by Peak, Renna
Caspar glides into the room, and I catch him glancing around.
“Where’s Nicholas?” he asks.
“In his own room, I’m assuming.”
Caspar sets the tray on the tray on the little table in front of the sofa before turning back to me.
“I want to apologize again for what happened at the lake,” he tells me, and his eyes show genuine concern. “You must understand that my brothers and I have played pranks on Nicholas and his brothers—and vice versa—our entire lives. It’s a bit of a tradition in our family. We certainly never meant to put you or anyone in any danger.”
“I understand,” I say. That doesn’t exactly change my feelings about what nearly happened to me, but it’s a start.
“I don’t know if Nicholas told you this,” Caspar goes on, “but when we were young he once trapped a snake and put it in the bottom of my rowboat. Now, I’m not afraid of snakes, but even the bravest man will jump if he’s in the middle of a lake and suddenly feels a snake slithering over his foot.” The corners of his mouth turn up. “I jumped so high I ended up capsizing the boat. I still have no idea what happened to that poor snake.”
In spite of myself, I find a smile creeping over my lips, too.
“The point is, my brothers and I were just trying to have some harmless good fun,” he says. “We never meant to put you in the middle of it. And we certainly never meant to put you in any danger. We might have some differences with that side of the family right now, but we’d never stoop so low as to harm you. Or anyone. So I’m sorry. We are sorry.”
“I accept your apology,” I tell him, sitting down on the couch and reaching for the pot of tea. The porcelain pot feels delightfully warm in my hands. “But can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” He sits down on the sofa next to me. He’s still wearing the clothes he had on earlier, but his hair is slightly more tousled.
“How can you even consider secession, with all this talk of ‘family’ and ‘harmless fun’? I don’t know much about politics—and I know even less about Montovia—but tearing your own country and family apart like this can’t be the way. How can you laugh and make jokes about each other but still threaten something like that?”
Caspar is silent for a long moment. He leans forward and pours himself a cup of tea without taking his eyes off me. There’s something thoughtful in his expression, and I find myself struck by the sudden change in his demeanor. Since the moment I met him, Caspar has come off as charming, if cocky, and energetic, if a touch ruthless. Today at the lake, I got a glimpse of that competitiveness Nick mentioned. Right now, though, I’m suddenly noticing how smart he is, too. There’s a sharp intelligence in his blue eyes, a thoughtfulness I suspect he usually keeps hidden for a reason.
Finally, he sits back on the couch, holding his cup of tea without taking a sip.
“I like you, Clara,” he says. “Which is why I’m going to be frank with you. I don’t know how much Nicholas has told you about his family or how much you’ve kept abreast of recent events in this country.”
“Not much at all,” I confess. “To both things.”
“We Montovians have always been a proud people,” he says. “For good reason, in my opinion.” He smiles. “And I have the deepest respect for my king, as well as all of his children. Including Nicholas. But my cousins have been…distracted recently. It’s no secret that the king’s health has been suffering these last few years, and I don’t blame them for prioritizing his wellbeing. But between all the scandals and affairs and babies, they’ve forgotten they have a country to run. Oh, certainly they stepped up when tensions with Rosvalia were high. But what about the people whose position isn’t quite as urgent? They still have needs, and they’ve been ignored for too long.” He looks down at his cup but still doesn’t take a sip. “To be honest, we don’t want to secede. And we certainly don’t want war. But we’ve reached a point where threatening those things was the only way to make ourselves heard. What we want, at the end of the day, is the power and authority to help the people in this region. Yes, technically this manor belongs to the crown. . But this branch of the family has called Wintervale home for generations. It is our home in all but the title. And yet we have little say over how things are done here.”
Caspar might just be a smooth talker. But if I’m being honest, I believe what he says. And I believe he has genuine concern for the people here.
“I…can talk to Nick,” I tell him. “Try to soften him to it a little. But if you guys keep playing pranks on him—”
“That wasn’t why I told you any of this,” he says. “I wasn’t trying to put you in the middle of it. But—”
He’s cut off by a sharp rap at the door. Before I can rise to answer it, it swings open, revealing a freshly washed and dried Nick.
“Hey,” I say, feeling a stab of guilt as I rise. I haven’t done anything wrong, not really, but I’m still embarrassed that Nick caught us in the middle of a discussion about him.
Nick takes one look at me—still in my robe, I realize—before his gaze moves to Caspar. And then his eyes harden with fury.
“What are you doing here?” he demands of his cousin.
“Actually, I was just leaving,” Caspar says, setting down his cup and rising.
But that’s not good enough for Nick. I see the intention flash in his eyes just before he moves, but there’s no time to stop it. I can only dive out of the way as Nick launches himself as Caspar, his fists flying.
Nicholas
I can think of nothing but the anger boiling inside me as my fists fly at my cousin. How dare he come to Clara’s room alone? She’s barely dressed, and…
She’s barely dressed.
It makes my rage flare all the more. I swing again for my cousin, not caring where my fist might land. It’s only a moment before I feel something pulling at my neck, and I hear Clara calling out.
