Talking about it drags the memory to the forefront of my brain. Asher and I saw the attack from our own carriage. He dragged me away from the window as soon as we heard the screams, then pinned me to the floor, covering me with his body. Always the protector, even then.
But the attackers never came for us. By the time a footman yanked open the door to our carriage, my mother was dead and his mother was wailing.
I have to take a steadying breath. “It was widely believed that Lady Clara conspired in the attack. She was the only one who knew of the route, the destination. The trip was spontaneous—and it wasn’t a common outing for the queen and her retinue. The attackers took nothing, not even their jewels—and one of the footmen said Lady Clara didn’t have to beg for her life. They just left her alive, while my mother was dead.”
My voice trails off, because the memories are surging now, making my chest tighten. Even when they threatened Lady Clara with execution, she didn’t defend herself.Spare my son, she said.I will confess.
And then she did.
Ky waits, but when I say nothing more, he says, “Asher was a part of this conspiracy to kill the queen?”
“No!” I shake my head fiercely. “He loved my mother. He was my closest friend, and he was just as devastated as I was. He swore he didn’t know, and I believed him. But my father declared that he couldn’t allow the son of a traitor to remain in the palace. I still don’t know if he really believed Asher was involved or if he just wanted to send a message to anyone else who might be planning an attack on the family. Either way, Lady Clara was executed, and Asher was sentenced, and then he was gone.”
I have to swallow the lump in my throat. I hate talking about thispart of my life. Within a day, I lost my mother and my best friend. The guards dragged Asher out of the palace like a criminal. I stood and watched from the parapets, sobbing the whole time—until Dane found me there and snapped at me to get myself together. He said it wouldn’t do for the servants to see the princess sobbing over a traitor.
The horse stumbles through a snowdrift, and I gasp, feeling myself slip sideways. But Ky puts an arm around my waist, holding me against him. “Steady,” he murmurs.
The weight of his arm has grown warmer, and there’s a part of me that doesn’t want him to move it. Snow continues to collect in the horse’s mane, swirling down from the darkened sky above. In another time or place, I imagine I could be content to ride along like this, secure within the circle of his arm, letting him guide the horse while we sway together.
But he betrayed my friend. He’s no better than my brother.
The thought feels hollow. I suppose I betrayed him, too.
“You were allowed to continue your friendship with Asher after this sentencing?” he says.
“No,” I say softly. “But he knows how to slip onto the palace grounds. We explored all the time as children. After he was exiled, he began to visit my chambers.” I hesitate, wondering if I’ve revealed too much. “In secret.”
“How often?”
“Whenever he can.” I swallow, thinking back, remembering the long stretches of not knowing, my worries erased in a heartbeat anytime he would appear. “Sometimes months pass, but he always finds his way back.”
“The slavers would allow this?”
“Yes, of course. He wasn’t a prisoner.”
The king is quiet for a moment, considering that. I can’t read this silence, but after a long pause, he says, “But this means youaremore than friends.”
“No!” I huff a breath. “We never—”
“Never?” The skepticism in his voice is thick. “I see the way you look at him. You just told me he slipped into your chambers foryears.”
“He didn’t sneak under myskirts.”
As I say the words, I think of Asher pulling me close, the press of him at my back despite the layers of blankets between us. He never tried for more, but I wouldn’t have stopped him if he had.
My mouth twists into a frown. “Asher wouldn’t...he wouldn’t like that.”
“He prefers the company of men?”
Ky’s voice is so frank, and my cheeks are on fire again. “Oh! I...I don’t know.” I hesitate, because I never have conversations like this with anyone. Especially not while I’m sitting in theirlap. “He just...”
My voice trails off again as I realize that Asher might tease me about someone catching his eye, but I’ve never once heard him talk about anyonereal. I think of the way Asher stiffens or pulls away when I reach for him. Even when his lip was bleeding, he jerked away.
The king waits, and for a long moment, there’s no sound except the horse’s hooves swishing through the snow.
“Asher is a gentleman,” I say firmly. “He never lets me touch him. But sometimes I wonder...I wonder if he ever letsanyonetouch him.”
My voice is so soft that the wind could carry my words away. I almost wish it would, because that also feels like a secret.
