I bump his shoulder. “That’s how you knew how to take care of the arrow.”
Galinor nods, and then the smile leaves his face. “With all the training I’ve done, the tournament should have been simple.”
“You did well in the archery competition,” I remind him. “And you were poisoned before the joust and hand-to-hand. Lionel wouldn’t have stooped that low if he didn’t believe you would best him.”
“I feel as if the failure defines me,” he says. “I was tested, and I measured short.”
“You don’t believe that. You can’t.”
“You didn’t see the look on Pippa’s face every time I failed, every time I let her down.”
Pippa again.
I turn his face toward mine. “She’s happy now, isn’t she? Isn’t that what matters? You made that happen.” I gather my courage. “And you haven’t let me down—not even once. I’ve asked so much from you. For whatever it matters, you coming has meant everything to me.”
He trails his fingers over my cheek, and I shiver.
“You’re making it a little too pleasant to be stranded here on this island,” he teases, his voice soft. “I’m not sure I want them to find us tomorrow.”
My spirits soar at his words. I scoot closer to him and lay my head against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around my back and together we watch the fire flicker.
***
A ship appears on the horizon, and my gown is still damp. There is no way I am going to let them catch me in Galinor’s tunic, so I wear the wet dress anyway.
Also, I can’t bear the sight of Galinor shirtless in the bright, morning sun any longer.
Galinor puts out the fire, and then we wait for the ship, side by side. Dristan jumps from the vessel before it even docks. His limp has become much less pronounced in the last month, and I’m happy to see him moving so well. He races towards us and gives me a questioning look when he notices my wet gown.
“It’s nothing,” I assure him.
“You’re all right?” he asks me, and then he turns to Galinor. “My apologies. I’ve spoken with Jacques. He’s terribly sorry.”
I cringe. Judging from the look on Dristan’s face, I’m sure the captain is very sorry indeed.
“It’s not his fault,” Galinor answers. “He warned us several times.”
Dristan turns back to me. “Did you find the Altiers?”
I nod, excited. “They’re beautiful, and their coats are soft like a rabbit’s.”
Dristan’s eyebrows shoot up. “They let you touch them?”
Galinor crosses his arms and smirks. “I told you they would.”
“That’s amazing, Anwen.” Dristan’s eyes light up. “I might have to request a visit from you when the foals are born in the spring.”
The young prince looks so much better now that he’s home. Triblue suits him.
We follow Dristan to the dock. I know very little about boats, but even I can tell this is not Jacques’ ship. The body is sleek and a carved sea serpent graces the prow. It looks nothing like the tentacled beast I remember; this one is dragon-like and beautiful.
Dristan notices me admiring the ship and turns back. “She’s mine. Well, one of mine.” He grins. “Stunning, isn’t she?”
I nod in agreement as I walk the gangplank.
“I would have brought you myself yesterday,” he says, “but Mother would have been furious if I’d run off to the sea without visiting with her first.” He laughs and takes his place by the wheel.
Dristan calls out instructions to his crew and soon we race toward the mainland. Near the front of the ship, Galinor and I stand. Together we watch for whales. I’m disappointed we still haven’t seen one.
“Dolphins,” Dristan calls out as several of the gray creatures break the water’s surface close by.
The dolphins follow us, screeching and calling as they dive in and out of the waves. Their skin glistens in the sunlight, and I would love to touch one. I’m disappointed when they finally swim away.
I breathe in the sea air, wishing we could stay out all day. The nearer we come to Saltwreath, the closer I feel I am to Dimitri. As much as I need the changeling stone back, he’s the last person I want to see.
We reach the pier, and many men call out to Dristan, welcoming him back. Galinor and I wait for him, but popular as he is, we wait awhile.
I wander the pier, looking at both the large ships and the small fishing boats. Several are unloading cargo. I recognize merchants waiting for their goods. Their eyes are sharp as they calculate numbers in their heads.
For one fleeting moment, I wonder if Father is here. He can’t be, though. It’s during the day. He must be hidden away somewhere.
