Dietan screws up his eyebrows. “Do you really hate me so much that you can’t even pretend to kiss me?”
I clench my fists in annoyance.
His smile falls.
“I just didn’t expect it, that’s all,” I say. “You took me by surprise.”
Dietan holds up his hands, placating, as he’s now used to doing with me. “It’s not my fault. The crowd expects a kiss or two. It’s a Wedding March, after all. We need to give them something to talk about, and it’s only a kiss. I mean, it’s not like it’s yourfirstkiss or anything.”
I know I’m turning as red as the flowers in the vase because he suddenly looks away. “Oh no— Don’t tell me you’ve never— Not that I think you’re some kind of—” He must sense he’s treading into dangerous territory, because he interrupts himself. “You knew we had to pretend to be engaged. I assumed you’d had some experience, especially with a thing as small as a kiss.”
What did he think? Just because I’m a barmaid, I must’ve fooled around with every farmhand and apprentice in town? I’m as embarrassed as I am frustrated.
All my life, I’ve been looking after my sisters. All my life, I’ve been taking care of Father, and the house, and the Beak. All my life, I’ve never had time to make myself pretty or moon over some boy. Never once did I ever have time to sneak away in the night to do something “as small as a kiss.” I was more likely to wait at the window for a hopeful young man to walk one of my sisters home after a stroll through the town square.
A kiss isn’t a small thing. It’s not something to do just for the sake of doing it.
Who cares that I’m a quarter of a century old and I’ve never been kissed?
“Wait, you haven’t…kissed anyone?” he asks.
“No,” I say, my face burning hot and my jaw set tight. “I haven’t.” I didn’t think this far in advance. I didn’t consider that I would need to kiss him at all—don’t princesses just smile and wave?
When I kiss someone, I plan to mean it. As the years passed and no kisses came, I just thought maybe no one wanted to kiss me.
“Oh,” is all he says. He must sense that it’s a topic of personal conflict, because to my great surprise, he doesn’t laugh or make a joke. “I’m sorry. I should have accounted for your feelings…”
His words seem sincere. But why would he ever care about my feelings? That’s not part of the deal. I don’t know how to respond when he’s being so…nice.
“Um, and just in case you were worried, we’re not sleeping here together. I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” Dietan says, breaking the silence. He opens the door I’d assumed led to a closet, revealing a connected bedroom with its own bed. “I didn’t want you to think you would have to sleep with me at night. I mean— You know, sleepnextto me, not…” Now he’s the one furiously blushing.
My stomach twists. “Right. Wonderful. On that, we can agree.” I’m relieved but also disappointed, and I’m not sure why. Harvest Mother, did Iwantto sleep here with him? The thought makes me flushed; it feels wonderful and awful at the same time.
He studies me, hand flexing thoughtfully on the doorknob to the other room. There are some stray flower petals from the wreaths left in his hair, and I want to reach up to pluck them out, but I don’t. I keep my distance.
He opens his mouth, then stops himself from saying whatever he originally intended. After a beat, he says, “Look, I’m sorry that I upset you. I’ll do better next time. Your first kiss should be special. I’m a jerk. I’m sorry.”
A prince. Apologizing. That’s a new one, and it feels real. But then I remember him on one knee, asking for my hand, when it was just a ruse, just a way to fix the problem he carries between his shoulder blades. That looked awfully real to everyone else in Evandale, too. Do princes even apologize to commoners?
I lift my chin. “It’s all right.”
He tilts his head in a slight nod and leaves, closing his door behind him.
I wait, listening to him moving about in the adjoining room, my heart pulsing rapidly. I hear his feet moving across the hardwood floor, the soft thud of a wardrobe door closing, the thump of the mattress as he throws himself down on top of it. Then there’s silence.
Meanwhile, I sit on the corner of my own bed, allowing the day’s events to catch up to me. Thoughts of my sisters, my father, of leaving Evandale all flit through my mind.
But really all I can think about is Dietan on the other side of the wall. He’s so close but separated by what feels like an entire world. The gentle breeze blows the lace curtains apart, revealing a glimpse of flower fields in the light of the setting sun. I’m going to be traveling with him for a long time, and it will feel even longer if I continue this vendetta to annoy him simply for being who he is.
I need to apologize, don’t I? I’ve been hard on him, and he apologized first. It’s only fair.
I walk over to his door, raising my hand to knock, then hesitate. We’re engaged in name only. We are business partners mutually invested in the success of this mission. I need to establish boundaries and make sure no lines are crossed, but…I must admit I enjoyed his kiss on my cheek, even if I didn’t show it.
At last, I knock.
“Yeah?” he calls.
“I’m sorry, too,” I say, loudly enough that he’ll hear me through the door. “I’ll be more prepared when you kiss me next time.”
