“I’ll have to think about it,” she said. She laughed, and met his lips with a deeply passionate kiss before he could complain. “I’m jesting. Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”
He kissed her a second time, then a third, then Ser Elías and I took another step backward as he lifted her shoes off the floor and twirled her. We shared a look. When he set her down again he was serious, and right in front of me.
“You know, I was hours away from asking the Lord Commander to ship me off to Locke,” he said. “To work theferry,just to get away from you.” He smirked. “Guess you learned to say you’re sorry just in time.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’d better watch what you say to me, I am your Queen, you know?”
He beamed. “Aye, that you are, cousin.”
Willoughby took Miss Jocelyn’s hand in his. He was proud. He was happy. So was she. Elías turned, gently, reminding me of the time.
“Your Majesty,” he said. “We need to head to the cathedral now.”
I sighed, then accepted it, looming to the door. “Right. Of course.”
We left the chamber. My heels clinked loudly against the floor as we made it to the foyer. Another maid placed a new vase by the entrance on the wooden pedestal. It was smaller than the first containers, and distinctly different with its blooms. They were daisies.
“What’s this?” I asked.
I paused, collecting the note from the petals. I read it outloud.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Svana. I’m thinking of you. Sam.”
I glanced around the entry, at the vases placed everywhere–at the several dozen flowers Sam had already sent.
“I’m confused,” I said. “Why would he send another vase? He already sent all these.”
Jocelyn peered over my shoulder. She read the note a second time. Then she, too, looked around the foyer.
Then I gasped, suddenly, sharply, and devastatingly. I spun to examine all the others. Lilies. Roses.Chrysanthemums.All white. All very intentionally meaningful. The hairs on my arm stood as I realized.
“Oh!” I realized. “Oh my God,” I said. I hurried to retrieve the note from the first arrival. I had to source several vases until it was found. I read it over.
I’m sorry, my Queen.
No signature. No explanation. Nothing.
“Oh my God,” I muttered. I found Elías across the room. “These are from…Allof these are from Mr. Evergreen. I thought–” I braced myself against the wall, a hand to my stomach.
Eli caught my arm and steadied me. He leaned in, whispering. “You can do this,” he said. “You’re almost there.”
Willoughby and Jocelyn waited. Then excused themselves to the carriage. I met Elías’s eyes, my voice barely loud enough to hear, despite the privacy we’d been granted.
“I’m so scared,” I said.
“Of course you are, you’re about to change the course of Oreia–of Oreian women–forever. Fear is good. Fear is what will keep you sharp. Remember, the only time a Blade can be brave is when he is scared,” he said. He righted me, then braced my shoulders. “These flowers? They’re important. They’re proof. Proof that your swordsman loves you. Proof that he is willing to take risks to show you that. Twenty dozen roses is not a small feat. It’s expensive. It’s noticeable. It’s flashy, just like him. Use that to steel your nerves for what you must do. You’re not just saving yourself, you’re saving him, too–the ostler’s boy you’ve always wanted. He’s still in there, you know. He still needs his Queen.”
The cathedral in its dark architectural prowess appeared over the hill as our carriage approached, first giving us a glimpse of its two black spires, and the large stained glass window of its face. Across Elías I, on their own bench, Ser Willoughby held Miss Jocelyn’s hand. They exchanged longful looks and sweet smiles, whispering to each other between giggles and plans for their new estate. Their garden. Their staff. The color of the walls.
There was a large crowd our driver had to navigate through, that parted as we rolled to a stop in front of the church. Somewhere, a boy cheered for the Queen as she arrived.
Ser Willoughby looked up, catching my expression. He drew back the curtain just enough to glance through the window, then he shifted, taking his time to speak.
“We’re here, Your Majesty,” he said.
I exhaled. Then to Elías, I whispered, “It’s not enough.”
We met eyes, but neither of us expanded what that meant, ignoring the ever-crushing weight that had begun to descend upon me.
