So, selfishly and rather cowardly—he had to admit as much—he was going to find out without any head-on confrontation. In the most roundabout way, he was going to obtain the answer to whether his budding concern that he would, in the coming few years, lose the one constant in his life that held any real merit. And that made it the right way, roundabout or not. At least in his eyes.
She was the constant that guided him when he needed it most. The constant that had become, for better or worse, such an ingrained part of him that the thought of losing her was like contemplating what it would be like to lose an internal organ. So, he would not risk putting ideas in her head by asking her outright if she, deep down in her hearts of hearts, wished to rip herself from him and leave him.
He reached for her hand, raising it above their heads as he turned them around to face all sides of the terraced walkway and those bearing witness. Someone shouted that he had cheated, that Iona was the real victor, getting several to agree. But the majority wore an expression he had least prepared for—disapproval. He had believed they would embrace her since he was embracing her, but there they stood, looking down their noses, guarded and suspicious of Iona’s intentions.
“They definitely believe I put you up to this,” she remarked.
“I will make it clear to them it was all my incentive,” he reassured.
“I told you this was a bad idea,” she said, tugging a little against his hold to signal he should stop showing her off to the crowd and allow her to leave.
He wasn’t going to let her get away so easily.
“Yes, but then you agreed to combat,” he reminded, trying to sound as encouraging as he could. She had been so adamantly against it but had ended up performing so well.
“Yes, I did,” she confirmed, no longer smiling; now, she glared at him. “On the unspoken understanding that we would meet in the same manner that we always have. No magic allowed in the training circle. Hasn’t that been the deal since you began sneaking me in here? I would have beat you, Mal, but you cheated to keep from losing face in front of them.” She nodded to the courtiers. “And in front of someone in particular,” she added, eyebrows raised.
He let go of her hand, and she shook her head at him. “I don’t believe you would have beat me, watermagic or no watermagic. And I assure you I have no idea to whom you are referring,” he stated, though his gaze drifted to the portion of the walkway sporting deeper alcoves, where certain ladies of the court liked to retreat on warmer days such as this one.
Iona smiled briefly at the dead giveaway he had just provided her, humming at his continued denial of how one of said ladies had caught his eye for quite some time now.
Lady Shannon.
“You think this is about impressing someone in particular?” he huffed, shook his head, and huffed again. His awkwardness when it came to the fairer sex was so unavoidable after two centuries of trying to master it, that he had given up on the endeavor altogether. He went on with a little more force, trying to infuse his words with the confidence they deserved, “I am the future ruler of the House of Water, and I simply wanted to make certain that I look the part. That’s the reason for the watermagic. And it’s theonlyreason.”
“You always were the most dreadful liar,” Iona stated, smile widening a tad, but her gaze was searching his face for the true answer. “What is all this really about, Malcolm?”
His hearts fluttered at how she could always see right through him. Of course, Lady Shannon’s presence for each practice and combat session was always a welcomed aspect, though a somewhat distracting one, but this moment had been about so much more. His eyes rested on Iona as he contemplated whether he should simply tell her. Should he try to explain to her that he was afraid she would pull back and move away? Ask her if there was any reason for him to hope she would stick around when the truth was that he had begun contemplating whether he was ready to share his day with someone other than her? Let someone else take up space…
Why did he feel as though Iona already knew? As though she had known before he did. Not that it should surprise him. She had been one step ahead of him since forever. It was a rather remarkable thought to consider that she knew his deepest desires even better than he did, that she might somehow have noted how seriously he had begun to long for the day when he would enter into a mating bond with someone who was certain to make a good queen.
“It’s about introductions,” he finally stated vaguely but with a smile that softened Iona’s furrowed brows. He could tell she was releasing her need for proper answers. It could wait. He was sure to get an earful that evening, but as long as she relaxed for now, he could build up a solid defense.
Besides, she had to concede that the manner in which he’d utilized his magic was to his credit. It had been clever and unexpected. He had an advantage; how was he not meant to wield it and secure his victory?
He reached out a hand, bidding her to let him usher her out of the circle, which made her barely suppress her giggles. He agreed it was ridiculously formal, but it was what was expected, so he merely shook his hand at her meaningfully. She did as asked and slipped her hand on top of his. It was a comfort to have her there. Not that he should be nervous around his own courtiers. It was simply that Lady Shannon…
And there she was, drifting out of the alcove as though she floated on air rather than walked on the ground. Her grace was one of her more obvious traits. She smiled brightly at him, her gaze staying on him rather than drifting for even a millisecond to the woman at his side.
“My prince,” Lady Shannon said, curtseying low once they stopped in front of each other. “A fine victory. Though I’ve always been of the school that argues a warrior is only as great as their opponent. If you wish to prove yourself a formidable swordsman, you should cross blades with a swordsman who is formidable, wouldn’t you agree, highness?”
“Yes, of course,” he murmured, having only heard half of her words as he was distracted by the depth of those brown eyes of hers. The irises were so dark they bordered on black, matching her raven black tresses, braided intricately, and falling down her back.
She was wearing dark green, which was her staple color, and though he had once dared to tease her that she really ought to be wearing blue since it was the color of his House, he had never done so again as, with a quirk of one brow, she had not even deigned to answer.
She made him feel unsettled in the worst and best of ways, and no matter how little she showed him that she might share in his growing affections, he found himself compelled to her side all the same. He looked for a glimmer of recognition, a sign of hope. He never felt as though his title did much to impress her, which might also be why he gravitated to her more than any of the other ladies at court. She didn’t seem to seek his approval, and so he sought hers all the more fervently.
“Lady Shannon,” he said, Iona removing her hand as they’d arrived to where he’d been ushering her. He felt the loss of the stability her touch had afforded him but swallowed the urge to reclaim Iona’s fingers. Instead he added to Lady Shannon, “I would very much like to introduce Iona of Lakely.”
Lady Shannon shifted her eyes from his, finally turning them on Iona with a mildly interested expression. She offered Iona a smile as sweet as anything, but her gaze was still laced with confusion. “Lakely,” she repeated. “Born there, were you?”
“I was,” Iona said.
“Nice area,” the lady commented. “Rather one too many lakes for my taste, but it’s as good a spot as any for an afternoon spent flying. Allowing one’s inner dragon more than an hour or two of expression is so very restorative. Wouldn’t you agree, highness? Remember when we went that time—was it last fall? And Patrick almost dropped out of the sky because that eagle appeared out of nowhere, and they ended up in a tussle?” She threw her head back and laughed, placing her hand on Malcolm’s arm before shifting so that she could slide her hand around it, hooking her arm with his.
He was unused to having her close to him, though her laughter was always welcomed. He chuckled along at the revived memory, uncertain how best to respond and possibly tease another laugh out of her.
“In my defense, it was a rather large bird,” Sir Patrick said, stepping out of the alcoves to join them.
