He could smile at a bird, but me he had to drive wild?
“Princess! Princess!”
A trio of small boys came running toward us, their harried mother calling after them a step behind. The smallest of the three broke ahead, a broad grin across his face. One of my guards shifted, but I waved him away, and he allowed the boy to approach.
The boy raised his hand in offering. A single daffodil rested between his small fingers, the petals stark white as snow. Behind him, a trail of them led back to his mother and brothers, having slipped from his hand in his race to reach me.
I took the flower, the beginnings of a smile tugging at my lips. “Thank you.”
His mother called for him then, and the boy flashed me another grin before rejoining her. She bowed her head, and I nodded, watching them disappear down the road.
“When you’re done entertaining the riffraff,” Ericen intoned, “I’d like to get out of this miserable heat.”
We moved on to the Caravel Wing, once home to the city’s sun crows. After Ronoch, their absence had been felt the strongest. The crows’ healing abilities had been sorely needed. Nearly half the wing was educated in the healing arts, but they hadn’t been nearly enough to help all the injured.
I ran a finger along my scars, the daffodil still clutched against my palm. A sun crow could have healed the wounds before they scarred. They could have saved Estrel. For a selfish second, I wished the egg I’d found had been a sun crow. But that wasn’t what Rhodaire needed to survive.
Aris was crumbling bit by bit, more than I had realized. Seeing it had been painful. Seeing Ericen witness it had been worse. Though that pain lingered, this time, it didn’t overwhelm me. I couldn’t stop myself from snapping at Ericen, but as I watched his proud form, head held high, riding like a conqueror surveying his prize, I found I didn’t care.
I wanted him to know that I was angry, that as close as I’d come, I had not been defeated. Rhodaire had not been defeated.
I wanted him to know I would still fight.
Seven
Once home, I washed and changed for dinner, which Caliza had condemned me to eat with Ericen. We had to keep up appearances, but I would have rather stayed hungry, even though my appetite had started to return.
As I dropped into the seat across from Ericen on the patio, the door opened, and several servants stepped out carrying plates of food. They set the dishes on the table before bowing and returning inside. I didn’t so much as look at the prince as I filled my plate.
“I can tell this is going to be a very productive meal,” he mused.
“Here’s an idea. You sit there and eat your meal, silently, and I’ll sit here and eat mine, while pretending you’re not there.”
“Is that your plan for the rest of our lives or just today?”
My face broke into a scowl. “That depends. Are you always this much of a pain in the ass?”
“Are you?”
“Only to people who deserve it.” I stabbed a piece of meat with my fork.
Ericen smiled, and a glorious silence descended. Thick enough to cut with a knife, but quiet.
Then, “Your Turren Wing reminds me of the streets around Darkward Academy in Illucia. Everyone carries a weapon, and over half the shops sell them. I graduated from there a month ago.”
I leveled a flat gaze on him. Despite all our bickering, he couldn’t seem to let the conversation die. Like we could talk as if there weren’t a dark and bloody history between our people. “What in the Saints’ name makes you think I would want to talk about anything to do with the Illucian military? Or about you for that matter?”
Ericen didn’t respond, his gaze resting briefly on my scarred arm before he turned his eyes to the garden beyond. I wanted my gloves.
Finally, he let the conversation die. I moved the steak around my plate with my fork. Once, Iyla would have nudged me with gusts of wind from where she perched on the patio railing until I tossed her a snack. Without her, without Estrel and my mother, the patio felt empty, the table too big.
The patio door opened, and servants cleared away dinner before bringing us each a slice of chocolate cake. Ericen eyed his as if it might bite him.
“What? Is our dessert not good enough for you either?”
“We didn’t have sweets at Darkward.”
“That explains a lot.”
