Dristan surprises me by wrapping his arms around me. “Remember, you must come back in the spring when we collect the foals.” He holds me at arm’s length. “Or sooner, if you need to.”
“I will,” I answer.
Less eloquent than his brother, Bran only pats my back. “Goodbye, Anwen.”
I don’t even want to look at Marigold. She’s been crying since I returned, and seeing her tear-stained face might do me in. I turn to her anyway.
She throws her arms around me. “Oh, Anwen, I’m so sorry.”
I pat her back and assure her I’ll be fine. I’m not surewho’s soothing whom.
Finally, I turn to Irving. He raises an eyebrow as he extends his arms, and I step into them. The prince reminds me so much of home, I’m afraid I’m going to lose my calm any moment. I back up quickly and pull away.
He flicks a curl out of my face, his eyes understanding. “We’ll return home after Teagan shows Marigold the journals fromLestonia.” He says the last word in a mocking voice, and he glares at Galinor as if it’s his fault Teagan has taken a liking to Marigold.
Galinor rolls his eyes and shifts next to his horse. The prince has offered to take me to Primewood while the others return to Glendon, and I can’t delay my return any longer. I wish the group could come with us, but my aching heart is glad for the solitude.
Irving gives Pika a farewell scratch, and Rosie cuddles Danver close to her chest. When she lets the fox out of her arms, I turn to Galinor and take a deep breath.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
Nodding, I move to my horse’s side and stroke her soft cheek. Dristan, Bran, and Irving rescued her and Pika while Galinor was facing Dimitri, and I’m so grateful to have them back.
Galinor gives me a leg up, and I wave a farewell to our party. They return the gesture, Marigold blinking back tears and calling a last goodbye. Knowing I can’t take anymore, I nudge Mara toward home.
I manage to hold my own tears back until we’re well out of Saltwreath, but inevitably, they come. Stoic by my side, Galinor says nothing.
We’ll be in Primewood in about six days, and then itwill be another two days to my home. How am I going to face my father? How will I look him in the eye after what I’ve done?
I glance at Galinor after most of the tears have ebbed. “What do I do?”
He meets my eyes and gives me a soft smile. “You apologize.”
I shake my head, tilting my head up to the brilliant sky. “It’s not enough.”
“Will you mean it when you say it?”
“Of course.”
He reaches between our horses and squeezes my hand. “Then it’s enough.”
My head is so filled with possible outcomes that we ride in silence until the sun is high in the sky. Galinor finally nudges his horse toward a shady spot so we may rest. At his insistence, I accept a roll, though I am not hungry. Danver sniffs it but then settles next to Pika.
“You came back for me,” I whisper, unable to meet Galinor’s eyes.
“I shouldn’t have left you.”
I tear tiny pieces of crust away from the bread. “Why did you?”
Galinor looks past me at the trees. “I couldn’t imagine you would rather stay in the company of your friend, the failure prince, when the man you said you loved was groveling for your return.”
“You are not a failure,” I argue.
Wanting to tell him how I feel about him, I open my mouth to start, but then I close it again. I don’t know howto begin. Besides, he just called himself my friend. Maybe that’s how he thinks of us.
Friends.
A soft, warm breeze blows through my hair, and I close my eyes. Triblue wouldn’t be a bad place to live. It’s warm and sunny, and I do like the ocean. Maybe, like Rosie, I should stay—fling away my title and heritage and become a washing girl or handmaid.
