He chuckles, and then, just to tease me, he lowers his hands a bit, sending me flailing.
On instinct, I wrap an arm around his neck, clinging to him like a cat tossed in the bath.
His laughter grows, and mine along with it, and then, quite suddenly, we both realize exactly how close we are. I’m pressed against his chest, and his arms are around my back. Droplets of water cling to his dark eyelashes, and his eyes seem a brighter green than I’ve ever seen. He has a tiny freckle under his left eye, something I’ve never noticed before.
Our laughter fades, and we stay like this, staring at each other, my eyes searching his…and his eyes searching mine. Our conversation needs no words.
Can we?
Should we?
Do we dare even if we shouldn’t?
I can tell the moment Rhys decides the answer to those questions is no, but I hold him tight, not letting him pull away yet.
“I lied to you in Shale,” I say at a whisper, my heart beating madly. “I asked because I wanted it to be you. I wanted there to be a reason I could pick you.”
Rhys stares at me, his expression more enigmatic than usual, his smile gone.
“Don’t misunderstand,” I add hastily, “I’m not declaring my undying love. But…I do like you.”
Rhys’s gaze is intense, and his expression finally changes. He looks like my confession is a knife in his gut.
I let him go, laughing to hide my embarrassment, looking down at the water. “Is the thought that repulsive? I think there are plenty of men who wouldn’t mind all that much if a princess were to—”
Before I can finish, Rhys pulls me back, holding me close. My good hand falls on his bare shoulder, and the other hovers awkwardly to the side of us in a feeble attempt to keep the bandage dry.
“I must tell you…” My voice is unsteady as my chin brushes against the crook of his neck. “You’re sending mixed signals, and I’m having a bit of trouble keeping up.”
“I like you, too, Amalia,” Rhys says on a heavy sigh. “But that doesn’t mean I can have you. Let’s not begin something that has no future. Please believe me when I tell you I cannot take this path—and then let it rest.”
“No,” I say softly, and then I lean back, tugging out of his embrace, growing irritated. “That’s not good enough this time. Give me a reason.”
“I can’t be your king.”
As reasons go, it’s a good one. But I know there’s more behind it, and that’s what I want. An actual explanation.
“So, if I were just a simple girl, from a simple family, and not the princess…?”
Rhys’s hand finds my waist, and he nudges me back until our faces are as close as they were before. “I wouldn’t be able to walk away from you.” He lets out a self-deprecating sort of laugh. “What am I saying? I know better, and I still haven’t been able to walk away.”
My heart breaks a little. Why must life be so unfair? Why was Braeton taken from me; why was I sent in his place? I don’t want to be queen—I don’t want to choose our king.
I just want Rhys.
“Just for a few minutes, can’t we pretend there isn’t a title attached to my name?” I whisper, running my fingers through the damp hair at the nape of his neck. “Would that be so wrong?”
“It would be,” Rhys answers, his voice full of conviction.
Yet his hand tightens at my side, drawing me even closer, his physical response at odds with his answer.
His eyes are on mine, the intimacy of it almost too much to bear. “But I don’t have the will to stop you right now. If I am what you want, then I give myself to you. However, please know these fleeting minutes are all we have.”
I lick my lips, and his eyes follow the movement. My breaths are short and fast, and Rhys’s fingers press into my side in the most intoxicating way.
Making a decision I’ll likely regret, I slowly pull back. Disappointment flashes in Rhys’s green eyes when I put space between us, but I stand strong.
“If minutes are all you can give me, I won’t waste them now,” I tell him softly. “I’ll save them, hide them away. Outwardly, I will keep our relationship purely platonic, but sometime—when I need you the most—I’ll make my request.”
“Amalia…” Rhys says, sounding pained.
Unable to help myself, I lean in and press the briefest kiss to the very corner of his lips. For a moment, I wonder if the knight is going to lock his arms around me, hold me here, convince me to use those minutes now.
But he doesn’t.
“You can deduct a second from my total,” I tease softly when I pull back. I then climb out of the hot spring, dripping water along the stone. I’m about to hurry back to the manor, but I stop dead in my tracks.
Hundreds of tiny white flowers, sparkling like they’re covered with morning dew, blanket the shore of the lake, stretching as far as I can see.
“Where did those come from?” I whisper, awed. They weren’t there before.
Rhys pulls himself from the water and stands by my side. His eyes scan the lakeshore, and his mouth presses into a thin line. He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to. We both know the answer.
Magic.
36
The sudden arrival of the flowers leaves me uneasy. The way the princess’s eyes lit up makes me believe this sort of display isn’t normal, even in Renove.
As much as I’d rather not think about it, I wonder if these things are happening because of Amalia herself. Magic, good and bad, seems to be following her now that she’s on the Requeamare. What does it want with her? Why is it attracted to her?
I’ve never heard of such a thing in my life. Magic is just…there. In the land. We can’t touch it, can’t control it, can’t manipulate it in any way.
How will I protect the princess if I don’t know why it’s latched onto her?
With a dull ache in the very center of my chest, I realize she won’t be mine to protect much longer. Soon, she’ll be Edwin’s. His queen, his wife.
