He laughs once, a dark, disbelieving sound. “Well, we’ll never find out if you’re right.”
I’m about to argue when the cry of trumpets sound through the air, announcing the arrival of someone important.
“He’s back!” I jump to my feet and race through the gardens and to the front.
As I round the corner, I stop suddenly, my heart in my throat. I’m scared. Scared he won’t want me.
A stable boy leads away an unfamiliar horse. He sees me and the questioning look on my face, and the boy takes pity on me. “It’s only a messenger who has returned,Your Ladyship.” He dips his head respectfully and turns toward the stables.
I let out a breath. Discouraged, every muscle in my body goes slack.
The king, queen, and Teagan stand gathered with the messenger in their private quarters. Though the door is open, I knock on the frame.
“Anwen.” The queen smiles wide. “We’ve good news. Galinor will return home soon.”
“Have you seen him?” I ask the messenger. “Is he well?”
“He is well, yes, but I have not seen him. I met his man in Estlebrook. The fellow’s horse went lame, and he asked me to deliver Galinor’s message. Since I was headed this way anyway, I was happy to oblige.”
I smile, biting my lip so I don’t cry.
If Galinor is well, why is he not here? Obviously, he’s not as eager to see me as I am him. What does that mean? Could one winter have changed his heart?
The man continues with his news, but much of it revolves around weather and kingdom gossip, and I’m not interested. I excuse myself.
“Please tell the king and queen I won’t be at dinner tonight,” I say to my lady’s maid once I reach my chambers. “I’m not feeling well.”
She nods and disappears through the door. My heart hollow, I lie down and stare at the bed’s canopy. How could I have sent Galinor away? What a fool I am.
Somehow, I drift to sleep. When I wake, I’m not sure what time it is. The only light comes from the candle burning low on a table by the door.
“I should have waited for morning,” a familiar male voice says.
Immediately alert, I sit up. Galinor sits at the end of my bed, studying me.
“You’re back,” I breathe.
He nods, his eyes on mine.
“And you’re alive,” I say needlessly.
Smiling, he scoffs. “I’ve come across much worse than Dimitri’s poor excuse for assassins.”
I don’t know what to say, so I turn my attention to my hands.
“Why are you here, Anwen?” Galinor asks, his voice not warm nor cold, only curious.
My heart twists in my chest.
“Dimitri said you were dead.” I search his eyes. “I didn’t believe him, but I had to know you were well.”
The bed shifts as he moves closer. “I’m not well.”
“You were hurt?” My eyes snap to his as I look him over for signs of injury.
He nods as he takes my hand and places it on his chest. “I’m broken.” His lips tip in a teasing, lopsided smile. “And it’s a wound that will never heal.”
My own heart picks up its pace, and I swallow. “Never?”
