Page 62

Thicket pressed her palms against the table in an attempt to still them. “I know I don’t have my memories. But that doesn’t change how I feel about this kingdom or its people.” She swallowed, her gaze growing heavy. “When Lavender cursed me, she didn’t just condemn me to an eternity of sleep. She created an alternate world designed to torment me. She punished me for the very reason you decided to follow me and made it so that I was completely isolated and alone.”

The press of their eyes threatened to eat her stomach alive. But she forced her gaze to rise and look at each and every one of them. “I am not claiming to know what is best for Vindrya. It’s my turn to repay that debt. Even if you can’t trust me, trust that I will do everything in my power to save this kingdom and bring the light back into our lives. So let me do this. Let me bring Alouette back and secure this alliance. Maybe Lavender is right. Maybe I am not enough. But with Dymree’s help and yours, we can finally put an end to this cycle of torment.”

Silence descended.

“We have no way of knowing whether King Artus will still send his support,” General Cales said.

“Then ask him,” Thicket said. “Tell him I will free Alouette in exchange for his army. If I time it right, I should be back with the princess before Dymree’s army arrives.”

The Council exchanged glances. She could tell they didn’t like the idea, but she willed them to see her not as a timid, lost girl, but someone worthy of making decisions for herself.

Someone worthy of ruling.

“We will do as you request, Your Highness,” Duke Devereaux said finally. “We will send word to Dymree. However, if he does not accept…”

“Then I will drop the idea of saving Alouette and focus my attention on freeing Minloc,” Thicket said. “Do we have a deal?”

Chapter Twenty-Three

To Thicket’s relief, the Council agreed. They wasted no time sending a message to the King of Dymree. All that was left now was to wait.

Bern wanted to get in as much sightseeing as she could so she looped her arms through Thicket’s and Elian’s and dragged them off to explore, Marcellus begrudgingly following. She ranted to them nonstop about the beautiful ocean view from the ports and how one section of the beach was known to be a hotspot for broken shards of glass that washed upon the shore from merchant ships.

With her stomach a jumbled mass of nerves, Thicket found it hard to keep up with her friend’s excitement. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing Marcellus glowering at a nearby building, as though it had personally offended him.

Biting her lip, she hung back, falling into step beside him.

Marcellus shot her a disgruntled look. “What are you doing back here?”

Thicket tucked her hands behind her back, pulling nervously at her fingers before her grip slipped and her arms landed at her sides. “I wanted to thank you.”

A huff darted past his lips, borderline sardonic, as though the very idea were laughable. “I didn’t do anything deserving of gratitude.”

Thicket’s chest twinged at the words. She wasn’t sure if he actually thought that, or if it was just his way of trying to isolate himself. Either way, she refused to let him this time.

Crossing her arms, she stepped into his path, forcing him to stop to avoid running her over. “Why won’t you ever just let me thank you?”

Marcellus exhaled. “It’s my job, Princess.”

He said that a lot. But lately his job hadn’t just included protecting her life. He had brought her to the farmhouse, despite the memories it carried, to give her a space to work through her thoughts. He had taught her how to use a sword and did his best not just to prepare her for her fight with Lavender, but make her feel more capable. He had risked the Council’s anger to stand up for her when no one else could.

He was her guard, but he had done so much more than his job description and while he had put up clear walls around them, he was always there for her. In his own infuriating way, but he was still there regardless.

After spending her life chasing after others’ approval, wishing she could just be enough to make them stay, that meant everything.

“So?”

“So,” he drawled, “you don’t thank people for doing their job.”

“I do,” Thicket argued.

“Then you are one of few.”

“Why shouldn’t I? It’s the polite thing to do. And you know what, I think we should normalize it. In fact, I think we should thank everyone and everything because life is short and there is no shortage of things to be grateful for.”

Marcellus’ lip twitched, as though barely restraining a smile. “Everything?”

“Yes.” She whipped her head around. Spotting one of the canoes tied to the side of the street, she ran over and flung a hand out. “Like this!”