But someone had given him that scarred eye. Who? Who would have been close enough to do such a thing? Who would have dared? Who would he not have raised a hand against until it was too late?
Or it could have been from a sparring accident, or in some battle, Jocasta thought, as she spent the day studying her husband-to-be as much as she spent studying the scrolls and notes about their guests.
He had parts that were so open, like his raw commentary about stuffed shirt merchants who had worked their way into noble families by marriage and services rendered to his father or his father’s court, his delight when talking about his mother, his exasperated, grudging affection for Cole, and his dread of Lady Renata trying to cozy up to him. Then there were parts that seemed to contradict this boldness, a fear and mystery that she didn’t think fit. Moments where he went quiet. Moments where he paced and talked with his back to her, always when delivering bad news, as if afraid to see her angry or upset.
It was during one of these moments that she went to his side and stared out at the carefully preserved grove of pinessurrounding the lake. Slipped her shoulder near his arm, letting herself feel just how much larger he was when compared to her.
“Do you think I can impress them enough?” she finally asked.
He smiled, and his hand found hers. “You do not need to. You have impressed me.”
A puzzle, an open book that most would struggle to read.
Jocasta decided that she liked her prospective husband, and she allowed her head, aching from hours of peering at ink on paper, to rest against him.
Chapter Seven
He couldn’t sleep. Days of studying with her. Eating with her. Finding her charming and artless with him, and charming and artful with others. She knew how much or how little to say to keep up the pretense that she belonged in the elite circles where she had never set foot before. She looked like a beautiful brown seal in her new dresses, sleek and angelic—and then they would shed their attendants and guests, and her tongue would fly free, her hair would cascade out of whatever formal style Letty and Laren had forced it into, and he would have to yank his eyes from her by force.
Who said she was no great beauty? Did someone say that? They should sell their eyes for marbles; they would be of more use!
In a way, the beauty that rough work and durable clothing had hidden was a godsend. People would assume he chose her for her beauty, as well as her magic. She made Renata look like a snow statue, so fragile and frigid. Jocasta sent warmth spiraling into every room.
He said as much to Cole the morning before the ball. “It is warmer whenever she is near, have you noticed?”
Cole looked at him, saying nothing.
“When Jocasta enters a place, it warms at once!” Girion persisted, feeling the knots of nerves in his stomach undo as Jocasta hurried past, following the Master of the Wardrobe and trailed by her servants, the two winter hare shifters known for their grace, speed, and cunning.
“I think that might be just the effect she has on you, sire,” Cole whispered.
“I think her magic is already working through the palace.”
“Maybe. It hasn’t worked through the kingdom yet. I hear that Port Hebron delayed shipments yesterday. The ice was too thick to cut the ships free. They are sending for fire mages from other kingdoms.”
“Well, they will have no need by this time next week. She will have joined the house of Caledon,” Girion whispered, eyes trailing her. “Where is Nalar taking her to in such a hurry?”
“The ballroom. You’re supposed to meet her there.”
“I am?”
“You said, and I quote, ‘I will put off dancing until it is entirely necessary.’ Your guests are already in the city. Some will be here tonight, some tomorrow morning. You don’t want the first time you dance with Jocasta to be in front of a hundred staring eyes, do you?”
“It’s only sixty,” he grumbled.
“It’s sixty guests, plus all the servants, the guards, the guests’ personal valets and attendants... It’s at least 120 eyes if you want to be difficult about it, sire. That only includes the guests. Now, if we count the servants, let’s see...”
Girion said nothing. “I don’t want people staring at us while we practice.”
Cole nodded and sighed. “Funny, isn’t it? Even being a king doesn’t spare you from lessons.”
Girion growled and made a mental note to go kill something in the woods later.
SHE MOVED VERY GRACEFULLY. Girion watched Jocasta in the arms of Idry, the reindeer shifter whose mother had been a doe from the Spring Kingdoms. He carried some of her lightness, and he passed it to Jocasta.
Far too easily.
Making her giggle and throw her head back, showing her how to whirl in big sweeping motions, hands open and out, and then back to him.
