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He rushed over to the training grounds, searching for his friend. He swept through all the usual haunts before finally asking the weapon master’s apprentice.
“Nathan, where is Lord Phineas?”
“Your Highness?” He turned his hat about, as if struggling to find the words. “You … you asked for a small squadron to secure the northern harbor before the freeze. He left about six days ago.” Six days with no additions to Killian’s book pile. That explained it.
Killian closed his eyes. Of course he had. Killian hadn’t asked for Phineas specifically, but the shipyards were perilous and required a strong leader to keep the men safe. So of course, Phineas had volunteered. A pang of guilt hit him.
Muttering his thanks, Killian slunk back to his room. He was finally ready to—what was that word?Shillet?—to let free his friend from the bitter jail Killian had held him in. To apologize, to gain Phineas’s forgiveness, to release his own bitterness, but due to his own orders, he was unable to restore the friendship today. If only Killian had gone himself or gone with Phineas instead of fleeing into the forest, or whatever other excuses he had conjured, everything could have already been fixed. Dejected, Killian eyed the remaining tower of unread books. As penance and an apology, Killian would read everything Phineas had brought him even while Killian had petulantly ignored him.
He dragged his hand down his face. Petulant indeed. Killian resolved in his heart to do better next time. Hopefully, Phineas would come home soon, and he could fix this mess he had made.
Lady Zalina hounded his steps. His father glared daggers at him. The tailors seemed to lie in wait behind every corner. For some reason, the butler needed to know his opinion on drapery colors and napkins. The castle buzzed with his impending wedding celebration. The changing of seasons also meant more harvest balls and kowtowing to the nobility. Every other night Killian was expected to smile and pretend. And the women didn’t hold back their false smiles, hiding their heartbreak behind a flicker of hope as his wedding ceremony approached and still no bride appeared.
Killian continued to run toward the one person who accepted him just as he was. She didn’t understand charm even when Killian accidentally used it. His flowers confused Raela. His wink made her ask him if there was a bug in his eye. His best lines didn’t translate well at all, though they did make her laugh. She just … accepted him. Seemed to like him as he was, even when he was clumsy or unrefined.
Unlike Zalina, when Raela touched him, there was no subterfuge or sneaky attempts to woo him for the position as his queen. There was no crown weighing them down with all the responsibilities and falsehoods that held. He was just a man.
A man who was falling for her.
Killian wasn’t even sure why he should stop himself anymore.
They lay in the grass, staring at the puffs of clouds, guessing the animal each one looked like, sometimes followed by badly drawn pictures from Killian to expand their words. Since she was learning Common so well, he tried to pick up L’Turetian in return.
Killian kicked himself for overlooking an ancient journal Phineas had unearthed from the library several weeks ago. It was nearly the same language, but the script had been hard to read and the papers so fragile that he had passed over it. Maybe soon he would know enough words to translate it. One passage said something about licking a flower, which meant he was probably mistranslating already. He’d forgotten it but would bring it with him next time to ask for Raela’s help.
The grass smelled fresh and sweet, especially next to her. Killian threaded his fingers over the grass as Raela talked in Common about everything and nothing. It all sounded like music to him.
He sucked in a sharp breath and sat up, drawing up his finger to examine it. The grass had cut him, thinly shearing his fingertip. Blood welled up immediately.
“Ow,” Killian said at the same time Raela said, “Ach!”
She reached for him and pulled out a handkerchief, dabbing at the blood. “Remember what I taught you about the grass,” she chided. “Witch’s Blade looks pretty and grows fast, but it has its name for a reason. Don’t confuse it for Blueseed.”
Don’t be an idiot, Killian.Jax snorted as he rolled over beside them, his legs were in the air, bent at the paws.
“This will help.” Still holding the fabric, she bent and kissed the tip of his finger. “There, have a … what is this?” She made a kiss sound again as she pointed to her lips.
Killian swallowed against the sudden dryness of his throat. “A kiss.”
She kissed his finger again. “There, a kiss for a …” She looked at him, as if she were trying to remember, then her eyes brightened. “For the pain.”
He whispered, “A kiss for the pain.” But he was transfixed on the tingle that the kiss left on his fingertip which traveled up his arm, through his chest, and prickled the skin on the back of his neck.
“Better?” She grinned at him, and he nodded, so she pulled his hand into her lap, even as her gaze shifted to the dark clouds that hovered over the tall mountain peaks to the south. They were barely visible over the high trees around the meadow, but their peaks looked jagged and menacing. She idly played with his fingers, careful to avoid the cut.
Tilting her head toward it, she said, “The wind is cold. A storm sits on the mountain.”
Killian watched the ashy, lenticular cloud as it hovered over the highest peaks, the darkness of the cloud’s base strikingly ominous. Killian shifted uncomfortably, his pending ceremony intruding into his peaceful thoughts. The clouds mirrored his own internal turmoil. “Good thing it’s still far off.”
Her fingertips tapped on his palm, which she still had in her grasp, her gaze distant. “Will you come to me even when there is snow?”
He smiled, though his heart lurched at the promise. “I will come to you even if there are feet and feet of snow.”
“You only have two feet,” Raela said with a frown.
Killian chuckled. “I meant, even if the snow comes up to here”—he held his hand above his head—“I will still come.”
“That is too much snow, and that has not happened many times in the past.” She tilted her head, considering. “But if that much snow, I will come too. Jax will be warm, so I will sit by Jax. Just like I have kept warm with Mother Bear, I mean, Klatma, before her long sleeps.”
