Page 106 of Yearning Difficulties

‘It was always her,’ Killian finally replied. ‘I’ve only ever been able to see her.’

Marcia suddenly called everyone to places and I was grateful. I couldn’t move. I could barely think. Only when I knew they’d moved on did I slip out of my hiding place. I made my way to my first position.

Nervous about what I planned to do.

When Killian and Anderson walked out with their two horses, the arena burst into spontaneous applause. I smiled and clapped along. I caught sight of Dad in the stands. He looked exhausted and thoroughly ready to be finished with the faire. He caught my eye and gave me a relieved smile.

‘Noble ladies and gentlemen,’ Anderson cried out, his voice booming and wonderfully camp, ‘this knave has tried to steal my noble maiden fair from under me. Shall he be punished?’

Everyone roared in approval and the two knights mounted up. Killian guided Cyrano to the front, facing the crowd.

‘Might I speak? Before this man aims his lance at my black heart?’

People cheered once again.

To my astonishment, he looked to me.

‘I love you, madam,’ he said unapologetically. ‘You won’t wear my favour. You once told me, the Black Knight always loses. But I bid you take this. As a token of my blackened, broken heart that beats only for you.’

He tossed me a clear, far-too-modern plastic bag. I caught it with both hands and looked down.

Cookies. Cut into the shape of a key.

He’d baked me the key to his heart. Just like my parents. Just like the story I’d told him.

Eighteen years had become a pile of autumn leaves in my heart. Gathered neatly, one on top of the other.

He’d crashed into them, sending them flying into the air and scattering against the breeze.

And I loved him for it.

I felt a tear slip free as I glanced up at him. ‘Open your saddlebag.’

He frowned in surprise. ‘Sorry, my lady?’

‘Open your saddlebag, you stupid fool.’

He heard both the laughter and the reprimand in my voice and so he obeyed. He reached down and fished around in Cyrano’s saddlebag. When he drew out the small drawstring bag I’d stuffed inside, someone in the crowd shouted, ‘Open it!’

He did. To reveal the key cookies I’d baked for him myself. As he realized what they were and laughed at the sight of them – a beautiful, light-hearted, almost disbelieving sound – I could’ve wept. When his eyes held mine, they were full of everything I was feeling, too.

‘Apologies, Sir Knight,’ he called to Anderson, never looking away from me. ‘I won’t let you win this. I won’t give her up. Not for anything.’

Anderson grinned, and I laughed and cried all at once as Killian rode Cyrano up alongside me. I climbed onto the horse’s back and wrapped my arms around Killian’s middle, pressing my lips to the back of his neck.

‘You should know, Red. I’m stealing you with no intention of letting you go.’

I pressed my cheek to his back and laughed. ‘Fine by me.’

We rode out of the arena, both laughing at the crescendo of applause that followed us. Cyrano galloped, happy to be free of the joust and when he crashed through the doors that led into town, I realized that for the first time in the longest time, I felt incontestably unmasked and embarrassingly happy.

Killian handed Cyrano’s reins to Logan, who was waiting for us at the Lake Pristine bandstand.

‘Goodbye, Cyrano,’ Killian said, stroking the horse’s nose. ‘Time we parted. Thank you for a good night.’

Logan started to walk the proud horse away but he stopped suddenly. Then turned to address us both.

‘Could you tell Cherry I’m sorry?’