I rub my stomach, which once again churns when I think about what I’ve done.
“Anwen,” Dristan calls, “Are you ready?”
He and Galinor stand near the carriage, waiting for me.
I take a step toward them but am stopped by an incredulous voice behind me. “Anwen?”
I turn. There, in front of me, with the changeling stone around his neck, is Dimitri.
Chapter Seventeen
I stare at Dimitri with my mouth hanging open. He looks just like I remember him…but somehow disappointing. He’s not quite as tall as I thought he was, not quite as strong. His sharp eyes take in my scrutiny, and he moves a step toward me. Instinctively, I step back.
“Anwen,” he whispers, his brown eyes narrowing as if I’ve hurt him.
I open my mouth to speak, but I find no words. Instead, I turn from him, tilt my head in the air, and walk away.
Galinor gives me a questioning look, and when his eyes meet the man I was speaking with, his expression turns murderous. “Is that him?” he asks as I hold my hand out so he can help me in the carriage.
“I can’t do it, Galinor.” My voice shakes. “I’ll find him again during the festival, but I just can’t right now.”
Galinor’s eyes return to my face, and he softens. “All right.”
Dristan hesitates, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“No, Dristan,” I whisper. “He’s wearing the stone. He can transform into anything. Please, I want to be away from him.”
Dristan’s eyes flicker to me with indecision, but finally he joins us in the carriage and tells the driver to take us to Castle Calland.
“Anwen!” Dimitri yells, running to the carriage as we pass him. “Please!”
I don’t look at him. I can’t. As soon as we’re out of sight, I close my eyes and let hot tears trail down my cheeks.
***
“You walked away?” Marigold says, shocked.
The news of finding Dimitri was enough to drag Marigold out of the library. She and Rosie sit on my bed, watching a lady’s maid fix my hair.
Stunning is the only direction I gave the woman.
My gypsy outfit has been freshly laundered and mended. When I returned to my room, it was folded on my bed, waiting for me. A patch has been added where the arrow sliced through the fabric, but it looks all right on a gypsy skirt. I have it on now. Sandals have replaced my boots, and the maid has darkened my eyelids and lashes.
Tonight when I see Dimitri, I won’t look like a drowned sea rat.
“I wasn’t ready to face him,” I say. “He took me by surprise, and I didn’t have the upper hand.”
Marigold waves to what the maid has been doing to me. “This will give you that?”
Rosie laughs and tosses her lustrous chestnut hair behind her shoulder. “Yes, Marigold—when it comes to men, this will certainly give her an advantage.”
I blush a little, but I don’t care. Let Dimitri sweat.
“You’re not going alone, are you?” Marigold asks, concerned. “I’m not sure that would be wise.”
My eyes flash to her in the mirror. “You don’t honestly think I would let him trick me again, do you?”
Ignoring the temper in my voice, she answers, “It’s not safe to go alone.”
“Galino
r is going with me.” I smile at my reflection. “And Pika.”
“You’re taking the glasseln?” Rosie exclaims.
“She’s quite tame on a lead now. Besides, it won’t be much of a loss if she eats Dimitri.”
They both smile.
“Danver stays here, though.” I peer at the fox asleep on my bed. “If something were to happen—”
“You’ll be fine,” Rosie cuts me off.
I bite my lip. “But if something does?”
“We’ll take care of him,” the gypsy assures me.
“How are you and Irving getting along?” I ask, needing a distraction from tonight’s task.
Rosie rolls her eyes. “There is no ‘me and Irving’. I was a joke. A game. A distraction.”
“I don’t know, Rosie.” Marigold scrunches her nose. “I think for once, Irving might be sincere.”
Rosie snorts and glares out the balcony. “It doesn’t matter. He lied to me, and I’m done with him.”
Marigold gives me a small, sad smile. We’ve all come to like Rosie. Trust Irving to botch it all up.
“Bran has said I may stay in Triblue,” Rosie says. “They’ll find work for me somewhere.”