“Nick! Nick, stop!”
Caspar isn’t even fighting back—he’s holding his hands in front of his face.
The coward, I think as I back away from him. I glare at him as his arms slowly lower.
His sheepish look tells me all I need to know—the guilt on his face is evident. “Cousin.” He gives me a plastic smile. “So good to see you again.”
“Nick, you can’t just go around punching people.” Clara marches into my view. “Caspar and I were just talking—”
“My cousin knows proper etiquette full well.” I fold my arms over my chest, still ready to fight the man if he gives me any reason.
Caspar’s expression goes from guilty to playful in an instant. “I will say no one takes etiquette quite as seriously as you, Cousin. It might do you good to stay here a while, learn to relax your expectations a bit.” He motions toward Clara. “We were merely talking—”
“Alone. In her suite.” I glance over at her. “And she’s…” I let out a long breath. Perhaps I do sound ridiculous, but there is a certain amount of decorum that is expected in my family—that certainly extends to this branch of it.
“Perhaps I should have come back when she was in a more proper state of dress—and for that, I am truly sorry, Cousin.” Caspar gives me a shallow bow. “I do hope you’ll allow me to make it up to you.”
My jaw clenches tightly. After the stunt my cousins just pulled on the lake, I doubt very much I’ll ever allow them to get me in a position to be made a fool of again.
“I was telling Clara of our last meeting at the lake.” Caspar smiles, looking over at Clara.
Clara tilts her head. “He said you put a snake in his boat?”
I give them both a small shake of my head. “I’m certain my cousin wouldn’t believe it, but that actually would have been Sophia’s doing.”
Caspar laughs. “You’re going to lay blame upon your sister? Who isn’t even here to defend herself?”
Clara begins to laugh, too. “Seriously, Nick. You really want us to believe Sophia would do that?”
I shrug. “Sophia was the o
nly one of us who could capture the creatures. I won’t say that the rest of us might not have assisted with her pranks afterward.” I could almost smile at the memory, but the current situation won’t allow it—Clara is still standing before my cousin and me and is barely dressed.
I’m not sure why I’m so surprised that she could betray me like this. It hasn’t been very long at all that she was engaged to another man. Why would I have even thought that she might share my feelings? To think I was about to tell her that I…
No. I won’t be sharing any feelings of love with her. Not now.
I smooth my clothing, straightening my shoulders before I lift my chin. “I apologize for interrupting the two of you. I’ll see you at dinner.”
Before either of them can protest—not that they would—I turn and leave Clara’s suite.
It’s better this way, I tell myself as I walk outside. Admitting my feelings for Clara would have only complicated matters. And wasn’t that why I left Montovia so many months ago? To get away from the complications of this family? To get away from the complication of my feelings?
I walk to the stables, giving a polite nod as I enter to the two gentlemen who care for the horses here.
I’ve always loved riding, even before I moved to Montana. I suppose if I got nothing else from my short stay there, it was the realization that riding is something I truly enjoy.
“May I help you saddle any of the horses, Your Highness?” One of the stable managers walks over to me.
I’d like to tell him I want to ride my own horse—I was just beginning to form a close bond with Prince before I had to leave—but he and Pomegranate have unfortunately not yet arrived.
“This one,” I nod toward the large black horse in front of me.
“As you wish, Your Highness.” The man goes to work, getting the saddle ready before he leads the horse from the stables.
It’s still several minutes before I’m able to mount him and head out of the area of the manor.
I ride for some time, mostly trying to clear my head. It truly isn’t the swim in the lake that is bothering me, it’s everything else. Perhaps I shouldn’t have come to Montovia after all—this political situation is one that could be handled much better by my brother Andrew. Even my brother William would have been a better choice to diffuse this situation, but all three of my older brothers have been far too distracted lately. I’m all for doing my duty as a member of my family, but I’ve never developed a liking for political situations such as these.
And then there’s Clara. I suppose I never should have involved myself in that situation, either. She’s newly broken up from her fiancé of… I suddenly realize I have no idea how long she was engaged to that man. How I really know very little about her at all, other than how I feel when I’m around her.
Clara and I have spent far too much time trying to hide things from the other—time that might have been better spent getting to know each other.
I’ve been an idiot—and I should have known. This is almost exactly the same thing that happened the last time I let my cock dictate my decisions.
This isn’t love, I think. This is merely lust. And while I’ve nothing against giving in to lust from time to time, I need to remind myself not to confuse the two.
I turn my horse around and head back for the manor. I’ve still no idea what I’m to do about the current political situation in this part of Montovia, but I realize I now have no doubt about what I’m going to do about the other mess in my life.
Clara
After I’m dressed, I spend quite some time trying to find Nick. But he isn’t in his suite, or in the gardens, or anywhere else I dare to look. I consider asking one of his cousins for help, but after the incident with Caspar, I suspect that it’s better I talk to Nick alone. In the meantime, I try to avoid running into Lady Helena or anyone else who might object to me poking around in various corners of the manor.
Eventually, I make my way outside again. I still don’t spot a soul in the gardens, but there’s some activity in the buildings beyond what I believe is the Winter Garden.
