I don’t dare look at Rhys. What a child he must think I am.
The sound of ripping fabric draws my attention, and I look up. Without a word, Rhys offers me the scrap—a piece of his shirt.
I stare at him, horrified.
“Take it,” he says, his voice too even. “I have nothing else to offer.”
Slowly, I stretch out my hand, accepting the gift. The fabric isn’t soft, not like one of my dozen handkerchiefs at home. It’s functional, sturdy. And it’s probably from the only shirt Rhys owns.
“Thank you,” I murmur, overwhelmed by the gesture.
I dab my face, unable to look him in the eye. He hesitates for several seconds, and then he kneels in front of me, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Was spending a few hours wandering in an orchard all that tragic?” he asks, but something in his tone tells me he knows there’s more to this than just that.
“I recently lost someone close to me,” I whisper, and just the words make my eyes gloss over once more. “This is the first time I’ve…” I press my lips together, refusing to lose it again. After a moment, I clear my throat. “He told me to be strong.”
Rhys draws his brows together.
“Do you think that’s why I couldn’t cry?” I stare at the ripped square of fabric. “Do you think I’ve let him down now that I have?”
Rhys doesn’t answer right away. I don’t even know why I’m saying these things to this aloof stranger. Maybe it’s because he’s a stranger. I don’t have to pretend in front of him—he doesn’t know me, doesn’t expect anything of me. I can’t disappoint him.
I meet his eyes, desperately wanting him to answer, begging him to ease my guilt.
“No,” he finally says. “I don’t think you’ve let him down.”
I nod, taking his words to heart as I press the wet cloth to my face once again. After another minute, I take a deep breath and face him once more. “Who are you?”
A muscle twitches in his jaw. “We’ve been over this.”
“No, you told me your name. Give me something else. I’ll likely never see you again, and I want something substantial to cling to when I remember the night.”
Ever so slightly, he cocks his head to the side.
“Please?” I whisper.
We stare at each other for several long heartbeats. I’m desperately grateful for the cover of night. My eyes feel puffy, and I know they’re red. My cheeks are probably stained with tear trails, and strands of my hair are stuck to my face.
“I am currently a huntsman,” he says rather tonelessly, surprising me with an answer. “Though it’s not my father’s profession.”
“And your family?”
“They live far from here,” he answers.
“Tell me about them.”
He presses his lips together, obviously not keen to share.
“Fine,” I relent. “Tell me something trivial then.”
Looking truly baffled, he studies me. “Why?”
“Because I want to remember you.”
Sitting at the edge of the orchard with this man is nothing short of surreal. The moon shines down on us, and it’s so quiet, we could be the only people in the world.
I’ve never done anything like this in my life.
Looking frustrated—either with himself or me—Rhys shakes his head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Sunsets or Sunrises?” I prompt. “Which do you like best?”
“I…what?”
He looks so flummoxed; I can’t help but smile. “Just answer,” I coax. “Don’t think. Answer quickly.”
“Sunrises.”
“Summer or winter?”
“Summer.”
“Dogs or cats?”
“Neither.”
I blink at him. “You don’t like animals?”
He looks away, stretching his neck. “Animals die.”
A sick feeling settles in my stomach, and I glance back at the orchard.
Rhys nudges my shoulder, making me look back. “I don’t mean in the immediate future.”
“Favorite color?” I ask, trying not to think of Ember. Rhys said the trees will let her go in the morning, and I just have to believe him.
The huntsman shakes his head, and the tiniest smile plays at his mouth, mesmerizing me. “Irrelevant.”
“First kiss?” I ask, my tone slightly breathless.
His eyebrows shoot up, and that small smile disappears. “Is that a question? How am I supposed to answer?”
“Who was it?”
He stares at me for the longest time. “I don’t remember her name.”
It’s my turn to be surprised. “Truly?”
He shrugs. “I was eight; she was seven—she ambushed me.”
I grin, looking away. I can’t think of anything else to ask him, so it grows silent between us.
After several long moments, he almost reluctantly asks, “First kiss?”
“Irrelevant,” I immediately answer.
“Irrelevant?” He continues to study me. “Or not applicable?”
I swallow, and my stomach flutters. I have a sudden urge to act rashly. If I can’t be bold on a night like this, then when?
“In a meadow, mid-spring, right beside a haunted orchard.” I meet Rhys’s eyes. “He was a gallant stranger who came to my rescue, and though I’ll never see him again, I’ll carry the memory of that kiss with me forever.”
The man made me laugh—he let me cry and tore his shirt so I could dry my tears. I just want one kiss, one trivial little kiss. I know it’s foolish. I can’t even quite explain it myself.
I expect Rhys to end this right here—walk me back to the city gates, deposit me with the guards, and then disappear from my life forever.
Instead, his eyes lock on mine. My pulse quickens, and my breath comes faster. Slowly, he stands, taking hold of my arm and pulling me up with him.
He’s tall and sturdy. Real. I’m not dreaming, even if this is the most impossible thing that’s ever happened to me.
No—not impossible. Magical.
