“It’s just that you disappeared so abruptly.” Cool, too-observant eyes did a short but thorough scan, not missing the hectic color in Summer’s flushed cheeks. “Are you not feeling well, sweeting? Should I summon Tildy?”
“No!” Sweet Halla, the last thing Summer wanted was their childhood nurse, Tildavera Greenleaf, examining her. The canny old woman had an unnerving knack for divining exactly what ailed a person.
Aware that her protest was more a bit too forceful, Summer smoothed her hair back off her face and forced her nerves to calm. “No,” she said again in a much more subdued voice. “I’m fine. Something from breakfast didn’t entirely agree with me, but I’m already much better.” The lie fell easily from her lips, and she dragged her customary serene mask firmly back into place. “We’d better get going before our suitor thinks we’ve run off.”
“I doubt he’s even noticed our absence.” Spring’s mouth quirked. “Autumn is with him.”
Somehow, Summer managed to summon a grin and a laugh. That seemed to allay any of Spring’s remaining suspicions, and the pair of them walked arm in arm back to the palace, hanging back a far enough distance from Calberna’s prince that Summer managed to get her panic under control.
As they walked, Konumarr City came alive with music and laughter and took on a carnival-like atmosphere. Jugglers, acrobats, fire dancers, and musicians took to the streets, providing entertainment from every corner and plaza. Already, scores of women bold enough to mingle with the Calbernans found themselves surrounded by openly admiring men, each vying for attention. Summer watched a brave child approach one of the men and reached out to touch his shimmering blue tattoos. When he knelt down to show them off, a dozen children and almost as many young women flocked round. People were smiling, food and ale was flowing. The ice had been broken.
The reception Khamsin and Wynter were hosting across the fjord in the palace’s western gardens was slightly more subdued than the celebrations of the city, but no less welcoming. A small orchestra played from a candlelit grotto, tables overflowed with the bounty of Summerlea and Wintercraig, and scores of nobles, wealthy merchants, and tradesmen, as well as unattached ladies of both noble and gentle birth had gathered to make the acquaintance of Calberna’s officers.
Summer’s gaze scanned the gathered throng, stopping as it passed over one particular Calbernan. His back was to her, but she knew it was him. The long, greenish-black ropes of his hair hung down his back, drawing her eyes to his muscled shoulders, the line of his spine that disappeared into the flowing skirt belted at his trim waist. Her belly began to flutter. Her skin felt flushed. She drew a shuddering breath.
“Vivi?”
“Yes, Gabriella?”
“Do you think we could convince them to start wearing actual clothes?”
Spring laughed.
Chapter 4
The little honeyrose was avoiding him.
Standing alone in the shadows, Dilys surveyed the torchlit beauty of the palace’s terraced western gardens. It was midnight. The sun had set an hour or so ago, though its light was still a glow on the horizon, and the reception was in full swing. Music was playing. Food and drink flowed without any sign of cessation. His officers were clearly enjoying themselves, and even though here at the palace, they weren’t as outnumbered by potentiallianasas their brothers across the fjord, there was no shortage of engaging feminine companionship.
Wintercraig’s years of war had left their share of widows even among its gently-bred and noble families.
Truth be told, Dilys was still surprised by the warmth of their reception. The Calbernans had, after all, landed on these shores last winter as enemy combatants. But so far as he’d been able to tell, none of the women who had gathered here at the palace had lost a loved one to a Calbernan blade or trident. He was grateful for that. War was war, and the price of it dear, but joy would be elusive in any marriage where one party had suffered grief on account of the other.
That made Dilys wonder if perhaps the little honeyrose was avoiding him because she blamed him for her father’s death. The garm—not the Calbernans—had slain King Verdan, but maybe she thought that without the Calbernans and their army to aid him, there would have been no rebellion, and therefore the king would still be alive.
Or perhaps she begrudged him the contract he’d broken with her brother, Falcon. Summerlea’s prince had spoken fondly of all his sisters—but most especially of the gentle-hearted one he’d called “our sweet Summer Rose.” Perhaps they’d shared a close-knit bond. Maybe she had wanted her father and brother to take back their homeland, and blamed Dilys for Falcon’s exile.
Whatever her reason for avoiding him, her sisters didn’t share the sentiment—or at least were much better at hiding it, if they did.
Autumn had started off a bit haughty and distant. He’d expected that. A woman as beautiful as she was undoubtedly used to men fawning over her, so he’d made a point of approaching her not as a man dazzled by her beauty but as a boon companion. And once he’d discovered her love of food and laughter, indulging her with both had brought her barriers down.
Spring was a tougher nut to crack. Every bit as cool and keenly intellectual as the reports on her had stated, she wasn’t easily charmed. But Dilys didn’t mind a challenge. After spending perhaps an hour in her company—during which he’d talked to her mostly about several papers she’d written on agricultural techniques and a new breed of pest-resistant crops—he’d taken his leave and wandered off to mingle with the other guests. His departure had surprised her as much as his choice of conversation, and he’d felt her eyes on him numerous times since. Mission accomplished.
The little honeyrose, however, remained elusive. He’d caught glimpses of her as the night progressed, but whenever he tried to make his way to her location, she was always gone before he got there. Now, instead of trying to seek her out, he found a quiet, sheltered spot that provided him an excellent view of the gardens and observed from the shadows as she worked her way through the gathered throng.
As he watched, he could see how naturally people responded to her, their smiles genuine, their expressions gentling when she was near. Occasionally someone would say something that made her soft laughter burst forth. When it did, she lit up, her joy incandescent, and people gravitated towards her even more readily, moths orbiting a radiant flame.
His own men weren’t any more immune to her effortless charm than the Winterfolk. Every time she stopped to smile and chat with one of them, their spines straightened and their chests swelled from the attention she lavished upon them.
His men’s reaction wasn’t what surprised him. Calbernans thrived on feminine attention. It was the sweetest food for the soul. What surprised him was how much he resented his men for being the recipients of Summer Coruscate’s attention.
If he didn’t know better, he’d say he was jealous, but of course, that was ridiculous. His planned “courtship” of King Verdan’s gentlest daughter was to be nothing more than a polite pretense. As such, her obvious desire to avoid him should have been a welcome relief—one less distraction to interfere with his determined pursuit of the regal Princess Spring or the beautiful Princess Autumn. And yet, the more Summer Coruscate smiled and charmed his men, the more she poured her bright incandescence upon them while blatantly denying him even the tiniest fraction of her regard, the tenser and more irritated he became.
He told himself he should let it go and just stay clear of her. Yet when he watched her wander to the edge of the crowd, then slip away when she thought no one was looking, Dilys followed.
The garden paths were illuminated with lanterns, but Gabriella kept to the shadows, preferring the peaceful anonymity of darkness as she walked down the hill to the shores of the Llaskroner Fjord. The moon was a large, silvery crescent in the sky, its light glittering on the night-dark waters, and the relative silence as the raucous sounds of merriment faded soothed her ragged nerves.
All evening long, she’d been acutely aware of Dilys Merimydion’s presence, almost as if there were some sort of invisible thread connecting them, tugging at her and setting her senses trembling each time he drew near.
