“What are we going to do?” She presses her hands to either side of her head, looking as if she’s about to hyperventilate. “He can’t marry an entertainer from the streets.”
Deep down I know I should take insult to this, but when I hear her say it, I know she’s right. Exactly what was I thinking when I decided it was a good idea to run away with Dimitri?
“He’ll tire of her,” I say confidently. “He always does.”
She eyes me. “Are you all right? Does it bother you very much?”
“A little,” I admit. “But only because it stings my pride. I don’t love him anymore.”
Marigold shuts her eyes. “What will his father say? Or the queen?”
I shake her very gently before she can work herself up again. “They won’t say anything. This fling will be over long before we reach home.”
She opens her eyes and gives me a helpless look as she motions to her hastily constructed gown, with its scarlet scarves and coins. “I don’t think I can do this, Anwen.”
“Of course you can!” I give her an encouraging smile. “You look lovely.”
“You realize we’ll have to travel with this girl, don’t you? Sleep together in Irving’s infamous caravan cart?”
I frown, not liking the idea much myself. And we have yet to see the cart in question.
“I’m sure everything will work out just fine.”
But even I’m not convinced by my words.
“Are we truly traveling to Lenrook? That’s a least a week’s ride.”
We could make our way back up to Glendon, go through Primewood, drop Marigold off at the castle, and then drop back down and travel to Lenrook, but that would add another three or four days to our trip. Dimitri might be gone by then.
“Please, Marigold. For me?”
We shouldn’t be going through dragon territory, so I know Marigold will be all right.
I nudge her and grin. “It will be an adventure.”
She groans. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“Not really.”
She sighs, staring at the horizon. “Promise me one thing?”
I nod, waiting for her to continue.
“No matter where we are when it comes time to gohome, tell me we’ll travel through Glendon?” Her hazel eyes twinkle even as her cheeks turn pink.
Laughing, I promise, “I don’t care if we’re all the way in Ptarma—we’ll loop back up just so you may see Teagan again.”
Chapter 12
The caravan cart is oddly enchanting. Narrow double doors open to a cozy little room. A bed on a platform is at the very end with two steps to climb up into it. A small bench doubles as another bed, and a little table nook sits across from it. There are cabinets and dozens of small drawers built into the walls. Soft silks and furs are draped everywhere, many with tassels hanging from them. I run my hand along the wood trim. It’s dark and gleaming.
“We’ll share the bed,” Marigold whispers conspiratorially. “Irving’s trollop can take the bench.”
I giggle, elbowing her in the side.
A feminine someone clears her throat behind us, and we both freeze. Together, we slowly turn, already knowing who we’re going to find.
The young woman raises her eyebrows and gives us a wry smile. “Hello. I’m Rosalina—most people call me Rosie.”
