Page 68 of The Court of Venus

Hal stormed from the room shortly after, grinding his teeth. He accepted his cap and ducked back into the rain—it pounded down hard and fast, so he quickly blended into the night.

We raced through the forest, and he could not catch me, for I was a doe and then I was falcon, horse, fox, horse again, and whenever he leapt over a fallen tree or skidded around a corner, I overtook him.

“Damn it,” he said, pulling back on his stallion. It was Roland’s horse, Jester. Hal had promised to look after him.

Both were sweating from the ordeal, and he took a moment to wipe his brow with the sleeve of his doublet. Then he noticed where we were. He spun around several times to admire it: a wild, fleecy meadow, radiant with dappled sunlight. Cicadas humming, dragonflies flitting around our heads.

He jumped off Jester’s back, dropped the gown and slippers we’d packed in his saddlebag by my hooves. He hid his face against the stallion’s flank while I transformed from horse to woman behind a tree.

“Will you help me pin this?” I asked. It was more layers than I usually wore when I rode out with Hal—Prospero was presenting me to an ambassador at suppertime.

I’d already struggled into my shift, but the kirtle and gown and detached sleeves hung around my waist. Hal was no lady-in-waiting, and he’d had grooms to dress him his entire life, so he had no idea what to do. He collected my hair and draped it over my shoulder, then spent several fumbling minutes with my laces and pins before he groaned and said he gave up. I decided it was warm enough, and we were deep enough in the forest, that I might as well just wear my shift. It was white linen, thick enough to cover me. I let the rest of my gown fall to my ankles and stepped out of the fabric. He gripped my shoulder, spun me around.

When his gaze caught on the outline of my breasts, we both flushed. Hal and I had seen each other half-naked when we’d waded into algae-rich ponds as children, but that was many years ago.

I tumbled into the long grass, flinging my hands above my head, and he fell beside me. We turned on our sides and blinked at each other through the gaps between the blades. I eyed his new stubble. The sun coaxing out the red in it.

His mouth twitched. “What?”

I reached forward. Almost touched him, then held myself back. “You need a shave.”

He swatted me away. “I do not.” When he rolled onto his back and stared up at the canopy, I took in his profile—his supple mouth, his strong nose. His golden-brown hair was longer than it had been in winter; now, it fell over his cheeks as Roland’s did. He could feel my eyes and snorted, but didn’t turn. “I’m going to Lionesse,” he said. “In a fortnight.”

“Oh.” I twisted onto my back, too, folding my arms over my chest.

He stole a glance at me. “Did you already know?”

“I knew it was only a matter of time. You were restless here.”

He laughed to himself. “All I’ve ever wanted is the opportunity to die like anyone else, I suppose.”

“Don’t say that.” I tied a blade of grass into a knot. “You won’t die.”

“Of course I won’t. Father will have me stay far away from the field. Perhaps,” he added bitterly, “I’ll get to ride my horse to the top of a hill and watch better men fight in my stead. Those soldiers are poor, ripped from their homes, or they know the only way to feed their families is to go to war. Why am I worth more than they are?”

I pictured him with a blade. How he whipped it from one hand to another, sometimes twisting it behind his back before he struck. I’d always wondered how someone as good as he was could be so well-honed for killing.

I was on my side again, I hadn’t noticed he already was too. He had a lock of my hair and was twirling it between his fingers. And he felt, he felt—

If I had been standing, I would have staggered back.

“Do you truly wish to fight?” I asked him.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s no hatred in you, Hal. No anger like I’ve sensed in other men. This is about your father and his grip on you. It’s about defiance.”

“Yes, and I’ll keep defying him because someone must. Because no one else ever dares to. Mother just watches him with Alice.” He waved a hand in front of his face. “Like this. Vacant. I can only guess at what she’s truly feeling.”

“She’s exhausted. Resentful, yes, but I think she’s grown tired of waiting for him to lose interest in Alice. Her hope used to rise and fall in her. It doesn’t anymore.”

His expression turned thoughtful. “Can you sense emotions from a great distance?”

“Not that far.”

“I’d wondered if I could…” He smiled to himself. “Send you things I remembered, or things I felt, all the way from Lionesse.”

“We’d have to be much closer for that.”