A mutinous thought dances in my head. It’s been there for days, taunting me, and it only became louder after the tiraith’s attack. What if I don’t escort Amalia across the border? What if I stay here, with her? Could I turn my back on my family and my people just so I won’t have to betray a woman I’m coming to care about?
I know the fanciful idea isn’t an option. I’ve already betrayed Amalia. It’s only a matter of time before she discovers who I am and what I’ve done. But is that an excuse to continue on this dark path? If I can’t coax the princess to cross the Chasm and enter my world of her own free will, I’ll have to abduct her.
That was the plan from the beginning: charm her, befriend her, make her trust me. Then deliver her to my brother using coercion or force.
Falling for her was never on the agenda.
In the beginning, before I met Amalia, I justified my behavior by telling myself that Edwin is gracious. He’d be kind to her. And what did it matter how he treated a princess of Renove anyway? They were the people who cursed us. The ruin that would befall their royal line was their own doing.
My elder brother, however, was against Father’s plan. He said it was manipulative, calculative—simply wrong. But it’s hard to hold firm to your convictions when you see your people suffering, especially your mother and sister.
I agreed to go into Renove as my family’s blade, volunteered to be the one to get my hands dirty. I will do just about anything for them, especially Edwin. I’ve looked up to him since I was young; he is a hero, beloved by our people.
I’ll do anything except give him Amalia.
The princess smiles at me as we ride into the city once again, oblivious to my thoughts. The light of early evening shines on her nearly dry hair, turning it gold. She has captured my heart, and she doesn’t even realize it.
I focus on the city gates, reminding myself I’m already in too deep to turn back. What’s done is done.
My only choice is to move forward.
Gage is aw
ake by the time we return to the infirmary, but something is wrong. His face is too pale, and his breathing is labored. What truly worries me is the slight gray cast to his skin. It’s subtle, in its early stages, but I’ve seen this before in Draegan.
He sits up in his bed, pretending he’s on the mend, but he’s not. It’s going to get much worse.
As Amalia speaks with her cousin, I take Kent aside. “Have you checked the wound recently?”
The doctor nods, glancing at the princess and lowering his voice. “It’s not bleeding, but something isn’t right.”
“Is the surrounding skin red and fiery? Does it weep at the edges?”
Kent’s eyebrows shoot up. “How would you know that?”
Dread pools in my gut, and I glance at Amalia. My eyes fall on her wrapped hand, and a sliver of fear pierces my chest.
“We need to leave,” I tell her.
“What?” she asks, startled.
“You can’t be here right now.”
She glances at Gage, ready to protest. Her cousin meets my eyes and nods. He, too, knows something is wrong.
“Go, Amalia,” Gage says. “I’d like to sleep anyway.”
Understandably frightened by my abrupt behavior, Amalia looks over her shoulder as I grasp her arm and forcibly urge her from the room. Kent follows us out.
As soon as the door is closed, Amalia yanks out of my grasp and demands, “What’s wrong with him?”
“The wound has been infected,” I say. “It’s highly contagious.”
“Infected?” she asks. “With what?”
Kent steps forward. “I would like to know that as well. We haven’t seen anything like it, and we have four cases in the infirmary right now.”
We shouldn’t have brought Gage here, but how was I supposed to know? We’re in Renove—this is an illness that plagues Draegan.
Why is the curse spreading?
“It’s magic. There is no cure.” I glance at Amalia. “Healthy men and women are able to fight it—many live. The very young, the old, the weak…they are never as fortunate.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Kent says, understandably frustrated. “I trained with the royal doctors of Kenrow. How do you know of this when I do not?”
“It’s a northern plague.”
“What can we do?” Kent asks, more concerned for his patients than his pride. “Tell me what you know.”
“Soon, Gage’s fever will spike,” I begin. “Keep him as cool as possible, no matter how he protests—and he will protest. He’ll become delirious, dangerous, extremely violent. The sickness passes through open wounds—even something as minor as the nick of a knife could put you at risk. Quarantine all who are showing symptoms so it can’t spread. It can take the city if you’re not careful.”
Amalia meets Kent’s eyes, looking like she’s about to cry. “Kess.”
It takes me a moment, but I realize that must be Gage’s fiancée—the woman he left in Kenrow to accompany Amalia on her Requeamare.
Kent sets a hand on her shoulder, leaning down to look the princess in the eye. “I won’t let him die, Amalia. I swear it.”
The princess nods, trying to blink away her tears.
“We have to go,” I tell her, and then I nod to her hand. “You’re not safe.”
Amalia glances at her bandage. Her eyes widen when she realizes she’s in danger of contracting the illness.
Just before I’m out the door, Kent stops me. He lowers his voice, looking like he’s about to say something that he finds nearly repulsive. “There’s a woman who lives deep in the Calmon forest, about a half a day east of Rock Creek. There are rumors that she wields magic, can cure the incurable.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I know.” He scrubs a hand through his short hair. “But she’s renowned throughout the city—hundreds of people whisper stories of her miracle cures.”
