Page 38 of A Cake of Cherries and Charm

“That’s rather fascinating,” he said thoughtfully.

She looked at him. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Oh, it’s only that every woman I’ve ever met–though I’ll admit that my pond of female acquaintances is rather shallow… Well, most of them wish to be covered in diamonds and cosseted and praised to high heavens.”

“Without meaning to sound severe,” Rosie said carefully as she dropped more cherries into the basket that he was now holding. “I would say that your shallow pond of women is full of those who have never known want.”

He nodded. “Very true. Of course, my cousin is a bit like you, I think. Natalie has always been happiest when she’s busy. It’s one of the reasons she escaped the court the moment she could.” Then he studied her again with those piercing eyes. “Was your desire to care for others born of want, then?”

Rosie spoke slowly this time. “Not entirely. I’ve always liked helping my parents. But ever since my father died, I’ve tried to fill his shoes as much as I could. My mother was never strong, and after he died, she became even more frail than she had been before. Snow is all that is good and gentle, but she was always afraid of making the wrong decisions, or being too stern, or telling others that they couldn’t have what they asked of her.” She shook her head. “I imagine I’ve always wanted someone dependable because… Well, because it would be nice to rest for once and let someone else take the lead for a change.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Surely Jonathan didn’t want to hear her deepest hopes and desires. He was busy helping his father run the palace, not to mention the kingdom. Surely thousands of other citizens were in greater need than she. Here she was, surrounded by luxury, and she was complaining to him about things he couldn’t fix. Not that she would wish him to try.

When she dared to glance back up at him, however, he was frowning at the trees, appearing lost in thought. They walked quietly that way for several minutes, the only sounds the gentle rustle of the breeze against the leaves and their footsteps brushing the tall grass beneath.

“I… I’m going to be leaving the palace after the wedding,” Rosie finally blurted. “I’ll return to my village, where I’ll live with friends.”

The prince turned quickly and blinked at her, his eyes widening. “Why?” he asked.

Rosie drew in a deep breath through her nose. “Snow is beginning a new life here. And it would be better for her and my mother if… if she wasn’t always trying to protect me.”

He gaped at her. “Protect you? Protect you from what?”

Rosie hesitated. What she needed to say was delicate. It could very well be dangerous if the wrong ears overheard. She glanced around. They truly seemed to be alone.

But then she immediately wished she hadn’t said anything. Who was she to think the prince needed to know of her escape? He would find out anyway. And she wasn’t even one of his parents’ choices for his bride. This would have to be their last walk spent together. The choice of who his future wife, Rosie knew, would be made soon.

“Oh no,” he said with a frown as she turned away from him. He put the basket down, took her shoulders in his large hands, and turned her to look at him. “You can’t say something like that and then let it hang in the air. Rose, what is it that you need protecting from? Is it the troll? Or the court?”

Rosie nearly sighed when he said her name that way. So simple. So lovely. Like she truly was a fine lady, and… and that he cared for her. Like the caress of a feather. A soft kiss through the air. Not Rose Red. Not Lady Rose. Not even Rosie.

Just Rose.

But he was still staring at her, waiting for her explanation, and Rosie’s throat suddenly felt thick, and swallowing was painful. “Jonathan,” she said softly, forcing words out anyway “You’re the crown prince. You don’t need–”

“Tell me,” he urged her–pleaded with her, his fingers tightening on her shoulders. “I want to know. Please!”

Rosie closed her eyes and licked her suddenly-dry lips. “I’m aware that your parents are likely to announce your betrothal soon.”

When she opened her eyes again, they stung, and the world was slightly watery. “I’m not a dunce, Jonathan. Everyone knows your parents–your mother especially–favor Miss Marianne.”

At the other lady’s name, his blue eyes hardened, but Rosie went on.

“If… If Miss Marianne is chosen, and I remain at the palace, there will be war. Not a literal one, of course, with soldiers and weapons and all that. But one that hurts people, nonetheless.”

Jonathan gritted his teeth. “I would never let her–”

“She tried to kill me yesterday, Jonathan,” Rosie whispered, giving him a sad smile. “She offered my life to the troll.”

He stared at her for another eternal moment before he let go of her and picked up the basket. Then he stared at it as though unsure what to do with the thing. His jaw trembled slightly, and he blinked rapidly several times.

“I refuse to become the subject and cause of a royal family rift,” Rosie continued. “People would choose sides. No good would come of it.”

The prince said nothing. She could see him trying desperately to find something–anything to say. And it warmed and broke her heart at the same time.

“It’s true,” she whispered. And though she knew it was improper–for no one should assume the liberty to touch a royal–she couldn’t help herself. He just looked so… so sad.

Slowly, gently, she reached out and put her hand on his lower arm, where he had rolled up the lower sleeve. His muscles were hard beneath her touch, and his skin felt far too warm. “You know it’s true,” she said softly before letting go.