by Wendy Wang
“Please. What is your question?”
“There are countless other girls whose matches you could partake in. Why mine?”
“Well, aside from the obvious things, like your beauty, I suppose I find you interesting. You’re smart, headstrong, and if I’m going to spend the rest of my life with someone, I would like it to be with someone who will challenge me.”
“That’s funny. I’ve heard you can get the stocks for challenging you.”
“Only if you’re one of my men.” His eyes glittered with humor in the moonlight.
“Good to know.” She smiled and breathed in the cool scent of the water. “This is my favorite place, you know.”
“Because of the fish?” he said.
“I do love the fish, but no. It’s the fountain. My father designed it. Oversaw the installation. It’s all gravity fed, you know.” She remembered her father holding up two statues—a long-necked bird with its wings expanded fully, beak in the air where the water would spout and a graceful pixie with her hand extended to a butterfly. “Which one do you think will bless us the most, my wee love?” her father had asked. There had been no question in her mind. The pixie. Her father had had it installed the very next day and it had adorned the fountain ever since, blessing the fountain with the water flowing from her hand into the pool below.
“Your father was a very smart man.”
“Yes, he was,” she whispered. A pang filled her chest.
“You miss him very much, don’t you?”
“I do. Sometimes I come here just to be close to him. To remember him—the real him—not the stiff, painted portrait of him hanging in the palace library.” It was rare to talk about him with anyone outside the family. She cleared her throat so the chief would not hear the emotion knotted there.
“I’ve upset you?” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.
“I’m fine, really.” She held up her hand, not wanting him to make a fuss.
“You sure?”
“Positive. He wouldn’t want us to be sad.”
“No, he wouldn’t. I’m glad to see the Queen finally coming out of her sadness.”
“I am, too.”
Silence crept up between them and Neala closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the water and the persistent music coming from the palace. Cai cleared his throat and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. He glanced back at her and sighed.
“Something you want to say, Chief?” she said.
“It would seem my brother’s taken something of an interest in you.” He stared at the fountain, even though neither of them could see it very well.
“Why do you say that?” Neala’s fingers tangled together in her lap, fidgeting.
“He stared at you most of the night then spent the rest trying to make you jealous.” Cai’s voice lowered.
“Well, that’s a waste of his time,” Neala scoffed.
“Is it? Because you’re not jealous?”
“There’s no point in being jealous. My mother—” She paused, not wanting to offend Cai. Peter was still his brother. “She doesn’t really approve of him.”
“Your mother is very wise. Peter is…well, he can be trouble. I know you and he have spent quite a bit of time together.”
“How do you know that?”
“I know you believe you outsmarted Captain Gubler and me.”
“Cai—”
“It’s all right. I’m not angry. I’ve been keeping track of Peter’s comings and goings for a while now.”
“Why?”
“Let’s just say he’s made some questionable decisions and leave it at that for now.” Cai’s tone made it clear he wouldn’t budge on the subject.
“My mother thinks he may try to influence me. Keep me from being matched.”
“And that may be. Honestly, I don’t know what his agenda is yet. I can’t go into what I think it is. At this point, it’s just speculation, but the last thing I want is to see you get hurt. May I offer you some advice?”
“Can I stop you?” she quipped.
“If you wish—” The chief sat back and folded his hands across his lap.
“Cai, you must learn to take a joke.” She chuckled, trying to lighten the heaviness that had invaded the space between them. “What is your advice?”
“Be careful of my brother. I know he’s charming and handsome. He’s also well aware of the affect he has on women and I’ve only seen him be loyal to one girl, and even that loyalty is questionable.”
Neala nodded, processing Cai’s words. Peter knew the effect he had on women. Was that what that kiss was all about? Was he actually trying to affect her? Why?
“All right,” Neala said softly. “I’ll be careful.”
Cai blew out a breath and his shoulders relaxed a little. “Good.”
“What about you?” she asked.
“What about me?”
“Have you ever been loyal to a girl?” she said. “And my mother doesn’t count.”
“If you must know, there’s only been one girl I’ve ever had feelings for,” he said softly.
“What happened? Obviously, you weren’t matched,” Neala asked, before her brain could catch up with her mouth.
Cai chuckled and shook his head. “Not yet. We’ll have to see what happens.”
We’ll have to see what happens. What did that mean? Was she—? Her face and chest burned as if they were on fire. “Oh.” A silly, high tittering escaped her lips that she’d never heard before. “I see.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Cai said. “But you asked.”
“You didn’t.” She sat up straighter, moving to the edge of the seat. “It’s good to know where you stand on things.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” he said sounding a little wary.
“We’ll know soon enough what the fates have planned.” She shrugged.
“Yes. I suppose we will,” he said.
“Please excuse me. I’m very tired. I think I’ll retire for the evening,” she said. Her shoulders and arms felt heavy, as if a huge weight had been thrust upon them.
“If I’ve offended you, Highness, I apologize,” he said.
