The queen’s tone turned sharper. “I’d have preferred it if you’d picked something far easier and hadn’t delayed the Heart’s Hunt for a week. But I can’t blame you for being a romantic. You always were.”
Mareleau wanted to gag. Seven gods, her parents didn’t know her at all. She wasn’t a romantic. She simply wanted freedom from cold courtships, from groping hands and loveless declarations. She wanted to be respected as heir to her throne without needing to marry. Was that so much to ask? At the very least, she wanted to avoid marrying Larylis’ brother. If it ever came down to a forced alliance, she could handle marrying just about anyone but Teryn.
Despite how much she’d hardened her heart after Larylis had shattered it, she would never be able to reconcile living in the same palace as him, dining at the same table, bearing his brother’s children while the boy she preferred—
Fiery rage bubbled inside her, but she forced it down. Right now, there were more pressing concerns to worry over.
If Uncle Kevan hadn’t been lying, if unicorns truly had returned from extinction…
That meant her suitors might successfully complete the task she gave them.
And she’d promised to marry whoever did first.
The thought made her want to crawl out of her skin. At least she had one small comfort. For the time being, no matter how short it might be, she was free.
12
Just before midnight, Teryn made his way to the palace garden. The evening’s festivities were still underway, so no one paid him much heed as he slipped through the halls, past the bustling ballroom, and out to the garden courtyard. From there, he began navigating the twists and turns of the walking paths flanked by elegantly manicured shrubs and flower beds. He came to the first statue along the path, but it was a marble likeness of King Verdian, not a busty water nymph. He chose another branching path, discovered a few more statues, but none resembling the description in the letter.
The deeper he went into the garden, the more wary he began to feel over the possible intentions behind this meeting. Nearly every twist and turn brought him stumbling upon lovers stealing covert kisses, couples locked in passionate embraces meant only to be witnessed by shadows. He supposed he shouldn’t have expected less on Beltane.
Teryn reached a portion of the garden boasting impressive water features—ponds and fountains as well as several artistic arrangements utilizing pumps and pulleys that almost seemed like magic. The sculptures here looked far more like water nymphs than the previous ones had. And yet, there wasn’t much to distinguish the characteristics of one statue from another, nor was there any sign of someone waiting for him. Not until he entered a quiet courtyard with an enormous fountain standing at its center. Only now did Teryn understand the emphasis on ample breasts in his letter, for the figure atop the fountain was heavily endowed indeed, plus a rounded swell of belly and curved hips. Even more telling was the hooded figure standing before it, back facing him.
Teryn took a few tentative steps forward, but the figure didn’t seem to notice his approach. He stepped closer again and realized the rush of the fountain was likely drowning out the sound of his steps. With a deep breath, he closed the remaining distance and placed his hand on the figure’s shoulder.
The figure lurched back and whirled around, revealing a man several inches shorter than himself dressed in plain black clothing and a rather conspicuous cloak.
Teryn blinked a few times to ensure he was seeing whom he thought he was. “Prince…Lexington?”
“Seven gods and demons,” the man cursed, clutching his chest. Prince Lexington was one of the three champions Teryn was competing against in the Heart’s Hunt. Which meant he couldn’t have been the one to send him the letter.
Could he?
Lexington let out a low whistle. “You scared me half to death.” His eyes flicked from Teryn’s face to his brocade waistcoat and formal jacket. “You don’t look incognito.”
Wait, did that mean…
Teryn kept his voice neutral as he said, “Your letter didn’t say I should.”
Lexington shrugged, confirming that he, in fact, was the letter’s mysterious sender. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter, so long as I can say what I came here to say.”
Teryn stood tall and crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes with suspicion. If they were to be competitors, he assumed this meeting wasn’t going to be a friendly one. “What exactly did you come here to say, Prince Lexington?”
“First of all,” he said, raising a finger, “call me Lex. I despise the name Lexington. Second of all…” He cast his gaze around the small courtyard and motioned Teryn closer to the fountain. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he continued. “I’ll make this quick. I’m here to offer you an alliance to help you win the Heart’s Hunt.”
Teryn tilted his head back. “Why the hell would you help me? We’re supposed to be adversaries.”
“How can we be adversaries when we both want the same thing?”
Teryn narrowed his eyes again. “Are you telling me you want me to win? Why?”
“Because you’re going to let my kingdom in on your trade agreement with Brushwold.”
“Our trade agreement is exclusive.” He did not add that—before the Bank of Cartha had started sending pirates—it was the only thing keeping his kingdom afloat. Brushwold was a small country but had something no one else had—Aromir goats. The animals produced the most coveted wool, famed for both its warmth and softness. Since Teryn’s kingdom specialized in clothing manufacture, the trade alliance had been a natural one. Anyone on this side of the Balma Sea who wanted Aromir wool had to purchase it from Menah. It had been just enough for Teryn’s kingdom to get by. Until Menah stopped receiving Brushwold’s shipments, that is. And if they started sharing that trade…
Teryn nearly blurted out anountil he considered an alternate perspective.
If Teryn won the Heart’s Hunt and secured his marriage to the Princess of Selay, Menah would have Mareleau’s dowry. His kingdom could finally pay off their debts to the Bank of Cartha and turn their financial situation around.