“You wouldn’t rather go back to your troupe?” Marigold asks.
Rosie sighs. “It hasn’t felt like my troupe since my father died, and that was several years ago. I’ll be happier here.”
A knock sounds at the door, and Marigold answers it. Galinor waits on the other side. I take one last look in the mirror, admiring my darkened eyes and glossy hair. I give the curls a toss and then turn to face Galinor. His eyes go wide when he sees me. His admiration makes me nervous, but I catch myself before I bite my lip. I don’t want to smear the stain that’s been applied.
I give Galinor a weak smile. “Are you ready?”
He raises an eyebrow and answers my question with one of his own. “Are you?”
I nod. “Let’s finish this so we can all go home.”
***
The attention Pika draws is astounding. People part for us, watching her with disbelieving eyes. She must be able to tell she’s on display, because she saunters in a way that only a feline can. Even with her wings tucked against her body, she’s impressive.
Galinor walks next to me. He isn’t in his gypsy garb like I am. Instead, he wears a tunic over a light chain mail shirt, his sword secure at his side. He has added something I’ve never seen him wear—his circlet. He’s openly proclaiming his nobility. Even to me, he looks formidable.
It doesn’t take long to find the troupe. Whispers of a blond gypsy with a glasseln must be circling, because Dimitri ends up finding us. He pushes through the crowds, curious. When our eyes meet, his jaw slackens. His gaze drifts from me to the glasseln and then back again.
Pika sits when I pause, waiting for our next move.
“Anwen, I can’t believe you’re here.” Dimitri steps forward. He hasn’t yet noticed Galinor by my side, or if he has, he’s ignoring him. He glances at Pika. “Is the glasseln safe?”
“For now,” I answer.
The crowd we’ve drawn moves back a few steps.
I stiffen when Dimitri crushes me to his chest. “Anwen, I can’t tell you—”
I push him away. “Save your words.”
Dimitri looks at me, hurt. He then glances at Galinor. His eyebrows knit, but he doesn’t acknowledge him. “Come on, let’s speak somewhere more private.”
He motions for us to follow him. Galinor nods me on, and he follows directly behind.
If Dimitri truly wanted to go somewhere more private, he wouldn’t be leading us to the middle of the festival. We walk through the streets, and Pika draws an even larger crowd. People gawk at her, treating her like she’s an act. This is exactly what I had hoped for. Dimitri is less likely to do something underhanded if there is a crowd of witnesses present.
Finally, he stops in a square not far from the eastern port. We’re in the heart of the festival now, and all around us there is music, laughter, and noise. There are tents nearby, many with gypsies doing their acts. Some juggle, some sing. Others are contortionists. They writhe this way and that, twisting their bodies in ghastly shapes. Everything delights the crowds.
Dimitri turns toward me, his eyes begging me to listen to him. “Wait here.” He holds up a hand. “Please, don’t leave.” He disappears into a tent that I recognize as his.
When he returns, he carries a large stack of parchment. He offers them to me and nods encouragingly when I don’t take them. I glance back at Galinor. Though he looks uneasy, he only shrugs.
I take the papers and flip through the stack. “What are these?”
“I tried so many times,” Dimitri says. “But a message was never enough to tell you how truly sorry I am for what I did.”
They’re letters, and they’re all to me. None of them are finished; most have been crumpled up at some point.
I love you, I’m sorry. I love you, forgive me.
The sentiments make me a little sick. I look up, wishing I hadn’t read them.
Dimitri steps forward, and his hands find my face. “I’m so sorry, Anwen,” he breathes, his dark eyes searching mine. “I can’t tell you how sorry.”
Galinor tenses beside me, but he doesn’t interrupt. I pull Dimitri’s hands from my cheeks, but he grasps my fingers so I can’t easily pull away.
“I’ve hated myself every day for leaving you,” he says. “I wanted to go back immediately, but I knew you would never forgive me.”
