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“There it is.” He smiled. “I knew it, I knew that you would circle back to this. Freedom, you want to be free.”
“You know who isn’t free? A queen.” I sighed. “Bound to the crown.”
I watched his shoulders rise and fall with a shrug. “But you have a ton of money and can pretty much do as you please. Not to mention an entire castle you can decorate however you’d like,” he continued, trying to point out the positives.
“What if that’s not good enough?”
“Or what if this is just cold feet?” One long arm extended in the space between us. Graceson’s callused fingers took my hand in his and he stroked over the scars on my skin softly. “Look, everyone gets scared that they aren’t making the right choices. Everyone. You won’t know if it’s the right or the wrong one until you do it. It’s your life. If you end up deciding you don’t want to be queen…leave.”
“Queens can’t just leave.” I watched his fingers travel up and down my hand.
His nose scrunched as he scoffed. “You’re the queen, you do as you please.”
I looked up to meet his gaze. The moon had come back out from its hiding place and a beam of light was streaking across his face, making his eyes the greenest I’d ever seen. Something new seized in my chest, the feeling that comes when you grow closer with someone, when you’ve truly gained a friend. Graceson must have felt it too as his smile shifted a touch, and he pulled his hand away with a cough.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“I’m never too far away.” He pursed his lips, turning at the sound of approaching footsteps. “Ha. Speak of Havala and he will appear.”
“What?” I jumped up from where I sat, my backpack falling with a thud against my heels.
Dace pushed through the brush, his outfit looking less than royal in its disheveled appearance. Dark circles sat under his eyes, so purple he nearly looked bruised. His cheeks were more sunken in than the last time I’d seen him as well.
“How many times did you have to manipulate your travel to find us?” Graceson asked, with a small bow.
“Ugh.” Dace waved his hand at the gesture before offering a handshake to Graceson. They shook firmly once. Dace turned to look back at me. I tried to ignore the way his eyes trailed from me to Graceson in a suspicious way.
Instantly I felt guilty, though I knew nothing had really happened here. Even if I had one brief moment of connection. That didn’t mean Graceson and I cared for each other in that way. I was just sad and wanted someone to comfort me. Maybe next time I’d go sit by Shavarra. At least her mothering would remind me of Hattie.
“I’m assuming you’re here for her and not me,” Graceson laughed.
“Exactly,” Dace said, with a lifted brow.
“Then I’ll go ahead and excuse myself.” Dirt had indeed collected on his wings I noticed as his back faced us. He ruffled them, shaking them out like a dirty rug. A small plume of dust trailed him with the movement.
I chewed my lip. “Should I be worried that you’ve drunk too much?” I asked, not wanting to know the real answer.
“No.”
Looking anywhere else but up to his gorgeous face, I tucked some hair behind my ear and glared down at his boots. A dot of red marred them and I wondered what it was.
“Have you come to tell me what to do again?”
“Also, no.” He took a step closer. His fingers, slightly chilly compared to the air around us, tipped my chin up to him. “I’m here because,” he swallowed and held his eyes closed for a moment before continuing, “because I want to tell you something. Everything, really. I want to tell you everything.”
He looked ragged, less like a prince and more like a beggar on the streets. His round lips parted, giving me the urge to crush mine to his and pretend like everything wasn’t so complicated.
“You should sit down.” He pointed at the flattened grass where I had been.
It was a silly thing, his statement. Not really a command, but not a question either. The stubborn, defiant part of me reared up and all I could do was shake my head.
He gave a tense smile at my reaction. The motion was still so attractive, even with the way his eyes sparkled as they filled with threatening tears. “Alright then.”
“Okay.” I shrugged.
“Okay, alright.” He rotated his shoulders like he was warming up for a fight. “Where do I start?” I lifted my chin. Butterflies, the not-so-good nervous kind, tickled my stomach and he continued with a nod. “Yes, okay.”
“Say it.”
