He sighed, though cheerfully, and inclined his head. “Ser Elías might have a few concerns,” he said.
“Well, personally, I think the Lord Commander kind of owes me a favor. Don’t you?” I asked. “I don’t think he would darequestion it. And, if anyone would attest to your deservingness, it would be him.”
“I think I am already your Knight,”he said. “I don’t need a title to know it.”
I deflated but he kissed me. Softly. At the corner of my lips.
He said, “I will see you as soon as the sun has risen.”
“How?” I asked.
“Conjure an excuse; I’ve no doubt you can.”
“I don’t want to go,” I said.
He touched my cheek. “Swan, they cannot find this.Us.”His hand strayed to the small of my back, drawing me closer. “This will beverydifficult to explain when someone walks in.”
“Is it the sword?” I asked. I pressed its tip into the floor.
“It’s the kissing,” he said, daring his lips to my shoulder. “And the touching. And the moaning. And the wanting and the needing.”
I groaned, rolling my eyes. “I hate that you’re right.”
“Lucky for you, these moments come so rarely,” he quipped.
My shoulders dropped as I went toward the door. “...Will you dream of me again?” I asked.
“I dream of you every night, my Swan. Now go. Get some rest.”
“Good night… Ser Willem.”
He smiled. “Good night, Princess.”
Cyrus and I saw each other later that day, and again the next, and the next, and though his injury kept us from forming adeeperconnection, the way his body had felt beneath my hand never quite left my thoughts.
I thought about his hardness in the bath; I thought about it in the garden. I thought about it when I spoke to Ser Willoughby, and when Sameer asked me if I had submitted my design to Miss Lydia.
“What?”I asked, shaken from my day dreams. “What design?”
He wove his arms. “Your dress, Svana. Your wedding dress?” He studied me. “Are you alright? You seem distracted.”
The Prince and I stopped walking in the yard. I shrugged, then nodded, dismissively, but from where I stood, I could see Cyrus try to swing his blade with a crude wince.
I said, “I’ve only thought about the Chapel, Your Highness. I haven’t submitted a design. I thought I would just…leave it in her hands.”
He shook his head. He looked at what I looked at, then did a double take. “God. You know, I did tell him to go easy but I don’t think the man can help himself. Masochist. He is defined by the sword; it’s a perpetual misery of his own making.”
“That sword got him here,” I said, remembering his words. He’dworkedto get to me. “He’s a glutton though, I’ll agree.”
Sam grinned. “Shall we scold him?” he asked, delighted. “He might listen to you. You know, he had some very nice things to say about you last night. I think he’s coming around, love. My dream of you being friends draws ever near.”
“Right, friends,” I said.
As we approached, Cyrus saw us right away. He took a break, resting his hand to his waist, the other held the pommel like a walking stick.
“Sam,” he said, breathing. “Svana,” he said, softer. “What do I owe the pleasure?”
My eyes found his, and I knew they gave me away. Cyrus met them, and somehow, we shared a private, silent dialogue that tempted us both.
