Not quite touching me, he whispers near my lips, “You are a weakness I can’t afford, a distraction I do not want, and a nuisance I have no time for.” He pushes me away abruptly. “That’s what done means.”
He walks away, leaving me staring after him, barely able to breathe. I feel as if he’s ripped my heart from my chest. I hug myself, almost doubling over from the pain his words have caused. I’m glad there was no one to witness them.
“Grace!”
I clench my eyes shut. Not her.
From down the hall, Pippa rushes to me and pulls me toward her. “What has he done to you?” she demands. “Did he hurt you?”
I shake my head, unable to voice my thoughts.
She wraps her arm around me, still without the vaguest idea of what happened, and looks at Archer. “I hate him.”
“Pippa—”
“I will not marry him!” She squeezes me tighter. I’m not sure whether I’m trembling or she’s shaking with righteous fury. “He’s cruel, Archer. I’ve tried to be accepting of this, but I can’t do it.” She takes a step closer to him, dragging me with her. “I won’t do it,” she vows—as if he’s the one she must convince.
Archer cautiously glances around and steps forward. “This isn’t the time or the place.”
She glares at him for several moments before she takes a deep breath, drawing from his calm. For the time being, she lets her anger go. Archer gives her a slight, approving nod. I watch them, glad for the distraction from my misery.
I pull away from the princess. “I need to go.”
She turns back. “Will you be all right? Can we walk you back to the library?”
I push my hair behind my shoulder. “I’d rather go alone.”
Pippa looks like she’s going to argue, but Archer sets a hand on her shoulder. She purses her lips but finally nods.
With as much dignity as possible, I walk from the stables. By the time I reach the library steps, my eyes sting. I won’t make it much farther. I fling open the doors, hoping to make it through without being stopped. I rush in, looking at the floor, avoiding eye contact at all costs. In my haste, I run right into someone.
Gentle hands grasp my shoulders, holding me steady. “Grace?”
If Pippa finding me was uncomfortable, running into Javid is excruciating.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and I pull away from him.
“Grace!” he calls after me, but I don’t turn back.
***
Today marks the beginning of Vernai’s largest festival of the season. Even the scholars have ventured, blinking, into the sunlight to gorge themselves on pocket pies, drink the ever-flowing cheap wine, and watch the gypsy troupes perform. I’m grateful to have the wing to myself.
Alone, I sit cross-legged on a quilted blanket in the window with my skirts spread out around me. A new sketchbook is open in my lap—a gift I purchased for myself to ease my aching heart. It’s bound leather, simple and clean. Perfect in its newness.
My charcoal hovers over the blank page. I glance out the window at the city and then look back at the book. I can’t do it. I set the charcoal aside, huffing in irritation. I bought the journal on a whim, hoping to use it for the indulgent practice of art alone. No notes, no observations—just sketching. But I’m terrified I’m not good enough. The sketchbook is too pretty to ruin with my scratches.
Footsteps sound in the hall. I glance out the window, hoping they’ll continue on. No luck.
“The day is beautiful,” Javid says from behind me. “Why aren’t you at the festival?”
I stare out the window. “There are too many people. I am feeling the need for solitude.”
He sits next to me, undaunted. “New sketchbook?”
I glance at him, bothered he won’t leave me be.
He smiles, but his eyes are cautious. He motions to the blank page. “It’s all right to draw in it. It’s what it’s meant for.”
Irritated by how he seems to instinctively understand why I haven’t started, I snap the book shut and rise.
He holds out a hand and gives me a tentative smile. “No, you stay. I’ll go.” He turns away, his own sketchbook under his arm. “I truly am sorry for what I said,” he calls as he leaves the wing.
I cross my arms, hovering near the window. I’m not sure I want to stay. Before I reveled in the solitude, but now I just feel alone.
