He had thought of how she gave the perpetual impression of a mermaid grown legs and forced to walk the land, though her hearts belonged… Where?
“I have no ego,” he replied laconically, making her laugh. “Would it not serve me well if I did?”
“Yes,” she’d said, taking a step back to observe her handiwork, a soft frown on as her gaze had drifted from his feet to his head and she must have noticed a stray lock out of place. She had stepped close again to fix it, adding, “It would serve you marvelously. But I confess I prefer you without it.”
Her fingers had raked softly through his hair, and he’d felt the most compelling need to close his eyes at the touch but had kept them open, studying her face.
“How so?” he’d asked, but she’d merely smiled wider, refusing to tell him.
“That said, you cannot indulge your opponents in such a manner during the tournament.”
“Of course not,” he’d said, reaching up to stop her hands, grabbing her wrists and bringing her arms down in order to get her gaze to focus on him. “I mean to win them,” he’d added.
She’d stared at him then, her wrists loosely circled by his fingers and her closeness sending her scent into his nostrils, one of fresh laundry and flour and the cold stones of the lower levels of the castle.
“You will do your father proud if you do,” she’d said, the moment broken as she shifted enough to signal it was time for him to let her go.
He did not want to let her go, she must see that. He wanted her to remain. But she had turned from him and walked out of the room to ready his bed and stoke the fire in his hearth, as was her custom at this time of night.
I wish to doyouproud.
The thought had entered his head and then left just as swiftly.
He had to stop caring so very much about what she thought of him. He had to begin to make choices for himself. And so, as she had failed to show up that morning, he stared at the pieces of his wardrobe brought out to him. He had to choose an outfit befitting a prince sent to greet the arriving tournament guests. Their ships were all flocking to the harbor and the passengers were set to step onto land in less than an hour.
Quickly, his mind encouraged.Simply point at something.
And so, he did.
***
“Highness,” Lady Shannon greeted him once he joined her in the castle courtyard. They were forming the welcoming party and would ride down to the harbor together to greet the arriving crowned heads and dignitaries.
The lady was already seated on her white mare; her appearance, Malcolm noted, as ever impeccable. Her black locks had been arranged in an ever more intricate set of braids, partially hidden by a feathered riding hat, making her look like the true highborn that she was. She never wore her hair down, in fact, as was the habit of the lower classes. Her eyes traveled over him for the briefest instant, and yet he could tell the reaction she tried to hide.
She managed to keep any judgment out of her tone and said, flatly, “You look very… good this morning.”
He had to keep himself from turning and going in search of Iona to berate her for not appearing to help him dress. He would then promptly usher her back to his rooms so that she might choose a more appealing combination of fabrics for him. He was in a dark purple jacket which he had paired with a dark green shirt and breeches of the same color. A silk cravat of purple and green had inspired him, and he wore it around his neck, letting it dip below the collar of the shirt. However, under the carefully weighed scrutiny of the lady, the silk felt as though it was wound too tightly. He was even beginning to feel overheated with it against his skin.
“It’s rather warm, isn’t it?” he asked, pulling the cravat loose, unwinding it from around his neck before he pulled the jacket off and tossed it to the nearest groomsman. Removing the garment meant that he was dressed too informally for where he was headed, but he would much rather cause somewhat of a stir that way than causing it by looking like the idiot who didn’t know how to dress himself in a manner befitting an heir.
He could see Lady Shannon’s expression of concern melt into one of approval and took it for a good sign, taking the reins that were being held out to him by the stable boy and, with practiced grace, got himself into the saddle of his horse.
“Ready?” the lady asked, a smile on her face that was both comforting and disconcerting all at once, putting him at ease, but also setting his skin tingling with hope that he might be able to keep that smile on her face for the entire ride.
“Ready.” He nodded.
Hosting the ruling monarchs of the four kingdoms was a great honor. It was only on the rarest of occasions that they all got together in the same place and Malcolm knew his father took the responsibility very seriously. The Houses of Fire and Air had fairly recently had their heirs crowned, but Earth still sported its aging monarch and its prince—Prince Ewan—had yet to be presented with his first and last trial.
As Malcolm and Lady Shannon rode out through the fortified gates of the castle and entered the main street of the citadel, they were met by people lining either side of their thoroughfare, cheering as they passed them by. Malcolm was pleased to note that his subjects were happy to see him, waving excitedly.
Of course, it wasn’t all for him. He was well aware that everyone gathered had done so knowing that soon there would be a steady stream of prominent tournament attendees riding up from the docks and to the castle.
Wooden poles had been stuck into the packed earth of the street and decorative garlands of flowers hung from them in a flowing wave of different shades of blue, lining the path and essentially creating a route between harbor and castle for anyone unfamiliar with the citadel.
The whole place was in a celebratory mood, especially since the knights of the realm would begin to make their appearances the following morning. It never failed to put a clamor into people’s step whenever a fully armored knight was riding through the streets. There was excitement and anticipation in the air in lieu of the fact that, in the coming week, there promised to be plenty of such sightings.
Malcolm had asked Lady Shannon to join him as his representative of the ladies at court. He’d almost backed out of inviting her since she had that habit of making his nerves feel as though they were on the outside of his skin, but then had figured that even in the event of her making him tongue-tied, she was smooth and well-mannered enough to do all the talking for him.
