I blink at her a few times, my love-addled brain struck dumb. Then I realize what she’s referring to. I lift the ribbon and drape it over the crown of her head, bringing the ends to the nape of her neck. There I knot a bow to hang beneath the ends of her short tresses.
I bring my lips next to her ear. “There you go, Your Highness.”
An affronted gasp bursts from her lips, and she turns to playfully swat my chest. “Did I not tell you once before never to call me that?”
“You are a princess.”
“On technicality alone,” she says, tone light. “I wouldn’t be a royal at all if my father hadn’t insisted.” Her expression flickers for only a moment, her scent dipping with a note of grief before it brightens once more. “And it’s not like you’ve ever treated me like one before.”
“No?” I ask, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her into me. “Did I not serve you well last night? And this morning?”
She tilts her chin, eyes locking onto mine. “I suppose you did, but…” She wriggles against me, pressing into the part of me that burns for more of her. “Maybe you should serve me again before we return to the manor. Just to be sure you’re doing a proper job.”
I try to stifle a groan, but it comes out like a growl nonetheless. “You’re insatiable.”
She wraps her hands behind my neck. “To think the other night you suspected I was merely acting out of some strange side effect of Crimson Malus withdrawal. Do you see the error of your ways now?”
“I do. But as much as I want to service you all day,” I plant a nipping kiss on the tip of her nose, “we do have a mission.”
She sighs. “You’re right. A rather life-or-death one.”
I step back from her, an almost painful thing, and offer her my hand instead. She takes it and we finally drag ourselves away from the sanctity of our grove.
“The cerapis sprites are gone,” she notes, glancing back at the trees.
“They’re nocturnal.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Do you think they…watched us?”
“I’m sure they did,” I say with a chuckle. “But while they are fae creatures, cerapis sprites are prone to living more like insects than anything else. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen one speak or take seelie form.”
Her scent dips with a note of mild panic. “I hope the kittens are all right. We left them alone since yesterday.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine. I left them plenty of food, fresh dirt for their waste box. If that wasn’t enough, I’m sure at least Mama Cat has already found a way out of the manor to feast on all the birds and rats she could want.”
The manor comes into view now, beyond the overgrown shrubs and the expanse of unkempt berry crops that sprawl out before us. I breathe deeply, seeking any sign of trespassers like I do every morning. With Astrid at my side, it’s a struggle to focus on any other aroma but hers. Her fragrance is so distracting, in fact, that I nearly miss the family of deer grazing at the edge of the berry field until we’re nearly upon them. I wonder if it’s the same family I frightened away a few days ago.
I pull up short, so as not to startle them again, and whisper to Astrid, “Look.”
She follows my line of sight, then all but squeals at the sight of the doe and her two little fawns. “They’re adorable,” she says in a high-pitched whisper. “I want to pet their little faces so hard.”
My chest rumbles with laughter. “Better not.”
“You never let me have any fun,” she says, tone light with jest. “Do you always get such adorable wildlife on your property?”
I nod. “Bunnies, mostly. Deer quite often. And then some fae creatures too like the cerapis sprites. I even glimpsed a kelpie here the other day.”
She pulls her head back. “A kelpie.”
“It darted away as soon as it saw me.”
Her eyes grow distant, and a shudder runs through her. “I met a kelpie once. They’re frightening creatures, aren’t they?”
I shrug. “Only if you agree to ride on their backs.”
We proceed through the field, giving the deer plenty of space so as not to disturb their morning meal. Astrid stares wistfully at them until they’re out of view.
When we reach the shrubs that skirt the manor, she asks, “What do you want to do? Once you’re free?”