I don’t know what to say. My heart feels as if it’s ice. His words—his apologies—should thaw it.
But they don’t.
“I want the stone back,” I say. “And my horse.”
Dimitri’s face falls. “That’s why you’re here?”
He sounds as if his heart is breaking, and I do feel bad. I do. But not bad enough to give him what he wants. I don’t want Dimitri anymore.
Dimitri’s hands find my face again; his fingers wrap desperately in my hair. “Stay, Anwen. Please, stay with me. Marry me. Never leave me again.” His voice breaks. “I love you.”
I sigh. The conversation is making me weary. “You think you love me, Dimitri, but you don’t.”
I need to finish this and get the stone so Galinor can take me away. I glance at the prince, needing to reassure myself he’s still at my side.
Dimitri’s eyes flash to Galinor. “It’s because of him, isn’t it?”
Yes.
“You can make this up to me, Dimitri. I will forgive you for everything,” I plead, trying to draw his attention back. “Just give me the stone and let me go.”
It doesn’t matter what I say; Dimitri no longer hears me.
“Who are you?” the gypsy demands, finally acknowledging Galinor. “You may think you love her, but I loved her first. When we parted, my heart shattered.” Dimitri is livid now. “It was the worst mistake I’ve made in my life, and I have paid for it every day since.”
Galinor doesn’t answer.
Suddenly Dimitri’s face falls. “Don’t take her from me,” he begs. He turns back to me. “Don’t leave me.”
Galinor looks at me, helpless.
“Galinor, no,” I whisper.
Moments after I say the prince’s name, there is a small chorus of whispers in the crowd.
“Galinor?” someone finally calls out. “The prince who cheated in the marriage tournament?”
Laughter and jeers erupt from the crowd. Galinor’s jaw hardens, and all the color drains from his face.
“I heard he paid an archer to win the events for him!” a man hollers.
A woman laughs. “I heard the princess paid the archer to win the tournament for him.” She steps forward, raking her eyes over Galinor. “Not that I can blame her.”
“You want this man?” Dimitri says to me. There is so much disgust in his voice; I think I may slap him.
“They’re right,” Galinor says to me, his voice low. “And this man—he loves you, Anwen.
”
I grab his arm. “They’re not and he doesn’t.”
Galinor takes my hands. Somehow, I block out the roar around us. He leans close, his eyes locked on mine. “This is what you wanted—you can be with him.”
My eyes sting, but I refuse to cry. “No.”
The prince pulls me into his arms, crushing me against his chest in a goodbye. “You’ll be happy,” he whispers in my ear and steps back, turning to Dimitri. “Her father is cursed. You will give the stone back so she may take it to him.”
It’s not a request.
“I didn’t know.” A shadow crosses Dimitri’s face. “Of course I will.”
Galinor nods, obviously unable to hear the lie in Dimitri’s words.
“Galinor, no!” I say, irritated this time.
“You can have everything, and your father will get his stone back.” He searches my eyes, trying to make me understand. “I’m not going to stand in your way.”
“I won’t be happy without you.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t want me.” He motions to the crowd as if this group will prove his point. “Goodbye, Anwen.”
Dimitri wraps his arms around me so I won’t dart after Galinor. I glance at Pika.
This would be an excellent time for her to attack Dimitri, but she seems bewildered by the chaos.
Dimitri clutches me tight. “You’re confused, and I’ve hurt you, but I promise I will fix everything.”
I fall against him and sob.
***
Dimitri holds a drink out to me. “This will make you feel better.”
I snort. “You really think I’m going to drink something you’ve had your hands on?”
Dimitri purses his lips so hard they go white, and he works to hold back his temper. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m sorry?”
“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t care?” I lounge across the furs on his cot, stroking Pika. I look away and sigh with disdain. I do it just to frustrate him further.
It works.
“Why are you being so difficult? What do I need to do? Beg?” Dimitri falls to his knees and grabs my hand. “Grovel?”
The Eldentimber Series: Books 1 - 3 Page 40