“You haven’t. Stop apologizing.” She rose from the bench and he hurried to his feet, facing her. “Thank you for your advice and for your candor. You’ve given me quite a bit to think about.”
“I’ll escort you back,” he said.
“No. That’s really not necessary,” she said. “Stay. Enjoy the fountain.”
“Highness, I don’t say these things to hurt you. That is the last thing I would ever want,” the chief said.
“I know.” Reaching for his hand, it surprised her when her fingers tingled from the touch of his skin. “As you well know, I am an early riser. So I think I will bid you good night.”
“Of course, Your Highness. Sleep well.” He bowed his head.
Neala headed back up the path to the palace. As she approached the stone arbor, she glanced over her shoulder. The chief stood on the path, a dark silhouette, watching over her until she rejoined the crowd on the terrace. When she looked again, he had melted into the darkness of the garden.
“Hello, Princess.” Peter stepped from behind the large evergreen topiary flanking the garden path, startling her. Her hand went to her throat, grasping the gold locket hanging around her neck.
“Peter.” She nodded.
“Did you go for a walk without me?”
She turned and faced him, meeting his gaze with a smirk. “I know this is hard to believe, but I do lots of things without you, Peter. Like now. I’m going to go upstairs, strip out of this dress and climb into my bed. All without you.”
Peter’s throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed. Color streaked his cheeks as she turned her back on him and pushed her way through the crowd, satisfied with herself for making him stare after her.
Six
Neala waited for Gordon in the hallway to the delivery entrance
of the palace. Hand in pocket, her thumb stroked the smooth glass of her timepiece. Every time the door opened her heart lurched a little, hoping it would be him. Two other security officers stood by the back door talking. She recognized one of them as Henry Littleton, Francie’s security officer. He glanced at her and gave her a smile.
“You all right, Highness?” Henry asked.
“I’m fine, thank you,” she said, eyes still on the door.
“You look like you’re getting ready to take off for the sky.”
“What?”
“The way you keep bouncing on your toes like that.” He pointed to her feet. “Do it enough and you might just take flight.” He chuckled.
“I guess I’m ready to get going this morning. That’s all.” She gave him a perfunctory smile. “You wouldn’t happen to know what’s keeping my security officer, would you?”
“No, ma’am. Sorry. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
“Right. Thank you.” She pulled her timepiece from her pocket and glanced at it. 7:30 a.m. Where was he? Maybe she should send a communiqué to the warden base. Maybe he was sick. The door opened and she craned her neck, but it was just one of the footmen bringing in a basket of potatoes for Cook.
Her mind kept going over the conversation she’d had with Cai last night at the festival. Cai had been watching Peter’s movements for weeks now. Why? Surely he would have told her, if she was the reason, wouldn’t he? Did he know that Peter had followed her to the dress shop last week? That he had kissed her? Would he tell her mother? She fiddled with her collar, wishing that Gordon would appear. She wanted to get out into the woods to think and to figure out what she was going to do about Peter. She was supposed to meet him today near the port stone. Would he leave her alone if she just didn’t show? Something inside told her he wouldn’t. Rubbing her thumb over her ruby pendant, wishing she hadn’t teased him, worry chewed at her.
The door opened again and several more wardens filed inside, huddling with the other security officers, their faces all serious and grim. Neala turned her head and tried to listen, but they kept their voices too low for her to make out anything. She knew she shouldn’t, but she closed her eyes and took a breath.
In her mind’s eye, she imagined the roots of a tree, weaving into a net, a net so perfect that it would catch and reflect any thought that got caught in it. Picturing Henry’s face, she broke the law and listened to him without his permission. His thoughts filtered through her head as he pictured his wife, his daughters and how this news would affect them, should he be sent into battle. Battle? Neala concentrated harder, as she listened through Henry’s thoughts to the commander giving them their orders.
“Right now, going to the front is all on a volunteer basis. We still need people here to protect the city should the Nydians and Casilladins break through the fold. This group will be the core protection for the palace,” the commander said. She felt Henry’s relief as it washed through him onto her. He would be able to stay here. Be able to keep his family safe. If anyone could be safe from war. Neala’s eyes opened and she backed away from the group.
So, had the Nydians joined forces with Casilladin? Or was this a separate bid for freedom from her mother’s rule? Neala’s stomach wrenched.
The door opened again and Gordon walked through it. A deep frown line marred his forehead, his lips pressed into a straight line almost disappearing in his beard. He flashed his eyes towards her as he stopped to join the others. She took a step forward and Gordon shook his head slightly, warning her to stay back. Neala frowned and leaned against the wall to wait. A few minutes later, the group broke apart and Gordon approached her with no sign of his usual smile.
“Good morning, Highness.” He offered a smile, but she could tell it was forced. “I trust you had a good time at the festival last night.”
“Is it true? We’re at war with Nydia?” she said.
His smile became more forced and his eyebrows rose. “Nothing gets past you, does it? You should seriously consider becoming a warden. Your instincts are very sharp.”
