“Nobodylikes your father,” he said. “He’s a real ass!”
I gasped another time.
“You should ask your precious Sameerwhy he is always so busy the days the King arrives.” His shoulders relaxed, and I could see he felt bad for what he’d said. “Your Highness, I–” he started.
“Two things, Lord Evergreen. One. I agree with you. My father is an…anass,” I whispered. “And two. Two is, I’m not him. I would prefer that you did not make that mistake again.”
We stood in a stalemate. “Which mistake?” he asked. “That you aren’t your father? A pair of eyes can make that conclusion fine.”
“What? You don’t find my father so fair?” I asked.
“No.” His shoulders danced.
“I am warning you; I can only forgive so much, and you are skating on very thin ice with your low opinion of me,” I said.
“Oh, you think I think lowly of you?” he asked.
“I know you do!”
“I only think thatyouthink entirely toohighof yourself, is all,” he said.
“I’m the Queen; I am as high as it goes!”
“You’re not Queen yet; you’re just–”
“Just what?” I asked. “Whatever it is my father did to you; however it is he offended you or your somebody-father, what was it? Did he raise your taxes? Did he close your favoritesword…sword store.…?” I sucked in too much air. “Well, I don’t apologize!”
“You don’t apologize?” he asked so dumbfoundedly that he laughed a couple of times.
“No. I don’t. Why would I? It wasn’tmypen that signed off on anything. So…Do be kind enough to shield me from yourcriticism, will you? At least until Iamon the throne. And then still, because honestly-“ I felt tears swell up into my eyes, and then I tried to swallow them into my core so that he would not see me weak.
“What?”He waited for some glorious explanation.“What are you talking about, woman?”
“You! Here! An Oreian swordsman,obviouslyone of our better ones, serving the Crowned Prince of Chalke. You’ve masked your accent. You openly criticize your King! Youavoidhis daughter and-!”
“I don’t avoid you, and I’ve donenoneof that!” He paused the moment he stepped closer, and I flinched. Cyrus collected himself enough to begin with a softer voice. “Your Highness… I have been here since I was a young man. I have no accent to mask, and frankly, I don’t understand what this argument is meant to accomplish. Why are you yelling at me? Why did you even pick this fight? Why did you chase me out here like an animal?”
My confessioncracked.“I don’t like him, you know?” I was so mad he saw how upset I was. I threw my eyes to the corner of the room to quell them.
“Sameer?” he asked.
“What?” I spat. “No! My father.” l was suddenly aware of the scene we could have made, but by the grace of God, no one was around, save for a few birds passing overhead.
“Of course I like Sameer,” I said.
“You don’t like your father?” he asked, but then he said, “And you think I care?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” I replied. “I agreed with your…”
The lord was just as silent as I was; my words had lost their trajectory. His face contorted in ways I’d never seen another person make at me, and then he moaned.
He said, “You are too kind to monopolizemytime so close to your evening plans. Go. Dance. Have fun, and by God, leave me alone.”
I bristled. “I’m only trying to be friendly, Lord Evergreen.”
“Oh, yes, so friendly,” he said. “Yelling at me and such.”
“I am, my lord,” I said. “I truly am. If we’re to cross paths tonight, we cannot be–”
