“Um—” He folded her hand between his again when she put it back. “I’ve heard of it. It happens every year, but some years, it makes any statement a magical vow? Or something like that.”
“It was one of the vow years, and my sisters were planning how to get Prince Frank to agree to a betrothal during the ball.” She made a small, pained noise. “But I didn’t think it was really fair for him to be tricked into marrying her if it wasn’t his idea—”
“Because you are very intelligent,” Mitch inserted, as he lifted her hands and placed a quick kiss on her knuckles.
The darkness hid the blush that he suspected, and she plowed on after a brief stutter. “—S-so I told him what they were planning, and he was able to confirm it somehow.” Her voice smoothed out as she spoke. “So he didn’t escort Cindy to the ball, but she went anyway, and stuff happened so she married Prince Charming instead.”
Mitch bit the inside of his cheek to keep from sharing aloud the sentiment that the Stones had failed successfully.
“Then Prince Frank let them know thatIhad told him everything, and nobody was very happy.”
Well, well. Ol’ Frank isn’t that perfect, after all.
“For days—no, weeks after that,” Tasia continued, unaware of Mitch’s uncharitable thought, “my mother and sisters explained to me, in great detail, how badly I messed up.” A wince hunched her shoulders. “I might be good with small children, but I don’t understand the nuance necessary for navigating high society. Apparently,allthe nobles play these games. It’s expected. I’m just too dumb to realize I’m too dumb to play them.”
Tasia pulled back her hands, looking utterly despondent. She rubbed one hand up and down the other arm and stared at the floor, refusing to make eye contact.
Mitch knew he needed to tread with great care. After a minute of contemplation, he approached it from the side. “Did—ordoyou have many friends amongst the nobility?”
Confusion creased her face, more visible at the moment as the clouds thinned. Then she looked directly at him. “We mostly spent time with the lowest level of nobles. But yes, I had friends.”
“Close friends?”
She flinched, and he regretted asking. “I thought so. But nobody answered my letters after I messed up.”
“Your letters?” he questioned. “Didn’t you see them in person?”
“Oh, no. Mother was so ashamed of my behavior, she wouldn’t let me leave the house.”
A suspicion sparked in his mind. “From what you’ve told me, your mother sounds . . . pretty crafty. Is it at all possible that she intercepted your letters?”
Another frown creased her brow; then a pained sort of hope cleared it. “Are you saying they didn’t abandon me?”
He shrugged, unable to make unequivocal statements about folks he didn’t know. “Well. Are your friends the sort of peoplewho play those games? If you were unaware of them, maybe it’s because your friendsdon’tbehave that way. Which would mean that not everyone plays them.” Mitch watched her even more intently as he added the next part. “Maybe your mother and sisters misled you.”
Several emotions fought for dominance in Tasia’s face and posture. “I would love to think that my friends still like me. But I would hate for that to mean that my mother doesn’t. Do you think they miss me?”
“Your friends?”
Tasia spoke over his reply, rubbing both arms and talking more to herself than to him. “I mean, I haven’t missed them that much, apart from Gus. I thought I was just a terrible person. Who doesn’t miss their own family? But—” She cut off the unsteady flow of words and looked at him.
“But what if some part of you knew that they didn’t care for you the same way, and you were just protecting yourself?” Mitch finished for her in a slow voice.
She nodded—a lethargic, jerky movement that tore at his heart.
“Well,” he started after a brief pause to scramble for words. “More proof that you aren’t dumb.”
Her answering laugh was tinged with tears. Apprehensive about a full-blown sobfest, Mitch tried to head off the storm by offering hope. “Maybe the prince can help you get in touch with your friends.”
This proved to be the wrong thing to say, as she lost her composure and began crying—but also the exact right thing to say, as she smiled through her tears and thanked him for the suggestion. Mitch’s fear of sobbing females had more to do with his complete lack of experience with the species than true discomfort. Tasia’s tears froze him for a single moment; then he opened his arms and offered a landing space. She promptly tookhim up on it and nestled into his embrace, where she proceeded to wetly process her emotions. When the storm passed, Tasia had calmed considerably, and both of them were a good bit more damp.
Mitch entertained her with stories about his various mishaps as a wolf pup until the evidence of her tears had dissipated. Then he helped her sneak home. He was relieved that the Galanis house was empty when he dropped her off, and disappointed that he couldn’t risk sticking around.
His room at the inn felt colder and lonelier than usual. Sleep finally pulled him under, then taunted him with dreams of a flame-haired beauty dancing at a ball he could never attend.
The following week was a long slog of rain and short tempers. With the revelation of Granny’s plans and the prince’s arrival, Tasia had forgotten about her own plans to leave the house as soon as possible. But Pagona’s insistent moping and whining brought them roaring back to the forefront of her mind. As Tasia understood it, the fall and spring rains were the bane of her cousin’s existence. Pagona bemoaned the lack of snow constantly.
“If only it would snow,” she repeated for the nineteenth time one evening. “Then the girls could walk here with ease.”