“You and I both know that can never happen.” She scowled.
“Never say never, Highness.”
“So, I take it I’m not allowed out today.” Neala bit the inside of her lip to keep from cursing in front all these wardens.
“No, ma’am.” He shook his head, his eyes full of pity. “I’m sorry. We could take a walk around the grounds if you’d like. I’ve heard the rose garden is a wonder.”
Neala sighed. “The roses don’t bloom until summer, Captain.”
“Understood.” Gordon’s cheeks pinked. “What would you like to do?”
“I suppose I’ll just go back upstairs and read or paint.” Neala’s chest tightened. The walls she’d escaped just two months ago were now closing in on her again.
“As you wish.” He bowed his head. “I’ll be down here if you change your mind about a walk. Just send word and I’ll be right up.”
“I can’t even walk the grounds by myself?” she asked.
“No, ma’am.” Gordon grimaced and shook his head. “Sorry. Chief’s orders,” Gordon said.
“Did he chew your tail about it this morning?” She crossed her arms.
“Let’s just say I have no tail left.” He chuckled and his eyes glinted with good humor.
“I’m sorry about that,” she said.
“Not to worry. The chief, as always, was correct. I should not have let you send me home.”
“Still, I am sorry.” She shook her head. “Cai needs to just—”
“Now, Highness, you and I both know that he will always do whatever it takes to protect the Queen and her daughters. It’s his job and he’s very good at it.”
“Of course. You’re right.” Neala conceded to diplomacy, knowing the captain would always defend Cai. She glanced at the kitchen door and jerked her thumb towards it. “I think I’m just going to go upstairs.”
Gordon bowed his head. “Of course. Call for me if you need me.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Neala said. She turned and wound her way back to the family’s private quarters. Neala turned right as she reached the hallway to the Queen’s apartments and she passed another warden standing guard. She nodded at him and gave him a tight smile. She passed through another set of doors, until finally stopping at the heavy, carved door with a lock on it. Reaching in her bag, she dug around until her fingers found a star. The copper key ring jangled against the one key attached to it, and she pushed it into the lock and turned until it clicked. She opened the door and went inside.
As soon as the door closed behind her, Peter pinned her against it and kissed her. She struggled against him, pushing him off of her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She held her arm up, but he pinned her wrists.
“Exactly what you wanted me to do.” He pressed his body against hers and kissed her again until her body heaved, causing every part of her to ache in ways she had never known before.
“Stop.” She dragged her mouth away to catch her breath. The hint of stubble on his face scratched against her skin. He kissed his way to her ear, suckling on the soft lobe, making her mind muddled. “Please. Just stop. This can’t happen. I’ve already told you.” She forced her hands between them, pressing hard against his chest.
“You’re so scared of your mother,” he whispered against her ear. “You won’t even consider embracing your own happiness?”
“She will banish me if she catches us together.”
“So? Come away with me,”
“What?”
“You heard me. If we go today, we could be someplace safe by tonight. Someplace where it’s just you and me. No match to worry about. No protocols to follow.” He brought his lips back to hers, kissing her long and slow this time.
“Peter…I can’t.” She wriggled from beneath his grip, moving into the center of the room. His body stiffened and he rested his forehead against the door. “You need to go.”
“So that’
s it?”
“Yes.” She crossed her arms and stared at the rug, her cheeks burning, her lips tingling. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I’m the one who over-stepped. Based on what you said last night, I thought this was what you wanted.” He turned and faced her.
“I shouldn’t have said what I did.” She let herself glance into his face. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s still something I want to show you.” He stepped closer and she moved backwards, resting her hand on the hilt of her dagger.
“What is this great thing you need to show me?”
“I went through one of the paintings.”
“You did?” Neala looked him straight in the eyes, searching for—she wasn’t sure what. Was he trying to trick her? “How did you get back?”
“I found someone who could breathe life into the paintings and she painted a passage back to this realm for me,” he said.
“Grizelda’s ghost, are you joking with me? I’ve been searching through every book I could find on the subject. Every single one is missing the pages about the technique.” Her belly filled with butterflies from excitement and her mind bubbled over with questions.
“You can meet her if you want. I’m sure she’d be happy to tell you what she knows,” he said.
“Oh my goodness, that would be—” She stopped herself. What was she doing? She couldn’t go with Peter. Not unless she wanted to risk being disowned. She sighed. “I can’t.”
“I don’t think your mother would object.”
“Of course she would.”
Peter frowned and his eyes seemed to lose focus for a moment. She could almost see the wheels of his mind working. For once, she wished she could punch through the wall he had around his true thoughts so she could hear what he was thinking. “She wouldn’t have to know you were with me.”
Neala shrugged. “She would, though.”
“You would tell her?” He glared at her.
“No. Of course not!” Indignant, her face burned at his question. Even without reading him, she knew some of his secrets. Secrets that could have gotten him into big trouble.