Of course, I think, heading that way. The stables. After our time together in Montana, I should have guessed that Nick might find solace in a similar way here.
The stables are bustling with activity when I arrive. There are easily three dozen horses, possibly more, and I count at least ten members of staff darting about, efficiently completing their tasks.
“Excuse me,” I say to the closest one. “Did Nick come through here?”
He frowns in confusion.
“Excuse me, Prince Nicholas,” I quickly correct. “Have you seen him?”
The light of recognition goes off in his eyes. “Oh, yes, my lady. We saddled Tempest for him a couple of hours ago. He hasn’t returned yet, though.”
“Did you happen to see what direction he rode?”
“I believe he set off around the lake,” the man replies. “It’s been some time, though. He could be anywhere.”
Yes, he could. But I’m not the sort of girl who likes to sit around waiting.
“Is it possible for me to have a horse?” I ask him.
“Of course, my lady,” he says with a quick bow. “Perhaps Arella will work for you. She’s very fast.”
“She sounds wonderful.” I hope my smile doesn’t betray my nerves. I was almost used to riding Pom when we left Montana, and I hope this Arella is equally as mild-tempered.
The man runs off to fetch the horse, and a few minutes later he leads a beautiful Arabian out into the stable yard for me. Her chestnut coat gleams in the late afternoon light, and there’s a charming white patch on her nose, as well as a white sock on her front left leg.
“She’s beautiful,” I tell him.
“Only the finest horses for Wintervale Manor,” he says proudly. “Will you require any assistance mounting, my lady?”
I wish I could refuse his help, but frankly, I’m too embarrassed to try. Especially wearing a long dress.
The man snaps his fingers and a stable boy runs over with a mounting block. For the first time, I glance up at the saddle, and my stomach sinks. It’s shaped nothing like the saddles we used back in Montana. I didn’t realize things would be so different here.
The stable manager must read my confusion on my face.
“Have you ever ridden side saddle, my lady?” he asks me.
Oh. Of course. I guess there’s not really another option, with me wearing one of Sophia’s long dresses, and I feel dumb for not thinking of it.
“I’ll manage,” I tell him, though I’m sure I’m a very attractive shade of green right now.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re quite secure,” he tells me.
It takes some doing, but ten minutes later—with lots of help from the stable manager—I somehow manage to be in my seat.
“Thank you,” I tell him, gathering the reins and hoping I don’t look as terrified as I feel. “What did you say your name was?”
“Nico Berger, my lady,” he says, bowing his head slightly. “A pleasure to assist you.”
I’m not sure how I feel about all this “my lady” nonsense, but I thank him again before guiding Arella around and toward the lake. I feel like I could fall off at the slightest bump or gust of wind, but I’m too embarrassed to admit I have no idea what I’m doing.
Unfortunately, riding this way means I can’t move as quickly as I like. Arella is full of energy, just as Nico promised, but I don’t dare nudge her faster. I lead her down the path to the edge of the lake, then I guide her to the north, following the well-beaten trail that follows the shore.
The trees thicken the farther I ride away from the palace, the late afternoon shadows getting longer, but the brisk breeze coming off the lake feels wonderful, whisking some of the sweat off my face. The path is much larger and better kept than the ones back at the ranch in Montana—there are few stones, and it’s obvious that the brush is regularly cleared back. That makes it much easier for me, riding t
his way. I don’t understand how other women do it. This is incredibly uncomfortable. I’m half tempted to just hike my skirts up, throw my right leg over to the other side of the horse, and leave it at that.
I’m contemplating the logistics of that when Arella suddenly jerks. I tighten my grip on the reins—grabbing some of her hair accidentally as well—but she’s already spooked. She throws her head, whinnying, and as I desperately try to keep my seat, she rears up, throwing me right off her back.
I land with a grunt in the dirt, then curse as I push myself up on my elbows. Arella is already bolting down the path away from me.
“Wait!” I call after her. As if a horse can understand English.
Still cursing, I roll over onto my hands and knees.
And that’s when I see what scared her in the first place.
A giant snake is lying across the path. The thing has to be at least five feet long, a mosaic of brown and grayish-green scales, and it turns its head and looks at me with dark, beady eyes.
I scream. And then I reach out and grab the closest thing to hand—a stick, lying just off the path—and swing it at the snake.
The creature looks like it’s just as startled as I am. I scramble to my feet, trying to keep the stupid long skirt from tangling around my legs as I do, and swing at it again.
That’s when I feel a pair of hands at my waist. I jump in surprise, keeping the stick out in front of me as a defense as I twist around.
It’s Nick. Fresh off the back of a horse standing a few feet behind him.
“I heard you scream,” he tells me.
“There’s a snake!”
His eyes have already darted past me to the creature across the path. I give another swing with my stick, daring it to come closer.
And then, to my surprise, Nick starts laughing. I stare up at him in shock.
“Fuck,” he says, rubbing his forehead. “I heard you scream and I thought…” He shakes his head, still chuckling. “But it’s just a little snake.”