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“Oh no,” I say, eyes wide as I imagine the scene. “What happened?”
“They painted over it and never spoke of it again.” A chuckle shakes his shoulders. “I don’t think she’s had a portrait done since.”
I giggle along with him, and we fall back into silence. It isn’t the harsh silence from before, where an invisible storm seemed to brew between us, but there’s no denying the awkwardness. Forcing a marriage, let alone a friendship, with your enemy isn’t easy, especially when you’ve only had a few brief conversations. We have nothing to go on, no common ground to stand on, nothing but our titles and our own greedy desires to cling to and build off.
I’m at least thankful for the slight distraction our brief words have provided, because I no longer feel like I’m going to shake apart from nerves. My anxiety has quieted to a tolerable level, and for a moment, everything feels like it’ll be all right.
We arrive to a door made entirely of blue glass panes, and Nor reaches for the intricate silver knob. As he twists it and pushes the door open, I can’t help but shake my head. Intricate details extend to every nook and cranny here, even doorknobs. Of all the times I imagined Ulleh, I never imagined a place so opulent.
Crude and dingy, maybe, but nothing so magnificent.
We step outside, the high ornate ceiling overhead replaced by a jet black sky flecked with an array of stars, and my eyes sweep across the open space. We’re in a small garden in the middle of the castle, all four sides of the space surrounded by the dark castle walls. It’s a false sense of freedom, because even though we’re standing in finely cut grass surrounded by trees and colorful flower bushes, we’re still trapped within the castle walls.
I take a deep breath, the clash of florals assaulting my senses and bringing to mind thoughts of herbs and potions. It’s dark, so I can’t tell exactly what kinds of plants are held here, but I’m sure there are some Lizette can use in a concoction. If nothing else, she can try and substitute things with other plants in Ulleh.
“This is beautiful,” I say softly, taking another deep breath and letting the floral aroma wash over me. The scent, coupled with the cool night air, has the stress flowing out of my body, getting lost somewhere among the plants. It’s soothing, and I’d be content to spend the night here under the stars, if I didn’t have duties hanging over my head.
“My grandmother had this garden made,” he explains. “She spent a lot of time abroad, in other kingdoms, and she always swore there was nothing more beautiful than nature. A free spirit. In fact, you remind me of her a little.”
I snort a laugh and step away, closer to one of the bushes covered in burgundy blooms.
“First you hate me, now I remind you of your grandmother,” I say, running my fingers delicately along one of the flower’s creamy petals. “How romantic.”
I can almost sense him roll his eyes without looking.
“I wasn’t trying to be,” he says with a huff. “I should have said free spiritedandstubborn. She didn’t like being told what to do. So, when my grandfather told her she couldn’t build a garden, she waited until he died and she did it anyway.”
He’s not wrong. That does sound like something I would do.
Another laugh forces its way past my lips, and I silently scold myself. Getting along and making small talk wasn’t part of the agreement, so why is he trying? Is he really that good of an actor, committing to his role? Or does he genuinely want me to know these things, even though I’ll be headed home when he finally gets the crown?
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, finally giving in to curiosity. “Aren’t you worried about your enemy knowing your secrets?”
“Secrets,” he scoffs. “As if you could use Skoll the Great and my grandmother’s flowers to make a difference. I’m distracting you to slow your racing pulse before you have some sort of cardiac episode.”
I perch my hands on my hips and wheel on him. “Who says my pulse is racing?”
“Me.” He meets my gaze with a challenging stare. “I can hear it. There’s no point in denying it, Princess.”
Speaking of cardiac episode, my heart skips a painful beat in my chest. “You canhearit?”
He nods and makes his way further into the garden. In the middle of the space, there’s a circular slab of stone where a lone bench sits. A tree stands on either side, their branches forming a canopy above the sitting spot. On the brightest day, they would provide the perfect shade.
“I’m sure everyone at the ball could hear it,” he says nonchalantly before plopping himself down on the bench and draping his arm across the back. Even though he’s sitting, we’re about the same height now.
I stop a foot in front of him and let my eyes cascade down his body, starting at the tips of his horns and ending at the black boots on his feet before climbing up him again. Now that the adrenaline rush of the wedding has worn off and there aren’t a million things happening all at once, I’m able to finally drink him in.
The way he’s slumped casually on the seat, he hardly looks like royalty. Just a minotaur, minding his business in a garden, no haughty expression or backhanded comment thrown my way to sully his image.
He looks approachable.
Handsome, even.
My heart starts a bit, and I wonder self-consciously if he noted the difference.
“Your feet must be killing you,” he says, glancing to the space beside him on the bench.
I purse my lips, and consider the offer, but I can’t let it pass without taking another jab at him.