We stand close, though we’re not touching. Rhys’s movements are deliberate, slow. He pushes back my hood and runs a hand down my braided hair. I hold my breath when he slides his palm along the side of my neck. He brushes his thumb over my jaw. His skin feels warm and just a little rough.
I’ve never been touched like this. It’s terrifying, exhilarating. Soon, I will give my life over to the Requeamare. I will set aside my own desires and marry a man who will make a good king.
But tonight is mine.
Rhys leans down, and I turn my face toward him, closing my eyes. I tingle with anticipation, completely breathless.
And then…Rhys presses his lips against my forehead.
My eyes fly open as my lips part with an unformed protest.
Backing up slightly, Rhys strokes my face just once and then drops his hand. “I’ll walk you back to the city.”
6
I blink several times as I try to think of a response that won’t betray my disappointment. Thankfully, it seems I won’t have to.
A familiar howl sounds from behind me, and I whip around, crying out when I spot Ember. She runs for me, her tail wagging like we just played a game. In her mind, she found me and won.
I drop to the ground and wrap my arms around her neck, letting her nuzzle my hair. As I cuddle the dog, I glance at the orchard. The trees are motionless, acting like, well, trees.
But perhaps they were watching just now, maybe they witnessed my humiliation and took pity on me. If so, I am grateful.
“Thank you,” I murmur to them, hoping they will hear.
As if to answer, a single firefly, out far too early for the season, flickers in the darkness and then disappears.
The gates are closed by the time we reach them. Two guards stand in front, watching the road that enters the city. Several more flank the battlements, keeping an eye on the countryside. They are the ones who concern me.
Did t
hey spot Rhys and me in the meadow? Do they recognize me now?
The moment the huntsman and I draw near, a familiar voice calls down, “Open the gates.”
The guards do as they’re told, obeying Gage without question.
My cousin meets me on the other side, looking relieved…and a touch angry. He sets his hands on my shoulders and leans down to meet my eyes. Quietly, he demands, “What were you thinking leaving this time of night?”
“Ember was restless,” I tell him, acutely aware of Rhys behind me. “She needed a run.”
Slowly, Gage lets a controlled breath out through his nose, and his expression softens. “Ember was restless? Or Amalia?”
I can’t hide my smile. “Let’s say both.”
Releasing me, standing taller, Gage turns his attention to Rhys. He doesn’t look pleased.
I clasp my hands, nervous. Gage is my first cousin, my mother’s sister’s son. At twenty-four, he’s only a year older than me. His mother moved to the castle when Father and Mother wed, not long after a riding accident took his father’s life. We grew up together. He’s as much a brother to me as Braeton, and to be honest, I’m closer to him than I am Keir.
Which makes this situation rather awkward.
Rhys eyes Gage for a long moment, and then the huntsman turns to me. “No more wandering after dark.”
My shoulders fall slightly, but I nod.
That is that, I suppose. Our time is already spent.
With a respectful nod to Gage, but not so much as a goodbye to me, Rhys heads down the street and into the city.
I resist the urge to call him back. My disappointment is sharper than it should be for so brief a meeting.
Gage stares after him, frowning. Once he’s gone, my cousin turns back to me. “Your parents are frantic.”
“I was afraid they would be.”
He tugs me along, giving the guards a wave as we go. I glance at them, wary.
“Will they spread rumors of my outing?” I whisper once we have passed.
Gage shakes his head. “I switched the guard as soon as we learned of your absence. I trust all who were keeping watch tonight.”
Relieved, I nod.
“I also might have played up your depression—you’ve been wandering a bit, talking to yourself. Just thought you’d like to know.”
I roll my eyes. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he says with a grin. His smile dims as we climb the stone stairway to the upper part of the city. “Do you know that man? Was he the reason you threw off your chains and slipped away?”
I shake my head. “I met him tonight. He found me when I was lost in the orchard.”
Holding my breath, I wait for Gage to react—to demand to know what I was doing in such a dangerous place at night.
Instead, he snorts out a laugh. “You got lost in the orchard? The one beyond the meadow to the west of the city?”
“Yes…”
“It’s tiny, Amalia. Even in the dark, how could you get turned around in it?”
Unease blooms in my stomach. Gage doesn’t know either.
How is that possible? How does Rhys know something neither of us are aware of? Shouldn’t it be common knowledge? Surely I’m not the first person to wander into an orchard at night.
I force a laugh. “I suppose I’m just talented.”
Gage glances back. “Are you all right?” Sincere concern laces his voice, making me feel bad for worrying him.
I think back to Rhys, how he found me and led me back to the meadow. He wasn’t jovial or talkative—or particularly friendly, for that matter—but he came to my aid, nonetheless.
Never in my life have I had such an exciting experience.
“I’m fine,” I assure Gage.
“Something arrived while you were gone,” Gage says cryptically.
“Something?”
My cousin pauses as if carefully choosing his words. “A letter.”
“A letter?” I ask, surprised. “From whom?”