***
The comet is long gone, but the constellations keep me company on this moonless night. Part of me is lonely. The other part is glad for the quiet. Pippa’s been back to see me several times. She’s stuck here for the summer, she says, shipped here immediately after her seventeenth birthday so she and Lionel may spend time together. Much to their royal parents’ chagrin, they now avoid one another like death.
The princess is smarter than I first gave her credit for. I know she’s put the pieces together and realizes exactly what it was she witnessed in the stable—and it wasn’t a prince trying to take advantage of a peasant girl, as I’m sure she first assumed. She doesn’t seem to hold it against me, though I do believe she questions my judgment.
The observatory door opens, and I freeze. Surely it won’t be Lionel; I haven’t seen him in weeks.
“I’m going to stand on the other side of the balcony,” Javid says. “Don’t rush off. Just pretend I’m not here. I’ll keep to myself, I swear.”
I do as he says, but I watch him from the corner of my eye. He strides to the balcony’s rail and leans against it like he hasn’t a care in the world. Silent as promised, he stares up at the sky. After several minutes, I think he may keep his word.
“I have no idea what I’m looking at.”
I ignore him, but a smile plays at my lips.
Several more minutes pass before he finally says, “I’ve heard rumors there are shapes in the sky. I believe they must be wrong. I only see stars.”
“You said you’d keep to yourself,” I remind him. Even as I tell myself I’m not glad for his company, my heart warms.
He turns, leaning an arm on the rail. “I’m not very good at that.”
“I’ve noticed.”
He chuckles and dares a step closer. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I was, yes.”
Again he leans on the balcony. “I did apologize for what I said at the pond. Several times, in fact.”
“I wasn’t ready to accept it.”
He nods at that and looks over the balcony’s edge. He motions down to the streets. “This would be disconcerting if you were scared of heights.”
I glance at him, trying not to let myself become too intrigued by his company. “But I’m not.”
He’s close enough now I can see him raise an eyebrow in the dark. “Only scared of horses?”
I cross my arms. “How did you hear of that?”
He inches closer, probably thinking he’s being suave about it. I know what he’s doing, but I don’t step away.
“Court dinners are tedious,” he says. “I latch onto any trivial bit of gossip to get through them.”
This startles me enough I step back. “You were at court?”
He laughs. “Does that surprise you?”
“A little, yes.” I frown, trying to decide what he is. A lord’s youngest son? Or perhaps the palace physician’s nephew?
He grins and steps forward to close the distance I created. “What baffles you? Is it the way I dress?” He gives me a wry look. “Am I not debonair enough?”
I laugh, and the brightness of the sound surprises even me. His face softens. “That’s better.” His hand slides toward mine, our fingers not quite touching on the rail. “What do you think I am?”
“Honestly?”
He nods.
I mull it over for a moment longer. “Illegitimate son of a baron or an earl.”
He grins. “Why?”
“You have enough gold to gallivant across the kingdoms playing at your studies and your art, but there seems to be no pressure on you to be respectable.�
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His hand inches closer, his fingers just bumping into mine. “You don’t think I’m respectable?”
I stare at our hands. No one has ever flirted with me like this, not even Lionel—especially not Lionel.
“No?”
He laughs and steps in. “Is that a question?”
I look away, biting my lip so I don’t laugh. Desperate to put my mind on something else, I remove my hand from the railing and point to the sky. “Do you see the very bright star just over the horizon?”
“Yes.” He steps a little closer.
“That’s Tralin.” I move my finger higher. “If you go directly up you’ll run into Dalega. It’s the tail of The Grouse.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t see a grouse—or any sort of fowl, for that matter.”
I lean over him, trying to move my hand so he will see where I’m pointing. Casually, as if he doesn’t have an alternate purpose, he steps behind me, extending his own arm toward the sky. He sets my hand on top of his, nudging me to guide him.
I try to focus on the constellation and not his clean, bright scent. It’s different than the heavy, cloying spices so many men here prefer to douse themselves in. If I step back, move just a little closer, will I be able to identify the herbs?
