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I know, too, how much you hate talking of such things, so I will move on now.
Things here remain unchanged, as they always do. Although with Aika out so often lately, and you not here, it feels markedly bleaker than before.
Your absence is felt keenly, by none so much as Mother, I think. Indeed, she grows more anxious by the day. I hope that we will see you soon. I hope that you can feel my love even halfway across the world, and I hope that you do not allow yourself to become as frozen as the vast tundra around you.
Sincerely,
Melodi
I squeeze my eyes shut against the truth of her words. It's always been like this, though, my worrying for Mel's safety and her worrying for my heart.
If Aika worries about anything, she keeps it well hidden.
I turn my attention back to the king only to find his expression has gone hard and he is rising from his chair.
"I apologize. I hadn't meant to ignore you --" I begin.
"Not at all," but the words sound oddly monotone. "I have a few things to attend to before we can head to the festival. I will meet you just past midday." With that, he sweeps out of the room.
I might have believed him, was I not so adept at discerning another person's lie. I glance at the table where his mug of tea is still steaming and his sugary breakfast remains uneaten.
Even Khijhana stares after him suspiciously. I force myself to finish my own breakfast as though nothing had happened. After all, if I let every one of the king’s ever-changing moods affect my own, I would likely never feel sane again.
Chapter Twenty-Six
By the time I meet the king in front of the castle, all traces of whatever mood had overtaken him earlier have disappeared. Once again, I note how much more carefree he looks out here than within the confines of the castle walls. His posture is more relaxed, his expression less guarded.
I take a step toward the sled, intending to stand where I had yesterday, when he holds out a hand out to stop me.
"I apologize for not thinking of it sooner, but I wanted to make sure you have this today." His tone is still casual, but his expression has closed off ever so slightly, enough that I can't tell exactly what he is thinking when he holds out his other hand.
In it, he holds a sizable coin purse. It is made of white, supple leather and tied together with a black velvet string in a decidedly feminine design.
I hesitate before taking it from him. I have been showered with valuable gifts before, but I can't recall ever being handed over the freedom of coin, something I can spend as I see fit.
"I noticed you eyeing a couple of the booths yesterday. I assumed it went without saying that the castle's coffers are yours for use, but I thought this might be an easier way for you to get whatever you desired." He is babbling, I realize with no small amount of amusement.
"Thank you," I interrupt him to put his mind at ease, taking the weighty purse.
Though, truthfully, the words feel inadequate to express what I am feeling. While money may mean nothing to him, he has given me more than something valuable. He has given me choices, something I have never had before.
My dresses have always been ordered for me, most of my accessories gifted. But never chosen byme. I am reminded of my feelings yesterday while shopping. Had my guard been paying that close of attention to me? Had he noticed the way I resented him paying for everything? Or was this truly an oversight on the part of the king?
I doubt he realizes what this means, since it is unheard of for a lady to care about these trivial sorts of things, but I appreciate the gesture, nonetheless.
I press the purse against my chest, my nimble fingers tying the strings around my left hand with my right, and it isn't until I notice him watching that I remember that isn't something most people can do.
More knowledge that was forced on me, tying and untying knots with one hand.
Blasted sands...
This isn't the first time he's caught me off my guard, and I realize I am slipping too often lately. I force a laugh.
"Well, you try to wrestle yourself into some of those dresses without help."
Whether he buys my excuse or not, the smoldering look in his eyes tells me that perhaps he's thinking more about wrestling someone out of clothes instead of in them.
I should look away, but I don't. I hold his gaze with each step nearer until I'm standing directly in front of him, and only then do I finally spin around, grasping the bars in front of me.