“Braeton.” Quickly, before I can respond, he says, “It was sent before…”
He trails off, unable to finish the thought. But he doesn’t need to—I know.
Before my brother died.
7
My dark mood intensifies with every step I take. The city is quiet, most people already asleep or preparing to be soon. Music and laughter drift from the taverns as I pass, but I have no desire to join the patrons within.
I loathe this kingdom, with their fertile fields, gentle rain, and comfortable lives. They can afford to make themselves merry in the evenings—the work practically takes care of itself here. You plant a seed; it grows without assistance. You buy a cow; it gets fat in a meadow.
The game is also plentiful, making it all too easy for me to slip into my role. But I’m not here to carve out a new life for myself. I have one purpose—one alone—and she’s going to be more trouble than I imagined.
How am I going to make the princess trust me when I’d rather shake sense into her? How am I going to befriend her when there is a complete absence of guile in her eyes?
It will be like deceiving a kitten.
My mind drifts back to the meadow. I think about the way Amalia looked at me in the moonlight, face tilted up, asking me to kiss her. It was her tears…they gutted me. They were the cry of true, haunted agony, and they were my undoing.
I stumbled for a short while—let myself forget who Amalia is and the kingdom she represents. It won’t happen again.
With a sigh, I push through the door of the Kenrow Inn, a semi-respectable establishment that serves as my temporary home—at least until Amalia leaves on her Requeamare.
“Evening, Rhys,” the woman at the bar says with a coy smile. She leans over the counter, putting her assets on display, and waves a rag in the air.
I don’t remember her name, nor do I care to learn it, but she’s the owner. According to some, she offers the best ale in all Renove, but all I can attest to is the fact that she drinks as much as she sells.
“Come have a drink with me, love.” She then hiccups, which makes her giggle, and she holds her hand demurely over her mouth as if she wants people to believe she’s a lady.
“Not tonight,” I tell her, walking past.
She puts on a pout that’s not nearly as charming as she thinks it is. “You say that every night.”
You’d think she’d get the point.
I jog up the wooden stairs, my body sparking with anxious energy. Even if my first meeting with the princess didn’t go the way I planned, it ended well enough.
The girl’s face is an open book. When we parted, she wore her disappointment for anyone to see…including her cousin.
Gage might prove to be a problem. I’ll have to lie low until the princess leaves Kenrow, being careful not to further arouse his suspicions. I hadn’t planned to let the king’s nephew see my face tonight, but I didn’t trust Amalia to find her way back unescorted.
When I open the door to my room, I find a man sitting in the solitary chair by the bed. He glances over, looking bored. He’s dressed in black, from his boots to his long jacket.
“You’re back?” I say to Tryndon as I step inside.
“I accompanied the men as you requested. They’re camped outside of town, awaiting your orders.”
“Did you find trouble?”
“None.”
“Good.” I look back at him, narrowing my eyes. “What are you wearing? Tomorrow, buy clothing that doesn’t make you look like an aspiring assassin.”
My brother looks down at his jacket, grinning. “You object to my clothing, captain?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“How should I address you then, oh fearless leader? Sir? Chief?”
I open the door and give him a pointed look. “You may leave.”
“But I just got here.”
“And you’re already talking nonsense.”
Chuckling, he kicks off his boots, silently informing me he’s
not going anywhere. “Cassia sent me gossip. Don’t you want to hear it?”
With a sigh, I close the door. “Fine.”
8
I read Braeton’s last words to me for the hundredth time, letting my tears trail down my cheeks.
My brother ended up traveling the road to Saulette, taking a ferry to Grib and then a ship to Talton. He speaks of a statue of our great-grandfather in the city and a confection shop where he tried multicolored ribbon candy. Along with the letter, Braeton added a sketch of the red herons that grace the shores of Lake Saulette.
Locals speak of a forest in the north, where, once a year in the spring, the trees light up the night sky when they bloom. They call it the Forest of Firelight. I’d like to see it if I can make it in time. We’re heading there next.
I wish you were with me, Amalia. You would have loved this adventure. I should have fought Father, and I’m sorry I did not. Someday, you’ll travel here too. I swear it.
Yours,
Braeton
“Forest of Firelight,” I whisper, running my finger over the ink. Is there such a place? One full of magic that blooms once a year?
If so…I want to see it. According to the report, Braeton never made it to Rock Creek—he never saw the Forest of Firelight. I want to travel there for him.
I fold the parchment with great care and tuck it in my pack along with the ragged scrap of fabric that carries my tears.
Tomorrow, we leave.
Keir doesn’t come to say goodbye.
I tell myself that I’m all right—that it doesn’t break my heart that my younger brother resents me so bitterly.
But it does.
“I’m sorry,” Father says as he pulls me into one of his big hugs that would usually make me laugh. “Your brother is angry with me—not you.”
I understand—I know the way Keir’s mind works. Eventually, he’ll forgive me for being born before him. Will he forgive Father for choosing to follow the birth order? Of that, I’m not certain.
It’s just past two in the morning, and the city is asleep around us. We make a strange, royal group, hidden in the night.
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