“Punishyou?”
“Yes. For not putting the Crown first. Duty. God, of course. Miss Hellveig wouldwhipme for this blunder. I would not walk for a week.”
She soothed me, and for a few seconds we remained like that, until finally she broke the silence.
“I do not wish to overstep, but I cannot believe the Lord is so evil. If your Mr. Evergreenissuch a mirror to your Ser Willem, then maybe the comparison is not a punishmentora coincidence. Why could he not be him?”
“Be him? How could they be the same man?” I asked.
“No, I meant his role. Could he not be his replacement?”
I wiped a tear. “Men aren’t interchangeable. And I’m sure eventually I shall realize a minor inconsistency between the two and be repulsed, but for now…The truth is, every time I look at Mr. Evergreen, I fear I am, I don’t know, robbing myself of a future with my Ser Willem.”
“I’m sorry, Ser Willem is not a knight, correct?” she asked.
“What?”
“He’s the boy? The boy that’s gone? He’s not in our team. He’s not assigned to another post? He’s still a commoner, yes?”
“Yes, and?”
“Where is he?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Precisely. As a commoner, he can hide, but you do not have that luxury. You are here,” she said. “It is very public knowledge. You are the Princess. I mean this with respect, but, as you said before with Mr. Evergreen, Ser Willem knows where to find you. If he wanted to, he would.”
I clicked my tongue but could not think of a rebuttal.
“It is a man’s world, Miss Svana. A woman’s true power is in the acceptance of that fact, and in the fact that if he wanted to, he would.”
“It’s not so simple,” I said.
“It really is.”
“No, it isn’t. What if…What if he does not believe I love him?” I asked.
“Do you?”
“Yes, and I’ve written him a hundred letters declaring it,” I said.
“How many has he written you?” she asked.
“I, well, I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe he does not know I wish to speak?”
“After a hundred letters?” she asked.
“My correspondence may not have found him.”
“A hundred times?” she asked.
I scoffed.
“And his one hundred replies did not find you?” she asked.
“Not yet,” I said. “Maybe soon.”
“If he wanted to write you, he would,” she said.
