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I’m unsure precisely what I expected, sharing my role in a story that altered the future of our kingdom. But when Reyne pushes back her chair and makes to leave, I do not blame her.

15

Reyne

I have been unsure for so long.

Of my purpose. Of how I would live without Fara. Of coming here, to this tourney. And now of Erik and how I should proceed with him.

But as he speaks of his part in the Hilla affair, I am finally sure of something.

Erik is in great pain, and my need to comfort him is stronger than any other consideration. It is a silly fancy, of course. This warrior does not need my pity—he is the queen’s commander, a powerful and respected man—and yet, I can see the pain in his eyes.

He stands, and I realize he thinks I mean to leave.

I lay my hand on his arm, stopping him.

“I will give you nine days.” I pause, then add, “You are not to blame for what happened, Erik.”

He defies my words with a look that says otherwise.

“I should never have gone to Malcom.”

“I should never have asked my sister if she wanted to dip her feet in the water with me.”

My hand drops. Only my brother and parents know the details of my own painful story.

“We’d done so before, but that day . . . the river raged. ’Twas so hot, and so I made the suggestion that saw my sister killed. I am the reason she is gone.” The familiar swell of tears threatens, but I push it away. “She leaned forward for the briefest of moments, and that was all it took. She fell in. When I saw her in the water . . .”

It is as if I’m sitting on that riverbank even now. I can smell the dirt and grass behind me, feel the breeze off the water. See Fara as she is swept away.

I close my eyes, trying to make the vision stop. When Erik’s arms wrap around me, I cling to him as I did my brother when he pulled me from that very water.

“I jumped in and nearly drowned,” I say against his shoulder. “So many times I’ve wished I had.”

Oddly, I do not cry, as if I have no tears left inside me. Even so, being engulfed in Erik’s arms offers a measure of comfort I never knew I needed.

“If I told you again ’twas not your fault your sister was killed, would you believe me?” he says, moving my hair to one side.

“Nay,” I whisper.

“Is there anything I can say that would comfort you?”

I think on that for a moment. “Nay, I do not believe there is.”

He pulls back, but I remain in his arms. “Then I will not try.”

And without warning, his head lowers toward mine. Erik’s lips touch my own, so gently at first I can hardly feel it. Though it is pleasant.

He pulls away and looks at me.

I blink.

“That was quite nice.” Still, I’m disappointed it wasn’t more like the kisses I’ve read about in books. My world hasn’t shaken, nor do my knees feel weak.

“Nice. Have you not been kissed before, Reyne?”

I raise my chin. “Aye, I have.”