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They stopped at the stream on the far side of their family estate, Waisley. Her horse should have been a meager pony, but her father never would have allowed her such a small beast. He’d wanted her on stallions by the time she could toddle around.
He’d looked far away and said the words that never left her all these years, “You will survive this, Felicity.”
He’d known even then what he was going to do. She’d thought he meant that she’d survive the beast and March coming to the estate and all the many petty problems a young girl could have. But when she woke the next day, she was not in her bed with the white drapes cresting the posts, the cushions so soft that she always felt like it must be the same as sleeping on a cloud. She was in the mountain. And everything had changed.
Now, she was to return.
It took a matter of minutes to pack her bag but an hour to traipse through the Artisan Village and find Parris’ dress shop.
“I can’t help you,” he said, crossing his arms. He was a slight thing, not more than a spattering of inches taller than Kerrigan and all skin and bones. Not even getting out of the House of Dragons had changed that. His Fae ears were delicate and on display. His long blond hair tucked behind them in a ponytail at the nape of his neck.
“Parris, come on,” she said. “Imagine me at the Geivhrea party in your gown. I’ll be before the king and queen.”
“I have a dozen other gowns to finish before then,” he grumbled.
“Will all of those people need to make an impression on the king?”
He tried to shoo her out of the place, but she’d spent months training and always been stronger than him anyway.
“You’ve ruined too many of my gowns,” he complained.
“It’s not my fault.”
“You don’t even pay me!”
She laughed. “I’m free advertisement.”
“That doesn’t pay the bills, Society mistress,” he joked, poking her in the ribs.
“Parris…”
He huffed. “I’ll need all new measurements.” He gestured to her arms, chest, and back. “Everything has gotten bigger. Must you keep training with that useless sword?”
“Afraid so.”
He tweaked a dress to her measurements on the spot. He’d already been working on a new design for the Season with her in mind. And he’d been right; it would do the trick.
With the dress safely tucked into her traveling bag, she went to the aerie at high noon to find Tieran waiting for her. He hadn’t been talking to her this last month. It had been agonizing.
Now, he turned his head to glare at her. Are you through trying to ruin all of our plans?
“Completely.”
I don’t believe you.
“Don’t blame you,” she said with a laugh as she attached the bag to his saddle. “But the king and queen called us to court. So, to court we go. Plus, we’re going to need to train the entire time we’re there if we’re to catch up to the others.”
“I’ll teach you,” Fordham said, striding away from Netta.
She flushed. Her mind returning to that greenhouse. They hadn’t discussed it. What was there to discuss really? They couldn’t deny their attraction to one another. They kept ending up tangled in each other’s arms, like idiots. And if she wasn’t comfortable with that being all it was, then she was going to have to cut him off entirely. Because she couldn’t keep doing this if her heart wouldn’t shut up.
“I appreciate it, but … I’m going to see if Audria will work with me,” she said carefully.
Fordham is better, Tieran grumbled in her head.
She glared at the traitorous dragon.
“Audria is going to be knee deep in Bryonican gentlemen,” Fordham said.
“Maybe I will as well,” she challenged.
He frowned. “Just one, I’d wager.”
Kerrigan winced. She’d walked right into that one. March was another issue entirely.
“Just let me help,” he commanded in that general’s voice she hadn’t heard in so long.
Her spine straightened at the words. “I don’t think we should be spending time together. And even if we should, don’t use that voice with me.”
“Rightfully, I am your crowned prince,” he said, pulling a trump card.
She stepped up to him, meeting his challenge. “Respectfully, I’m not a member of your court. Your father made damn sure of that.”
His eyes darted around the room. “Don’t let anyone hear you saying that. Lorian just needs an excuse.”
She deflated. “I know.”
“Just let me help, gods. Why is it always an argument?”
Yeah, Kerrigan, why is it always an argument? Tieran asked.
“Enough out of both of you,” she muttered and then climbed onto Tieran’s back. Fordham arched an eyebrow, and she reluctantly nodded. “Fine. You can train me.”
He smiled, slow and dangerous. Gods, help me. She remembered exactly what his military training had been like. She was up for some sleepless nights and exhaustion. But what was the difference at this point?
