He stops climbing for a moment and stares at me, something like wonder in his eyes. “No one’s…ever asked me that before.”
“You’re welcome,” I giggle. “I have more difficult questions if you’re ready.”
He makes a face. “I much rather what I had in mind when I said you’d make it hard on me,” he growls.
“The day’s still young, my prince. Depending on your answer, you might like what else I have in my mind,” I tease him, feeling a little thrill. “So, what’s the answer?”
He presses his hand to my back, urging me up the steps again. “Growing up, I always wanted to be Celestaris. My aptitude for magic was always special, even as a child. And I thought that that was how I was going to make a difference. But as I’ve matured, I realise I was born to the responsibilities of crown prince, and one day, king. I didn’t pick that. It’s a privilege that the stars destined for me. It is my obligation, my birthright, no, duty, to learn everything I can so that one day I can be the best king this kingdom has ever had. And I can’t treat that lightly.”
I can’t help but smile at the conviction of his answer. “You’re also a natural teacher. You know, once you get over the shouting phase. Maybe you should add teaching to being prince and Master Keeper.”
He laughs, the sound warm and rich, velvety smooth. I want to bathe in it, wrap myself in it, feel it directly on my skin.
“Oddly flattering coming from my only pupil. A pupil that needed a little shouting to get her to listen, by the way. Unfortunately, I think I may have enough roles as it is.”
We reach the top of the stairs, stepping out onto a hidden balcony that overlooks the entire capital. The view takes my breath away—the city sprawls beneath us, a labyrinth of streets and buildings, bathed in the golden light of the warm sun.
“Wow,” I sigh, completely awed.
“I come here when I need to clear my head,” Rylan says, leaning against the stone railing, watching me. “It’s one of thefew places where no one knows to find me. Or knows better than to come looking for me.”
I step closer to the edge, taking in the breathtaking sight. “It’s utterly beautiful,” I murmur. “Wow…” I sigh again.
He watches me with an intensity that makes my heart race. “I’m glad you like it. I, er, hoped you would, Eirabella.”
I try to embed the way he says my name into my brain, knowing I’ll be replaying it when I lay awake in bed tonight, thinking about the day. Then he breaks the silence by clearing his throat and gesturing to a small picnic laid out behind us. “I also thought you might be hungry after training.”
My heart warms at the sight—sandwiches, pastries, fruit, and a bottle of wine with two glasses. And of course, a giant bowl of ice cream.
“You thought right,” I say, my voice softer than I intend.
“You’ve been through a lot. The sustenance will help you make a full recovery. I asked Doran and Brienne what your favourite foods were. Hopefully there’s something here you like to eat.”
It’s thoughtful, personal, and I feel a rush of emotion that catches me off guard. “I don’t see any banana pudding,” I joke.
“There was. I threw it over the side of the roof,” he shoots back, dryly.
I laugh as he picks up a folded blanket and lays it out on the ground before gesturing for me to sit down. Shyly, I take the wine glass he pours me. It’s stronger than I expect, and I giggle, the tension in my body almost immediately easing as the alcohol seemingly loosens my tongue. “Why, Your Highness, is this how you treat all the ladies of the court? Wooing them with your stunning views and rooftop picnics?”
Rylan lets out a scoff as he picks up a leek tart and pops it into his mouth. “Hardly. You’re the only person I’ve ever brought up here.”
His confession takes me by surprise, which I mask by leaning in slightly, teasing. “Are you saying I’m special?”
“Yes.” His gaze darkens, his eyes locking on mine in a way that makes my breath catch. “Do you doubt it?” he asks, his voice low and sincere. His gaze flickers down to my lips, and I can’t help but run my tongue along them, feeling self-conscious, heat between us building, my heart pounding in my chest. But then, just as quickly, he blinks and pulls back, clearing his throat as if shaking off the moment. He pours himself a glass of wine, avoiding my gaze.
I laugh softly into my wine glass, trying to ignore the way my pulse is still racing. “Alright, then. I have another question, since I’ve had some wine now.”
He glances at me warily. “Go ahead.”
I pause, then ask the question that’s been on my mind since I woke up in his arms in the inn. “How did you get that scar on your neck?”
Rylan stiffens, his jaw tightening, his hand reflexively coming up to run along the imperfect skin of his neck. For a moment, I think he won’t answer, but then he lets out a slow breath. “It was... an accident,” he says, his voice strained. “When I was a teenager. There was a fire.” I sit up, watching him closely. His eyes turn hazy, distant, as if he’s reliving the memory. “I was reckless. There was an accident, and someone died. A very close friend. She was seventeen at the time, I was nineteen. Her, er, her name was Val.”
Val.
Valora.
It all makes sense now. The longing in his voice when he’d whispered it in his sleep, the cold exterior, the tortured look in his eyes when he drops the mask. The weight of his words hits me like a punch straight to the exact centre of my solar plexus, winding me. What a tragedy at such a formativeage.
