"I only think they deserve the chance to choose each other," she tried again, "Just as we were denied that choice."
"We seem to be making do just fine," Oliver turned to her at that.
Something in his tone struck a nerve. Her mouth pressed into a line.
"Forgive me, Your Grace," she said, the title stiff on her tongue, "I thought we had moved past such cold formality."
At that, he faltered. His shoulders dropped slightly. But Alethea had already stood up, feeling foolish now. She could not explain her own emotional reaction, but she could not help herself either. She heard Oliver's footsteps behind her, following her immediately.
"Alethea," he said again, quieter now. "I don't mean to be cruel. It's only… you speak of love so easily, as if it can solve everything. But you've never had to bear the weight of a family name. Of a title that demands more of you than your own heart ever could."
"No," she said, turning to face him. "But I know what it means to be denied choices, and I worry that you are doing the same here."
His face softened at that. A flicker of shame passed through his eyes.
"I—" His voice caught. "That's not what I meant."
"You do not have to protect everyone, Oliver. You cannot control every outcome, no matter how noble your intentions," she went on.
"I only want what is best," he stepped closer to her.
"And what if your brother believes Joyce is what is best?" she challenged.
"I cannot…"
"You're not listening…"
"I am listening!" he snapped, louder than he intended.
Alethea flinched. The change in her was immediate. Her expression froze, a flicker of instinct flashing across her face before she caught it. She said nothing, but folded her arms around herself.
"I am sorry," he said immediately. "I did not mean to raise my voice."
"It's all right," she said quickly, though her voice was quieter now. "I told you, it was only a reflex. I'm not afraid of you."
He took another step closer, slowly. The tall hedge beside them blocked the view from the rest of the field.
"You would hate me," he said, his words a whisper, "if you knew the things I imagined doing to the man who hurt you. The thoughts I had… things even God would not forgive."
"But I don't hate you," she said gently. The admission had sent a shiver down her spine.
"I would have torn him apart with my bare hands," he admitted, "I would have destroyed anything that threatened you. Every time I think of this, I have the same anger as before."
"Both of us cannot be angry," she admitted. "One of us must be the calm one."
"Then it will have to be you."
Her hand came up to his cheek without thinking. And then he kissed her.
Alethea had not been expecting it, but she could not pull away either. Their families were not too far away but right now, she did not care if anyone saw her. It was a gentle kiss and it was over soon after it started.
Both of them stared at each other, breathless.
"I shouldn't have…" he began.
"I know," she said quickly, swallowing hard.
"We should return before someone comes looking. It is getting dark anyway, and we should be heading back home anyway."
