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“Forgive me, milady. My mind was elsewhere.”
Her other hand rested on his upper arm, hot and pressing. Her skirts swirled around her and brushed past his legs as she moved closer. “I hope not of another woman! Why, I had grand plans of wooing you this month.”
Killian blinked, his mind returning to the forest and the woman who occupied his thoughts. He answered, caging, “Myth and history, rather.”
“Oh good. The wooing can commence.” She winked at him, then laughed. “Oh, Prince Killian, don’t look so stoic about the affair. You once confided in me, you recall.”
He glanced around to be sure he had no audience and, once confident they were alone, replied, “I do recall this event, yes. I told you how thick-skulled the workers and the managers of the dock were being, and it ended with a verbal lashing from my father for being thick-skulled myself. He’s convinced the dispute was only solved because of your help.”
“Nonsense! The solution was all yours. I did nothing but lend a kind ear. Now I feel you pulling away from me. You play a game of chase, which is fine with me—I love to win.” She batted her kohl-lined eyes with a brilliant smile when Killian gave no response.
Her voice dropped to a quiet murmur as they arrived in the room. “Perhaps, I have caught you already. Who needs a dusty betrothal?” Her grin sharpened. “Your father should not trap you so. Are you his prisoner?”
Killian’s heart twisted in his chest, her words so closely mirroring his own thoughts, but he had no chance to respond as they entered the rose garden parlor.
“Ah, here they are,” Lady Zalina’s mother exclaimed as she reached for a delicate cup. “The tea has just arrived. We are having the most wonderful weather.”
The group fell into quiet, banal conversation, and Killian’s mind drifted. His morning research had only rehashed things that he had learned as a child: The gate had been constructed one hundred years ago, separating the Forbidden Forest from the rest of Norwood. The histories mentioned the war and the curse of the dark forest but gave very few details.
The most interesting book had been an illustrated book of children’s tales. Its tales of the last war included pictures of fairies riding giant beasts and fighting hordes of goblins. Of course, that couldn’t possibly be true. Goblins? Men were already monstrous enough, so why fabricate shadow creatures? Jax, of course was a giant, sentient beast, but he was a fixture of Norwood, a variant of the local wolf species with a bit more magic than was normal. His fingers drummed as he recalled the elk and bear. Wasn’t the neighboring kingdom’s crest a bear? Although, he hadn’t heard those creatures speak, so maybe the forest just supersized them.
He pulled up a map in his mind. In the south, on the other side of the forest rose the impassible mountain range—the Spires, as cursed as the forest it bordered. The western border had to go through Walworth already, while the east rose to the cliffs nearer Tallen. The north had fair-weather ports, but in winter they all iced up, and the boats were unusable. All travel from Norwood had to detour around this cursed forest and distant mountain range.
Hence, the hopeful trade agreement with Walworth which would give them access to the far western coast with their maritime resources and their wealthy neighbor L’Hovat.
Hence, his betrothal to a woman who had disappeared as a baby, the agreement as heavy and binding as any crown.
Lord Ryker stood to take his leave, ripping Killian from his thoughts. He turned to find Lady Zalina staring at him with a furrowed brow, but as soon as he made eye contact, her expression cleared, and her usual warmth radiated from her face. She pushed her black hair behind her shoulder.
“Shall we take a walk in the garden?” Killian asked Lady Zalina as the king escorted Lord Ryker to his carriage.
Lady Ryker nodded. “Oh do, dear ones. I have a book to finish, so you two should run along. The roses are in their last blooms of the season. Just magnificent. Mind the thorns, though. I swear they shifted to catch my gown on purpose this morning!” The woman laughed delicately, in her practiced way.
Killian smiled and offered his arm to Zalina, glad for a reason to move from his swirling thoughts. They entered the rose garden which had erupted in blooms of a hundred variants of all sizes, stem lengths, and colors, spilling around curving pathways and over the many arches. The smell was intoxicating. Maybe Killian should have brought Raela roses instead.
“They really are lovely,” Zalina murmured. “In Rosho, it is too cold to grow rose bushes. Even the pines grow slowly there.”
“It always surprises me that this distance would change the growing patterns so much. It’s only a week’s travel between us.”
“But the coastline is whipped cold by the winds, you forget. The ocean beats us so hard, the sky is always foggy, and the temperatures are never right for growing much more than potatoes.”
“Fair enough,” Killian amended. “I have but visited a few times, and on the last trip, I admit I paid little attention to flowers during my stay.”
She giggled, her cheeks flushing as she pushed her black locks from her brow. “No, on your last trip, you were paying all your attention to me.”
She was almost right. During his visit, he had spent an inordinate amount of time with her. She was pretty, new to courtly life, and utterly enraptured with him. When he wasn’t solving the dock workers' disagreement, he had enjoyed their moments together. He had never wavered in his commitment to his betrothal, as odious as it was to him, but Zalina was a friend who seemed to like him for more than his crown. He had once admired her blue eyes, black hair, and pale complexion. Today, the sun seemed to bleach out her features. White-blonde hair flickered through his mind instead.
“Killian,” she stopped him with a hand to his chest. Cool and slender. “I’m serious about the betrothal. It’s unfair to you … to all of us. Your father is a tyrant to bind a child to a baby. Consider the future. Consider me, Killian.” Her eyes locked on his.
He started to shake his head and respond when her face lit up with a brilliant smile. She turned away from him with a gasp. “Look! It’s a bunny, Killian. Look, a baby!” Zalina turned from him completely.
Killian stood at a loss for a moment, so thoroughly had she upended the conversation. He stepped beside her and watched the little bunny hop away under the thorns of the bush. Though it must have been the wind, he could have sworn he saw the branches shift to cover up the bunny’s escape with a gust of purple.
He frowned. The magic of the forest was certainly getting to his sensibilities. He looked to the south, toward the woman, toward the Spires that loomed over them with darkened, thrashing storm clouds that stopped at the wall of trees by the gate.
Perhaps the betrothal was as awful as he’d always thought if Zalina said the same. Perhaps he should seek out his own bride. Perhaps it could even beher.
Raela
