I hesitate for a moment but then decide to just be myself. “Oh, it was certainly different. For one, the cows were much better company than some people I’ve met.”
The ladies around me chuckle, intrigued by my candour. I continue, warming to my audience. “There was this one timewhen Janus, my best friend, decided it would be a brilliant idea to challenge me to a race. Not on foot, mind you, but riding our neighbour’s goats.”
“Goats?” Lady Corinna echoes, eyes wide with amusement.
I nod, my grin widening. “Yes, goats. Ones we ‘borrowed’ without asking. Needless to say, the goats were not as enthusiastic about the race as we were. Mine refused to move an inch, and Janus’s decided it would be more fun to run in the opposite direction. We both ended up in a ditch of mud, with the goats looking on as if we were the ones acting ridiculous.”
The group erupts into laughter, the tension easing as my story draws them in. Even the usually reserved Keeper of Sentience, Thynara Voss, cracks a smile.
“You know,” Lady Mirabel says, leaning in conspiratorially, “I think I’d rather enjoy a day in the village. Your stories make it sound much more lively than the endless banquets and ceremonies here.”
“Then, just between you and me,” I say, lowering my voice in a mock whisper, “if you ever get tired of the castle, there’s always a place for you in our goat races. Maybe we could even find Janus to run ahead with a giant carrot to entice them to run.”
The women laugh again, genuinely this time, and I feel a warmth spreading through me, enjoying the brief sense of belonging.
Just as the laughter dies down, the doors leading to the garden swing open, and Rylan bounds down the steps with Mathis and a few other guards. His presence immediately commands attention, and the chatter among the women hushes. He’s wearing his training outfit,thattraining outfit, and even though I just saw him in it a few hours ago for our morning training session, my heart still skips a beat. I can’t helpbut notice how the other women unashamedly ogle him, their eyes following his every move with open-mouthed admiration. A tiny pang of jealousy flickers in my chest, but it’s quickly replaced by a quiet satisfaction; I get to see him like this every day. He moves with ease and confidence through the garden, as if he knows but couldn’t care less that all eyes are on him, and immediately makes his way to the queen.
“Mother,” he greets warmly, bending down to kiss her cheek. The queen’s face lights up with a genuine smile, the earlier sadness seemingly forgotten.
“Darling,” she says, her voice filled with affection, gently touching his face. “Are you and Captain Corvane here just to disrupt my peaceful tea with your antics?”
“Of course not, Mother. I would rather be caught dead than stand next to Mathis around all these lovely women. I wouldn’t want to be trampled in the stampede to get to him. I simply wanted to wish my mother a lovely afternoon,” he jokes, his smile so disarming I wonder if there is a single woman here not half in love with him. Other than me, of course. He’s just my mentor. Or so I keep having to remind myself.
But I do smile at the sweet, open way he is with his mother, the amount of love between them wrapping around me like a warm hug.
Rylan then turns his gaze, sweeping over the groups of women before settling on me. And for a second, I wonder if I’m imagining the way his eyes flare with heat. Whatever it is, it makes me grin at him, and he grins back. Seeing the direction of his attention, Julietta’s eyes narrow, and she pulls away from her little clique and approaches him with a confident smile.
“Hello, Rylan,” she begins, her tone sickly sweet and laced with familiarity. “We were just—”
But Rylan simply strides past barely acknowledging her ashe approaches me. His eyes sparkle with mischief as he stops in front of me, leaning down slightly to meet my gaze.
“Ah, I was wondering where my wayward disciple had disappeared to. Just this morning, she was practically begging me to have a triple combat training session today, yet here she is, sipping tea and eating all the fig tarts and leaving none for me,” Rylan jokes, referencing one of the bargains I’d tried to make to get out of the luncheon. He stands back, hands on his hips as he takes in my outfit. When he looks back up to my eyes, there’s no doubt that he likes what he sees, and butterflies take flight in my stomach from the look in his eyes. “Eirabella, perhaps you could wear this entirely too fetching dress to training tomorrow. I’ll be sure to be similarly dressed, so that we’ll match,” he suggests, a playful glint in his eyes.
I blink, taken aback by his directness, especially in front of everyone. Julietta and Selene glare at me over Rylan’s shoulder. I feel my cheeks warm, but I manage to muster a lighthearted response. Tilting my head slightly as though I’m sizing him up, I say, “Of course, as you wish, Your Highness. And what colour dress will you be wearing?”
Rylan laughs, clearly amused by my comment. “I’m not telling you. Where’s the fun in that?” he replies before straightening up with a wink.
Ignoring the other women vying for even just a sliver of his attention, he bows to me and then to his mother before leaving, Mathis chuckling softly behind him. And judging by the look on the women’s faces once he’s gone, I may have made some friends today, but I definitely have no small amount of enemies.
TWENTY-ONE
Eirabella
After what feelslike an endless combat session a few days after the queen’s luncheon, I’m about to stumble, exhausted, from the training room when Rylan appears in the doorway, dressed in a royal blue jacket and trousers outfit that makes his dark eyes pop right out of his ridiculously handsome head.
“Would you like to go for a walk? Get out of this damn castle for a bit?” he asks.
I blink in surprise but nod quickly as if afraid he’ll change his mind. “I’d love to. But I need to freshen up a bit.”
“I’ll be in the courtyard,” he replies with a small, almost boyish smile.
When I reach the courtyard half an hour later wearing a flowing skirt and lace corset outfit made of the leftover fabric from the dress I’d worn to the queen’s luncheon, Rylan is waiting, two King’s Guards standing a respectful distance behindhim. His eyes sweep over me, and for a moment, his usual composure slips, replaced by a look of genuine appreciation that makes my heart skip a beat. I can feel my cheeks warm under his gaze, and a familiar flutter stirs in my chest.
He steps forward and offers me his arm. “Shall we?”
I slip my hand into the crook of his arm, the warmth of his body instantly enveloping me. The connection feels intimate, almost too much, but I don’t pull away. I wonder if he notices—if he can feel the same tension that’s humming between us.
After a few moments, I finally gather the courage to ask, “So, what made you decide to invite me on this walk? It’s not every day the crown prince extends such a casual offer.”
