Briony releases my hand. The dreamscape melts away, and I find myself blinking into the light of the train compartment. She sits angled slightly away from me, her gaze fixed out the window like it was before the daydream.
I retrieve my broadsheets and hide behind them with what I intend to be a relieved sigh. Against my will, it turns wistful, the warmth of Briony’s momentary touch still pulsing inside my palm.
22
BRIONY
There’s only one word I can use to describe the Earthen Court: lush. No matter which window of the coach I peer out of, verdant hills span all around, a majestic backdrop to the busy city streets of Jasper. Even the architecture is a sight to behold, with elegant stonework, storefronts draped in trailing vines, and sidewalks edged with topiaries, tiny trees, and shrubs. I feel like a child as I take in every sight, my nose nearly pressed to the coach window.
“Sandalwood Manor is located in the Sagemoss District,” Thorne says, “which is just a few minutes from downtown Jasper, which is where we are now.”
I acknowledge him with an affirmative sound but nothing else. After what he told me yesterday, I can’t help feeling awkward around him. He saw me cry. He saw me looking weak. Even though he said he hadn’t meant to make me pity him, I did, and I admitted as much to his face. Worse than that was what happened after he said those unexpected words to me:I’d rather you weren’t my enemy.
He said it with such grief, such regret, that I believed him. I believed him so much that I shook his damn hand and called him my false friend. Why did I do that? Why did I touch him? I regretted my actions when he immediately drew up his broadsheets with impressive haste. He’s hardly looked at me since. Or maybe I haven’t looked at him.
The storefronts give way to elegant brick townhouses, then to larger manors. My heart lurches, and my awe over our surroundings melts into a bubbling cauldron of anxiety. I pat the sides of my hair, which Minka styled for me this morning, then adjust the brim of my hat. It was one of the few purchases I made in Gibbous Peak while staking out Thorne’s bakery. There was a milliner just down the street with a hat on display that so perfectly matched the outfit Sister Marsh gifted me.
“You look lovely, Highness,” Minka says, picking up on my fidgeting. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Phillips fell in love with you at first sight.”
My stomach turns. What kind of idiot would fall in love at first sight? I’ve fallen into lust at first sight—with Thorne, regretfully—but I certainly don’t need love or lust from my fiancé. Our match is a political one. A necessity. A salvation for my family in more ways than one.
And yet I’m overcome with a sudden spike of self-consciousness. Though I’m quite proud of my new hat, I’ve been wearing the same ensemble for days. I didn’t dare bring more than what I already own on our journey and left all the gauzy dresses stuffed in my wardrobe at Nocturnus Palace behind. Considering all those gowns were of the far more provocative fae style, I figured they would do more harm than good, for I highly doubt a peek at my bodily assets beneath the sheer silks would impress my human in-laws. But with our hasty travel plans taking precedence, I haven’t had a chance to set foot inside a dressmaker’s. My current outfit will have to do for a first meeting.
Shifting away from the window, I force myself to look at Thorne. I nearly choke on my own breath as I find his eyes already on me. “Remember the terms of our bargain,” I rush to say.
He narrows his eyes. “I recall them just fine.”
“You must do all the lying,” I say, ignoring his last statement. “Cast me and my family in a favorable light. Do everything you can to ensure my wedding to Mr. Phillips ensues on schedule.”
“I know, Miss Rose.”
Mr. Boris whips his face toward Thorne. My butler is in his seelie form today, his russet hair brushed back from his forehead to reveal the pointed tips of his ears, his slim mustache twitching as he bares his teeth, canines as sharp as they are in his vulpine form. “You should get used to calling herHighness.”
Thorne shows no sign of intimidation. “I seem to recall the princess insisting I don’t.”
Mr. Boris looks to me.
I lift my chin. “You should address me properly in any situation where formalities are expected, Mr. Blackwood. But in casual situations, you may call me Miss Rose, as I’ve requested. It remains the name I prefer most, as it blends my two identities. I’ll even allow my fiancé to call me Miss Rose, as it will be a name that denotes familiarity.”
Thorne arches a brow. “So you want us to appear…familiar? Even in front of your fiancé?”
A blush creeps up my cheeks. “We should appear to have become cordially acquainted. As allies in this bargain, we’ll need to spend time together and communicate without going through secret means. So, yes, Mr. Blackwood, you may call me Miss Rose even in front of Mr. Phillips.”
Minka’s amber eyes brighten, her fluffy white ears perking up. “Can I call you Miss Rose too?”
“No,” Mr. Boris says. “You will call herHighness,Princess, ormy lady.”
“It’s really all right,” I say. “I understand most fae aren’t as particular about honorifics as humans are. We’ll need to show my in-laws that we maintain the expected formalities, but the two of you may call me whatever you wish outside of those events.”
“Highness,” Mr. Boris says at the same time Minka says, “Miss Rose!”
I nod. “Yes, those are both fine.”
“We’re here,” Thorne says, and my pulse kicks up.
I turn my gaze back out the window just in time to see our coach pull into a gated driveway. Tall trees and perfectly kept shrubs line the property, creating ample privacy despite being so close to neighboring manors. As we proceed, I catch my first sight of Sandalwood Manor. It’s only a fraction of the size of Nocturnus Palace, but it’s a gorgeous building nonetheless. Red brick contrasts elegant white columns, cornices, and window casings. It boasts several balconies and one charming turret.
“Miss Rose!” Minka says with a squeal. “This will be your home!”
