“Why do I do what?” Lark leaned on her elbows, wishing the bench had a backrest.
“Mix up all your food like it was hit by a tornado?” Skye pointed at a small mound of mashed potatoes, beans, and brisket.
“It all ends up in the same place,” she reasoned. “Besides, if there’s something on the plate I don’t like, I can stomach it when it’s disguised in everything else.”
Skye shrugged.
“Maybe I’ll try that,” said a boy’s voice behind her.
Lark twisted on her bench to spy the young prince with an abundance of brown curls flopping around an angelic face. She’d been stealing glances toward Queen Frost’s table all morning, and had noticed this one sitting beside her. She’d known the widowed queen had two sons; she just hadn’t pictured her as a mother until today. Watching her with them and her own older mother had shown Lark a different side of Frost. She might have sat among three powerful nobles, but her attention stayed fixed on her family.
“You should,” Lark answered him with a know-it-all grin. “Then you won’t get in trouble for not eating your broccoli.” He giggled. Lark immediately felt a connection with the boy who couldn’t take his eyes off her. “I’m Lark.” She extended a hand, which he heartily shook.
“I’m Caelen—Caelen Frost. My mom’s the queen. My brother will be king someday, so I’m the one who gets to have fun while he practices diplomacy.” He rolled his eyes.
“Well, diplomacy and having fun are both important pursuits.”
Caelen bit his lip, flicking a glance to the top of her head. He rocked on his feet, scrunched his shoulders, and asked, “Can I touch it? Your hair, I mean. I’ve never seen a woman with a cut like that, and it would be weird for me to touch a man’s hair.”
Amused and already charmed by the boy, Lark swung around to face him. “Weird, huh? Who told you it would be weird to touch a man’s hair?” He shrugged, stuffing his hands into his shorts pockets. “Sure, go ahead. I don’t mind.”
The lad stepped closer and reached out, his fingers exploring her sporty style.
“The sides are bristly, but the top’s soft and fluffy,” Caelen marveled. “Maybe I’ll ask Mom if I can get mine cut like this.”
“I don’t know,” Lark said as he reluctantly withdrew his hand. “If I had luscious curls like yours, I’d want to keep them. This is a military cut—sort of. It helps me shoot if I don’t have hair hanging in my face.”
“Yeah, I guess.” His eyes lit again, even brighter. “Mom said you can run up walls and do flips. Can you really?”
Lark’s heart leaped.She thinks about me? She talked about me to her children?Her face glowed as bright as Caelen’s.
“I can.”
Skye, Diego, Luke, and Wes continued their tales without her. The drum corps had stopped, replaced by a woman playing a guitar, warbling out a folk song. A fresh wave of smoked meat and tangy sauce touched her nose, yet all she wanted to do was spend time with Caelen.
“Wow, that’s jacked! Will you show me?” The boy practically burst with excitement. What was Lark to do?
She glanced around, spotted a shed by the treeline—looked to be three meters high. That would do. “I suppose, sure. As long as nobody tells me I can’t.” Hopping from the bench, she pointed at the shed. “How about over there?”
“Yeah,” Caelen said. “I’ll race ya!”
With a laugh, Lark jogged after him, careful to stay one step behind. Caelen slammed on the brakes just before plowing into the shed’s plank wall. Panting for air, he peered up at her. “You let me win. I know because your legs are long and you’re on the elite team. That means you do everything better than the regular soldiers.”
“Not everything,” Lark corrected. “I was saving energy for the wall. Ready?”
“Ready!” Caelen stepped back, giving her room, his gaze glued to her, his hands balled into nervous fists. Rocking from foot to foot, he sucked in a breath.
Lark planted her right foot, gauged the distance, rocked once, twice, then drove forward. Three powerful strides to the wall, then one step, two, three up the side, finishing in a back flip, landing light as a gymnast—knees bent, form perfect.
“Wow, jacked!” He bounded up to her, quick as a rabbit with its tail on fire. “Again! Can you go higher?”
“I can go a step higher if I start farther back, and round off with a twist flip,” Lark answered casually, as if it was no big deal.
“Do it, do it!” As Caelen shouted, several more children gathered around—a couple of parents too. Lark performed the four-step-twisting-flip with only a slight adjustment needed on the landing.
“How’d you learn to do that?” exclaimed a little girl around Caelen’s size.
Lark laughed. “With an old foam mattress and a lot of falls. It’s all speed, momentum, and commitment.”
