I roll my cloth napkin in my lap and nod. Marigold sets her hand over mine and gives me a reassuring squeeze. I look at her, more grateful for her presence than she’ll ever know.
“Galinor will return when he receives the message,” she assures me quietly. “I imagine he’ll be back in less than a fortnight, perhaps sooner depending on where he was in Triblue when he left for Primewood.”
I try to smile. She makes it sound as if the span of time is nothing, but it seems so long.
Striving for normalcy, Teagan turns the conversation toward the Lestonian scrolls he’s acquired. I listen to his and Marigold’s animated conversation, not really hearing what they’re saying but comforted by the chatter nonetheless.
I escape to my rooms as soon as the meal is over. With Galinor gone, I find the castle empty and lonely. Pretty handmaids watch me with wary eyes. I wonder how many have convinced themselves they are in love with the handsome, second-born prince.
The days drag on, and as I wait, I begin to worry. Why isn’t Galinor back yet? Why haven’t we heard news?
Marigold does her best to distract me as we wait for Galinor’s return, but I hate to take her away from Teagan. I escape her and walk the back courtyard with Pika.
The gardens aren’t bursting with exotic flowers like the ones in Lauramore. Instead, they are overgrown with bushes and trees, making them the perfect destination for those seeking solitude. Spring flowers spill from urns and run free along the path. I step around them, careful not to crush the blooms. When I find a bench overlooking a shallow pool, I finally sit. Pika stretches at my feet, content to nap in the sunshine.
Irving finds me here.
“So, this is where you’ve been hiding.” He gazes around my sanctuary and gives me a small smile. “How are you?”
“I don’t know.”
He sits next to me, leaning forward to watch the sun’s rays play on the water. “You’ve gone and fallen in love with Galinor, haven’t you?”
“I’m afraid so.”
He tilts his head toward me, a wry smile on his face. “I figured as much.” Idly rolling a stick between his fingers, he looks back at the water. “For some reason, I’d always figured we’d…you know.”
“End up together?” I supply, my voice quiet.
“Yes.” He studies me. “We’re comfortable, you and I. Familiar. And I’ve never felt that frustration with you—that acute exasperation that makes me think I’m either going mad or…”
“Falling in love?” I let out a soft laugh. “You miss Rosie, don’t you?”
“I can’t get her out of my head.” He rubs a hand over his face. “It’s been—what? Three months? Four?”
I elbow him. “That’s a record for you, I believe.”
He meets my eyes, serious. “I know.”
“Go find her, Irving. Sweep her off her feet—we both know you’re capable of it.”
He raises a teasing eyebrow, but then his expression goes solemn. “No. Rosie’s made her feelings clear—perfectly and loudly clear. She doesn’t want to see me.”
I could throttle the prince and Rosie both.
“Don’t walk away from love, Irving. Grasp hold of it while you can.”
He raises an eyebrow. “There’s experience behind that brooding sentiment.”
“I sent Galinor away.” I tilt my head up to study the sky. “I don’t know if he’ll want me when he returns.”
Irving bumps his shoulder into mine. “Well, if he doesn’t, the two of us can be miserable together. Deal?”
I smile despite myself. “Deal.”
He smiles. “He’ll want you.”
“She would want you, too.”
