier, this time looking for something much more precious. He brushes over the soft blades until he feels warmth.
She makes no sound, but both halt at the touch. Andhera almost pulls back at his own nerves, but continues to hold on and pulls himself closer, just enough so he need not reach. He can feel himself tremble as he gently lifts her hand and turns it palm up. Their hand rests gingerly in his own, and he fights back the satisfaction bubbling inside him at how neatly it fits against his. As his hand shakes, his fingers skim over calluses and rough skin telling stories of all the work she must have done in her life, and he marvels at it, wondering if he is the only one to know this about her, and to learn it in such a way.
It feels like an eternity before the crystal heart is pressed into their waiting hand, and Andhera agonizingly pulls away. A storm cloud threatens to make itself known over his head, and the irony is not lost on him that he has placed a heart in her hand. He wonders why he suddenly feels the need to catch his breath as his fingers twitch and flex remembering the touch of her skin. He immediately tries to forget.
Only after Andhera has moved, far enough to eliminate any suggestion of a handoff, does the hedge dismiss their spell. As the competitors rise to try and figure out the winner, he smiles and whispers a word of thanks to the maze. It could have easily dropped the darkness earlier, but it seems to have trusted his judgment as much as he trusted it in turn.
Now, people notice who holds the heart, and Andhera tries to put the same amount of surprise in his face as the others. His friend, Binx, they introduce themself as, makes their presence known to the other Fey, and Andhera suppresses the pride trying to spread across his face as the Wavemaster bows to her.
He only hopes that later she might save a dance for him.