I attempt a laugh, as if the whole conversation is very flippant. “And men usually like women like her.”
He’s quiet. When I dare to peek at him, I find him watching me intently. “Blonde, you mean?” He tilts his head, his meaning clear.
I work hard to gulp down a bite of food and nudge my own light curls behind my shoulder. I shrug again and wave my hand. “Blue eyes.”
“I like green.”
I freeze, my eyes trained on the plate. A familiar feeling dances in my stomach—something beautiful and heartbreaking. I lick my lips and meet his gaze.
Even with his black eye, he’s too handsome and far too royal. If letting my heart get tangled with Dimitri was a bad idea, then feeling something for this wounded prince is foolish at best.
“Are you sure of your decision about Irving?”
My mouth is so dry, I’m afraid I will croak when I answer. “I’ve already told him no.”
“Do you think he will accept it?”
“He doesn’t have a choice.”
Just so I have something to do with my hands, I take another bite.
“So, you’re not stringing him along so he’ll find Dimitri for you?”
I inhale sharply. “How could you think that? Of course I’m not!”
He rests his forearms on the table. “There was a man in the group next to us. I spoke with him after you left.”
The conversation turns so quickly, I’m almost dizzy. Confused, I wait for him to finish.
“He’s from Vernow. Irving is right; there are festivals galore this time of year.”
What has Galinor found out? I lean forward, eager to hear more.
“If you go south from here tomorrow, you will arrive in Crayhope just before evening. The festival starts the next day.”
In other words, we will part in the morning. Galinor will go on to his castle, and I will go to Vernow. I push my plate away, no longer hungry.
“I thought you would be happier.” Galinor’s voice is soft. “You have somewhere to begin.”
I fake a smile. “I am happy.” Even I don’t trust my words. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He stands, hesitating by the door. “Goodnight, Anwen.”
I nod and stare at the wooden door long after he shuts it.
It’s mid-morning,but the sun has decided to hide behind a thick blanket of low-hanging clouds. The weather suits me. My eyes are blurry, and I’m more than a little irritable.
“Anwen.” Marigold turns the mirror in her hand so her reflection meets my eyes. “You look exhausted.”
“I didn’t sleep well,” I mumble as I twist strands of her hair and a ribbon into a tight braid that travels down her back, perfect for a day of riding.
“Irving’s told me the two of you are traveling toVernow from here,” she says. There’s something indiscernible in her tone.
My hands go still in her hair. “You aren’t riding with us?” I tie the ribbon at the bottom. It should hold. “I had hoped you would come.”
“No. I will travel with Galinor to his home and wait for Irving there.”
Galinor and Marigold are traveling together.
