She made a face and shook her head. “No.”
Gus waited, sensing there was more. Daffy traced the grain of the table, avoiding Gus’s intense gaze. “The pain of it stayed with me for a long time. I… I’d lost my best friend. I thought you all were my friends, like family really.”
Her lips twisted around her confession, and though she tried to smile and bat them away, tears collected in her eyes.
“Daffy, I’m so sorry.” He smiled. “I’ve been saying that a lot lately. Sorry.”
“Either way, all ofthatwas a long time ago. We’ve grown up. Moved on.”
Hemstead crashed through the pub door. Ah, there he was. Slower than Gus imagined. He stalked through the tables filled with patrons and, with a determined scowl, sat in the nearest chair, his steely eyes pinned on Gus.
“Something tells me I won’t be sneaking out alone again.”
Daffy covered her laugh with her hand. “Well, give the chap a break. It’s his job to mind you.”
“Mind me? I’m not two.”
“But you are a royal. And that changes things.”
“It always does.” Gus closed his eyes and sighed. Shifted his shoulders, as if settling a weight on them again. “Shall we go?”
They waved goodbye to Ernst and Betsy and the lads lingering at the tables, motioned for Hemstead to follow, and stepped into the cold. The storm had passed, and the northern stars spread across the night sky.
“Up in the mountains, you can see twice as many stars.” Gus crossed over to Canal Street and leaned on the railing to overlook the quay. Hemstead stood a few feet away.
“I know.” Daffy joined him, shivering, folding her arms over her torso. “I came up here with friends to ski two years ago. Broke my ankle. Haven’t tried since.”
“Ankle breaks are the worst.” He put his arm around her and turned her slightly to the south, pointing. “Can you see the Hand of God?”
“The cleft in the cliff?” She brushed her hair away from her face. “Too dark.”
“Not if you look just right. The rocks reflect the light. See?” He pointed again, telling her to follow the line of his arm.
Daffy squinted. “I’m not sure. Is it there?” She pointed in the direction of the cleft.
Gus stepped in closer. Too close. But just this once he wanted to feel like he was her man. He was letting Dalholm’s spell cloud his judgment. “That’s it. Ever climb up?”
“I haven’t. Too high.”
“We’ll climb sometime. I can lead you up. Can your ankle handle a steep climb?”
“I think so. It hurts still from time to time, but it’s probably more in my head than my bones.”
“Can I ask you a personal question?” Gus drew his arms to himself and leaned on the railing. From the corner of his eye, he could see Hemstead staring out over the channel. “Why Thomas? What made you pick him?”
“Why does anyone pick another person to love?” she said. “We get on well. Started meeting up at the pub. Ran into him at church one Sunday. Then he suggested a movie night at his flat and things took off from there. He’s sweet and funny, talented and smart.”
“And?”
“And what?” He couldn’t make out her expression in the shadows of the amber street lamps.
“Is that enough?” The dark made it easy to ask questions one wouldn’t pursue in the light.
“Shouldn’t it be? Why’d you pick Coral? Or Lady Robbi?”
“Robbi and I were both on the rebound when we saw each other at a party. We were what we needed in the moment. I got carried away and proposed. But Coral? She was a different story.” And one he wasn’t ready to share. “Do you love him? Thomas?”
“Yes, I suppose so.” She turned for the street. “We should go. It’s getting cold.”
