With her hand in his, they waded out into the water, and when they were chest-deep he stopped and allowed her to get used to the push and pull of the current.
‘Please don’t let go,’ she begged.
‘I won’t. You can trust me.’
‘I do.’
Vasili wanted to warn her that she shouldn’t, but he couldn’t deny that it satisfied some deep need in him to hear someone say it.
‘I used to watch the crowds back home playing in the water and wish I could join them. It’s funny...something as simple as frolicking at the beach can mean so much.’
Helia looked around the cove, seeing nothing but nature. Vasili had not only given her a taste of something she had always wanted, but he’d made sure to do it somewhere she would be safe and away from prying eyes.
‘Why are you being so kind to me?’
His grip on her loosened. ‘Would you rather I did not care about your well-being? I thought you wanted a friend in this marriage?’
‘I do, but after you’ve been forced to be King and to marry me, I don’t understand why you would do something like this for me.’
Helia knew he was kind. She had seen it in his interactions around the palace. But now that his kindness was directed at her, it was hard not to feel something for Vasili—and this was exactly why she hadn’t yet agreed to his terms.
‘I was forced to marry, Helia. I wasn’t forced to marry you. I made that choice.’
She noticed a frown flash across his face. There and gone.
‘You weren’t given much choice either, and that is my fault. This is the least I can do. I wish I knew your reasons for agreeing...maybe one day you will be comfortable enough to tell me.’
‘Maybe.’
‘I know so little of you.’
‘What do you want to know?’
‘Anything. Tell me about a good memory.’
That wasn’t what she had expected. She’d thought he would ask all the standard questions people asked when they attempted to get to know someone. Not Vasili. He wanted to know her heart. And maybe she could understand that, since he would have had to question the motives of every person in his life.
Helia wasn’t accustomed to sharing parts of herself with others, but for some reason she knew her most treasured memory would be safe with him.
‘My father was a florist, and every evening he would return home with a flower for me from the shop. Just one. I had a vase in my room, and by the end of every week it would hold a bouquet of beautiful mismatched flowers. I loved it.’
‘Which were your favourite?’ Vasili asked.
He seemed genuinely interested in her answer, and it allowed her to lose herself in the memory. It was as if she didn’t have to have her guard up, protecting her precious memories.
‘The irises. There were so many colours.’ Helia looked away, a small huff of laughter passing through her lips.
‘What?’
‘It’s just that I’ve never told anyone about that before.’
Maybe that was because she was too afraid to form friendships, lest those friends abandoned her too.
Hope had lived in the halls of the orphanage. A blessing and a curse. There had always been the hope that someone would be chosen by a family and would leave. It had rarely happened. And even if it had the rest of them would soon be alone again. If you were old enough to hope, you were usually too old to be adopted.
Vasili’s hand went around her waist, while the other cupped her cheek. There was nothing but utter sincerity in his eyes. ‘I’m honoured that you would tell me.’
It scared Helia that when it came to Vasili she was hopeful again. That was why she’d told him such a personal memory. She knew he couldn’t leave, given the reason they had married, but was it smart to open herself up to him when he wouldn’t ever be there for her emotionally?