I cross my arms, glancing at Amalia. The princess stands near the street, arms wrapped around herself, white with shock and grief.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I’m asking you to go to her, see if she has something that may save Gage. I saw your face when you first laid eyes on him—I know his odds of making it through this are low.”
“You want me to take a four-day ride to visit a witch?” I ask, incredulous.
“Amalia wants to see the forest anyway. Take her away from here—you know she won’t be able to stay away from Gage if you don’t get her out of Saulette.”
Reluctantly, I admit he’s right. But if Gage dies while she’s away, will that just be one more thing for which Amalia will never be able to forgive me?
“Fine,” I say, though I know it’s a fool’s errand. “Just…keep him alive.”
“I will do everything in my power.”
37
“We’re leaving Saulette?” I demand, shocked at Rhys’s words. “Kent wants us to visit a witch? They’re nothing but charlatans who prey on desperate people hoping for miracles.”
“I’m aware of that,” Rhys says, drawing his horse to a stop in front of the inn where his men are currently staying.
I dismount, still arguing, and follow him into the building.
“You want to see the forest, don’t you?” the knight says as we walk. “See it in bloom?”
“Yes, but not while Gage is…” I let the words trail off, not wanting to finish that sentence.
Rhys looks at me, his eyebrows drawing together with his frown. “Gage is strong and healthy. He’s going to make it through this.”
“Then why are we bothering?”
Instead of answering, Rhys stalks up a flight of stairs and impatiently knocks on the first door on the left.
Lewis, the blond-haired man with the goatee who tended Gage after the fight with the bandits, answers. He looks like he’s going to say something, but his eyes move to me, and he snaps his mouth shut, waiting for Rhys to speak.
“We’re leaving for Rock Creek,” Rhys says.
“When?”
“At dawn. Spread the news.” He gives the man directions to the manor. After delivering his brief instructions, he asks, “Which room is Tryndon’s?”
“Last door to the right,” Lewis answers, jerking his head down the hall. “But he went to the tavern at the end of the street with Morgan.”
Rhys nods, and I follow him down the stairs.
“I take it we’re visiting the tavern at the end of the street?” I say wryly as we leave the inn.
The knight flashes me a small smile, but before I can take it the wrong way, I remind myself that I promised to keep space between us, as he requested.
Unfortunately, it’s hard not to think about our conversation from earlier, relive every moment.
Rhys likes me…as much as I like him.
The tavern smells like pipe smoke and venison stew. It’s a busy establishment, catering to the laborers of the city. Most of the tables are occupied by men who have finished their shifts for the day. The only few stools open are at the long bar along the back. It’s so loud; it’s hard to hear the woman singing in the corner.
A serving maid carries a tray of ale, resting it on her hip, but she’s so busy flirting with a table of young men that she bumps into me. The drinks slosh, making a mess on the floor.
“Watch where you’re going!” she snaps, running her eyes over me with distaste.
I just about tell her to watch where she’s going, but I glance at Rhys, and he shrugs, silently reminding me it’s not worth it. He’s probably right.
A fight with a serving woman is likely not one of the experiences I need to gather while on the Requeamare.
“I have a dagger now,” I whisper to him as we weave through the establishment. “I could have taken her.”
He smirks, setting his hand on my back so we don’t get separated in the throng. “Is that right?”
I laugh under my breath, happy I could make him smile again.
Morgan and Tryndon sit at a
back table. The first looks bored—which appears to be a common expression for him—and the other is all smiles. Well, Tryndon is all smiles until he spots us. His eyes move to Rhys’s hand, and he frowns.
Feeling irrationally guilty, I step away from Rhys, pretending I didn’t notice…and trying not to mind. Is it my fault this place is pure chaos? And why does Tryndon care if Rhys touches me?
I glance at Rhys, wondering if he noticed. The knight stands taller, his eyes sharp. He stares his brother down, the two engaging in a silent showdown I don’t understand.
“Hello, Morgan,” I say, trying to smile. “Tryndon.”
Rhys’s brother’s expression softens when he turns to me, making me think his displeasure isn’t because he doesn’t care for me personally. “Good evening, Amalia. How is Gage?”
“The sickness is in Saulette,” Rhys says before I can answer. “Gage has contracted it.”
The two men snap their attention to their leader, both looking horrified. I grasp my hand on the back of a chair and sink into it before my legs give out.
Rhys said Gage would be all right. He said…
His men’s faces tell a different story.
“What’s it doing on this side of the Chasm?” Morgan demands.
Despite my fear, I latch onto those words, turning them over and over in my mind. This side of the Chasm?
This side?
Rhys shakes his head, looking weary, but before he can answer, I hold up my hand, demanding their attention. I look right at Morgan. “What do you mean by that?”
The knight’s eyebrows twitch, and he sits back, slowly turning to Rhys as if asking his leader how he should fix his mistake.
To Rhys, I demand, “Tell me.”
Rhys looks livid, but not with me. Morgan flinches and looks down at the table. Tryndon’s eyes move between the three of us, but he stays silent.
Instead of answering me, Rhys focuses on his brother. “We’re heading north in the morning. You’ve already had the sickness. I want you to stay in Saulette, keep an eye on Gage. Help the doctors however you can.”
Tryndon nods.
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