“In fairness, I should’ve known better,” I offered, trying to ease the sting of her pride. “Tallon brings younger horses when he rides out to the hounds.” I paused, then added, “I’m thankful you’re unharmed.”
She pressed her lips together as if she wanted to say more, yet held back. I remembered the chaos—the moment I’d pulled her to me, heart pounding in my chest. One wrong move from the horse, a single misstep, and she might not have survived. And that blood streaking her face?
My jaw clenched, rage simmering beneath the surface. Tallon never went to the temple seeking forgiveness. But for this, I would make him seek mine.
“Be free with your words,” I said with a rueful smirk. “I wager you’re sick of the masks and pretenses as well.”
“Yours or your son’s?”
I choked, sputtering on my cider. She slapped a hand over her mouth, as though she could shove the comment back in.
When I caught my breath, a bitter laugh escaped me, and I shook my head.
“You may see me masked, but I always speak the truth. Tallon, however…” The words tasted heavy, a weight settling on my chest. I failed him, letting his mother mold him while I fought a war, neglecting him. He’d become a stranger, a man I no longer trusted—and she was bound to marry him.
“I see past his mask.” Her voice softened, her gaze meeting mine.
The look in her eyes unsettled me. That resignation. The acceptance that she was just another pawn in the game, a piece to be bartered. I knew she was—as was I. We all were. For the sake of our kingdoms, we gave up pieces of ourselves, sometimes in the form of who we married. But the quiet spark beyond her resignation stirred anger within.
“He’s still growing, still maturing.” I turned to the distant fields, patchworks of green and burnished gold stretching toward the horizon, roads and paths weaving between them like scars on the land.
She sighed. “He’snineteen.”
A quiet pause settled between us. She shifted her weight, her gaze tracing the edge of the wall as if searching for words, yet none came right away. Her shoulders eased, though a faint tension lingered in the set of her jaw.
“I had nothing to do with the announcement at our ball,” she murmured at last.
I squinted into the distance, already aware—Tallon orchestrated that. But she wanted me to know, wanted to make it clear she held no designs on the throne.
Unlike my son.
“Tallon’s eager to be rid of me,” I said, my tone flat. She remained silent, offering no denial. “But I suspect these old bones will keep me here a few years yet.”
“You don’t look a day over thirty.”
I chuckled, then tossed back the last of my cider. Let her keep that lie. Perhaps it was my ego—I’d probably need to repent for indulging.
Gods, it was refreshing to have someone to be open with.
“Do you come here often?” she asked.
I straightened, casting one final, lingering gaze over my lands—lands I had fought for, shed too much blood for. “When court gets to be too much.”
She turned that mischievous smile on me. “And that’s fairly often?”
I scoffed, a half-grin forming. “Yes, I’d say more nights find me here than not.”
“I apologize for storming into your space. I won’t–”
“The palace is yours, Princess,” I cut in. “You may go where you will, when you will. If you’d like to join me, or claim the roof as your own, please do.” I dipped into a bow, one worthy of a princess… and perhaps a little deeper.
“Nienna—”
I straightened, cocking an eyebrow in question as she turned fully, facing me. She leaned against the wall, and the sun blinked out behind her, casting the space in ruddy shadows.
“—My name is Nienna.” A sly smile curved one corner of her mouth.
“Goodnight, Nienna.”
