“Is there anything else?” he asked.
“No.”
“Grand.” He turned toward our knight. “You’ll keep her out of trouble,” he said, receiving a devout nod. “Then on with it. I need to revisit some of these disputes.” I was half across the threshold when he added, “Svana. You travel as my heir but in myname. I expect you to adhere tomydecorum. Don’t stop in minor towns. Don’t frolic in markets, don’t talk to strangers, and byGod,be weary of bandits and pickpockets. You stand out at all times.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I said.
“And stay near Elías. Do not wander. Do not dupe him.”
“Of course,” I said, but I had barely heard the complaint over my brain’s.
It had plans to execute—things to discover. There were days between Chalke and Oreia. The further I went, the shorter my father’s reach, and with every mile came shops and faces I’d never seen before and would never see again. I was on my way to meet my husband, the Prince, and once we were married, once the end of summer had come for me, my life would change forever thanks to him– toduty.
Chapter 2
Light from the lantern flickered over Ser Elías’s sharp jaw. He looked out the window with a frown. The night fell much later in Chalke than back home. Though it was likely the natural bumps and thrashing of the road, three days in a coach had killed the romantic lure of travel, perhaps forever.
Josie slept, leaned against the door while my stomach did somersaults. I watched her rest, noting that she was nothing like the crone she had replaced. At least physically. I hardly knew her personality, but the maid before was stout and brunette—darker than my hair, and she was rude at almost all the hours of the day. She never gave a good remark about anyone but not Josie. Josie complimented everyone. She came with a glowing recommendation and was well-liked by her previous lady— at least that’s what Father said. Like all his servants, she was highly recommended.
Across the carriage, Ser Willoughby read. His eyes left the page long enough to graze over Jocelyn’s amber braid and then her face, and then they caught me staring. He returned to the book.
“What should I expect on my wedding night?” I asked.
The question startled him out of his chapter. It startled Elías from his reverie, disrupting whatever peace he’d had.
Willoughby did not answer, and Eli went through possibly every emotion before settling on a hasty, “I beg your pardon, Princess?”
“My wedding night,” I said slower. “What sort ofbehavioris expected of me as a wife?”
Willoughby tried not to stir from his bench, but he gripped the corner of his page a little too tightly to go unnoticed, then flipped it.
“Why must you askmethat?” said Elías. “Wake Jocelyn. She will be happy to explain the–”
“I don’t want to.”
“A woman is more qualified to explain the?—”
“I don’t want awoman’sanswer,” I said. “And I didn’t ask you. I asked Ser Willoughby.”
“I couldn’t say,” Willoughby replied. He didn’t look up. “I’ve never had a wife before.”
Elías donned a boastful glance.
I lowered my voice. “Miss Josie will say the same things I’ve heard before. Things maids are told to tell their ladies. I asked a man because I wanted a man’s response.”
Elías returned to the passing scenery.
“And Josie,” I went on. “First of all, I don’t know her, and second of all, she’sbarelyolder than I am if she is, and anyway, she’s unwed. Do you think she is very qualified to answer such questions?”
“By your logic, no one in this carriage is qualified,”Willoughby quipped.
Elías grinned. I rolled my eyes.
“Quiet, cousin,” I said.
“Of course, Your Highness,” he said.
“Elías,” I waited. “Elías.”