I stay put but move his hand, conscious of our closeness. “It connects with those two bright stars there and there. Those five stars just to the right make up the body.” I wait for him to find them. “A few of them are very faint. Do you see it?”
“Yes, I see,” he says, his voice quiet.
I turn my head, expecting to find him looking at the constellation. He’s not. He’s looking at me. When our eyes meet, he turns his hand under mine, connecting our palms. Lowering our arms slowly, he shifts me so I’m facing him. He doesn’t drop my hand, but he doesn’t step close, either.
He looks into my eyes and brushes a strand of hair out of my face. “You’re trembling.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, feeling foolish.
The familiar smile plays again at his lips. “Have you ever been kissed, Grace?”
I can’t speak so I shake my head. I don’t think I want him to kiss me. I barely know him.
And Lionel…
My heart hardens. What of Lionel? He made it all too clear how he feels. He loves me, but he despises himself for it. Worse, he despises me.
Maybe it would be all right to give myself a moment with this constantly smiling stranger? Maybe if I lean in and close my eyes, it will help me forget?
Javid watches me carefully, as if he’s reading the indecision in my thoughts. His mouth tips in a crooked smile. He raises my hand to his lips, places a soft kiss on my knuckles, and then releases me. He gives me one last nod and then turns to leave. “Good evening, Grace.”
“Where are you going?” I ask once I finally catch my breath.
“I have things to do.” He’s opened the observatory door. Just enough light illuminates his face, and I can see him smile when he glances over his shoulder. “Noble, respectable things.”
I don’t even bother to fight my grin.
CHAPTER FOUR
Duel
I sort through the books in my arms, looking for Able’s Record of Riparian Amphibians. Once I find it, I place it on the shelf.
Pippa wanders after me, chattering about the acrobat show she watched at the pavilion last night. “And they had trained monkeys! Can you imagine? A monkey, here in Vernow!”
I don’t tell her I’ve seen the gypsy monkeys on several occasions because I don’t want to dampen her enthusiasm.
“You should have come,” she finally says.
We walk down several more rows. I scan the shelf, find the book I’m looking for, and push it in her hands. “Here, take this with you.”
She stares at it, mildly disgusted. “What would I do with a book about monkeys when I’ve already seen a real one?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes and snatch the book back.
She sets her hands on her hips. “I’m just saying…”
“Find her a book on archery,” Archer says. “She could use it.” He looks completely serious, but there’s something about the way he watches for her reaction that tells me he’s teasing.
She turns narrowed eyes on her companion, a ghost of a smirk on her lips. “I’m almost as good as you are.”
“Almost isn’t as good.”
She swats his arm and turns back to me. He only smiles once she’s looked away.
“They don’t write books on things like archery anyway,” Pippa says. “Only stuffy literature like the chronology of kings and their successors. I know—I’ve been forced to read those.”
“And monkeys.” I tap the book in my hand. “They write books on monkeys.”
She grins. “Yes, those too.”
I’m going to miss them when they go. In the short season she’s been here, Pippa has become as good a female friend as I’ve ever had. I thought Lionel was enough, but now that he’s gone, I realize how completely cut off I’ve let myself become.
“Are you finished?” Pippa asks when I’ve placed the last book.
“For now.”
She glances out the window longingly. “I don’t suppose you’d try riding again?”
“Not a chance.”
“Fine,” she huffs. She taps her fingers on her hip, obviously trying to come up with something else we can do.
“We can go back to the gardens,” I offer.
She grimaces. “I find the statues disturbing.” Her eyes light when she comes up with an idea. “I know. I’ll teach you to shoot!”
Archer raises an eyebrow. “You’ll teach her?”
“Hush,” she says to him, and then she pulls me from the hall.
The closer to the castle we get, the more anxious I become. Lionel is always in the practice yard, fighting with the knights. I’m sure to see him.
