“Do you know what a Rusted Blade is?” he asked.
“Cyrus,”I said.“I don’t care about my cousin’s sword right now. I care about you. I care about this. I want to keepridingwith you. Do you… Do you wish to ridewithme?”
“I…” He hesitated.“Sam is my friend.”
“Sam,” I repeated. “Samencouragedour riding so that he could remain preoccupied elsewhere.”
“Riding. Actual riding. He’s my friend, Svana,” he said.
“As you said,andas his friend, you know he’s not interested in me,” I told him. “Magical, nonsensical churchly curses or not,thatis the truth. When I asked him to abandon his tryst, he made it perfectly clear he had no intention of doing that. Do you think some wives' tales will alter what it is he wants? Who he wants?”
“It’s not the blessing that’s the interference. You’reengagedto him,” he said.
“He’s engaged tome!”I hissed. “Do you scold His Highness for his devotion to Miss Agatha?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” he said.
“Oh.”
“Aye. I’ve always disapproved of their entanglement. I’ve always known that it would hurt you. Does that hoof feel nice in your mouth now, Princess?”
I paused. “Well, the point is, your friend doesn’t want me. I know that and so do you. And I know that, this, whatever it is between us, is new and perhaps fleeting, but… It’s not all bad, is it? Must you hate me for wanting but a moment longer with a man whodoesactually want me?”
Cyrus exhaled.
“Youdodon’t you? Want me?” I asked. When he didn’t answer, I sighed. “It… It doesn’t have to mean anything,” I tried, drawing from his words. “We're just two people.”
At his silence, I turned, but he caught my sleeve.
“Svana,” he said, quietly. “I do. I do want you.”
Josie eased from her daze, vocally interrupting mine. Evergreen let go. She hummed, smoothing her dress, then called, “Your mercy, Princess,” in a way that nearly buzzed her voice. “Sorry. Are you ready then?”
I felt my pulse at every point. I could not break from Mr. Evergreen’s sullen eyes. “I’m in no hurry, Jo.”
She smiled at the name. I met my gaze on Ser Willoughby, then back to her.
“Doesn’t Miss Jocelyn look beautiful today, cousin?” I asked.
“Oh, I…” He vocally stumbled, resorting to an almost too-easy nod. “Yes. She does,” he said. “Although Miss Jocelyn looks beautiful every day.”
She blushed.
“Pray, Ser…” Something deviant sprouted in my mind. “Do you think Ser Elías would mind if we brought her with us tomorrow?” I asked. “I think it would be so splendid to add another woman, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he said. He stopped to consider it. “No. I meant, yes, it would be splendid. Of course, Ser Elías wouldn’t mind. The more the merrier, he’d say.”
“Oh,” Josie began. “Oh, that’s really not necessary.”
I smiled regardless. “No, I think it is quite necessary and quite delightful. Oo! We could have a picnic!” I declared. “Like the one Mr. Evergreen and I had that you two covered for.” I looked for the mentioned’s approval; it was semi-defiant but waiting, too.
“A picnic?” Willoughby asked.
“Yes. You might as well experience the fun you lied about, Ser, right? What say you, Mr. Evergreen?” I asked. “Fancy conjuring us more cheese?”
Hetriedto hide the mischief brewed at the corners of his grin, but I saw it. Ifeltit there.
“Aye. A picnic would be splendid, Your Highness.Dangerouslysplendid but sure, I can find you more cheese.”