We pass through the gates into the courtyard. As expected, the prince is here. He looks up when we walk through. The knight he’s against takes advantage of Lionel’s distraction and lunges forward, knocking the prince to the ground. The men around him howl with laughter, taking pleasure in Lionel’s rare loss.
I look away. This certainly won’t improve his mood.
“Serves him right,” Pippa says under her breath, a smug look of pleasure on her face. “Come on.”
I stand in the armory, feeling uncomfortable surrounded by weapons I don’t know how to use. Pippa hems and haws, but it’s Archer who finally chooses a bow for me. They lead me to the targets, and we pick the farthest from the practice yard.
“Stand straight,” he instructs as he moves me into position.
It’s awkward to say the least. I completely miss the target the first and second try. After half an hour or so, I’m able to hit it consistently—though not anywhere close to center.
I take aim and let out a slow breath. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a man take position at the next target. I glance over in time to see Javid shoot and hit dead center. He turns to me and flashes a smug grin.
I look back at my own target and let the arrow fly. It clatters off the wall. Embarrassed, I lower my bow and turn to him. “And I thought you were the scholarly type.”
He rests his bow on the ground. “Yes, but I’m not a very good scholar.”
Pippa glances from me to him. “You know Javid?”
“We’ve met,” I say.
“Hello Pippa, Archer.” Javid turns his eyes back to me. “Grace.”
The way he says my name sends pleasant little shivers through me.
“Javid is my cousin of some sort,” Pippa says. “On my mother’s side.”
“You’re from Ptarma?” I ask.
He nods. I’m not sure why this surprises me. The copper highlights in his blond hair, his tanned skin and green eyes—it all fits. Still, I hadn’t thought him to have traveled so far.
“I expected to find you in the library this afternoon,” he says to me. “I was
surprised to hear you’d come here.”
Pippa raises her eyebrows at me and not-so-subtly pulls Archer to the next target.
I lower my bow to the ground before I look back at him. “I’m sorry. Were you looking for something in particular?”
His lips curve in a lopsided smile. He studies an arrow for a moment before he meets my eyes again. “Yes—you.”
Butterflies take flight in my stomach. “You found me.”
“So I have.” He looks over his shoulder at Pippa. “I’m stealing Grace for a while.”
She grins and then elbows Archer. “Have fun.”
I pick up the bow and quiver I’ve been using and glance at the armory. Archer steps forward and takes it from me. “I’ll put it back for you.”
I thank Archer and accept Javid’s arm. He’s rolled his tunic sleeves up in the heat, and I try not to think of my fingers brushing against his skin. He’s more muscular than I had expected, lean and strong. I grow warm and embarrassed at the thought and try to focus on something else.
Unfortunately, my eyes fall on Lionel. He’s spotted us from across the courtyard. Judging from the look on his face, he’s not pleased.
“Javid,” Lionel calls out, startling many of the men near him. He twirls a sword in his hand. “You can shoot a bow, but can you best me with a blade?”
“You don’t have to fight him,” I murmur.
Javid squeezes my hand before he drops it. “I’ll take a go at it.”
The visiting nobles spar constantly, but the look on Lionel’s face makes me nervous.
One of the knights tosses Javid a sword, and the two men face off. “Name the challenge,” Javid says as they circle.
“First blood.”
The men mutter amongst themselves, and I go cold. Lionel certainly isn’t playing friendly today.
“Any rules I should be aware of?” Javid asks.
Lionel narrows his eyes, and then he lunges. “Stay away from Grace.”
Javid’s quicker than I expected, and he easily side-steps the attack. “That’s not happening.”
I flinch as their swords meet. As they fight, a crowd begins to gather.
Pippa steps beside me. “How did this happen?”
I pull my eyes away to glance at her. “Lionel.”
Grace of Vernow: An Eldentimber Novelette (The Eldentimber Series) Page 3