I spread the papers beneath my fingers, each sheet holding an inkyoutline of every aspect I imagine makes up a party. Many I never would have considered. Floral arrangements, seasonable flowers, options for the vases to hold them, color schemes, cake flavors, sizes, and shapes.
“You have a baker who can make the cake look like a swan?” My eyebrows shoot up in disbelief.
“We do,” Awri says warmly, “Though I think a swan is a little off the mark for the theme. Don’t you?”
“I do,” I answer, suddenly aware that she’ll have a question just like it for every piece of paper on the table and they won’t all be so simple.
We spend the day going over several of the mind-numbing party details. She asks for my opinion on everything and though I’m sure I make a fool of myself with a handful of answers, she never lets it show. Despite my assumptions, I do in fact find an advantage in agreeing to assist in the planning. Like those Felias employs to grow his flowers, Awri made a list of feyn with various gifts that will assist with the event. I memorize each name and the gift they were born with. The more knowledge I have about their abilities, the better.
Riesh and Kishek try to offer their opinions throughout the day and Awri thanks them while simultaneously shutting them down completely, yet politely. I don’t know how she does it. They give up altogether after a late lunch and vanish toward the stables to spar. If I thought I hated party planning before, the effort of sitting through it while enduring the clash of steal is almost unbearable.
I expect the general to be more on edge after the events of the prior evening. He’s somewhat more relaxed and it puzzles me. Maybe he thinks he has a good understanding of my skillset and he’s sure he can overpower me in a fight. Whatever the reason, while he still remains close throughout the day, he seems to no longer feel the need to be a physical barrier between Awri and myself.
When the light begins to fade Awri calls her carriage and insists on joining me on my journey back to the manor.
“I would call today a success, wouldn’t you?” she asks over her shoulder as the general helps her into the carriage.
“I’ll feel a little more accomplished when we’ve managed to gethalfway through that stack of papers,” I say, covering a yawn.
She laughs a little manically from inside the carriage, and for some reason it makes me smile. I reach out to pull myself onto the step, and my breath catches when the general snaps my hand out of the air, drawing it close to his face. Me along with it.
“What are you doing?” I wonder.
“Making sure you didn’t hurt yourself too badly,” he says.
I snort when I realize he’s examining the small sliver of broken flesh on my knuckle where it split when I struck him. It’s so small I’d hardly noticed it myself.
“Don’t worry,” I tease, “I’ve slept on pillows harder than your face.”
Awri masks a laugh and I swear the edge of his mouth twitches. He lifts my hand to help me inside the carriage, and I think maybe I hit the male harder than either of us realized if this is the change it has elicited in him.
Awri raps her knuckles against the roof as soon as he shuts the door, and I try not to gape as he disappears into the cottage. He’s left me all alone with his friend. It’s entirely unexpected.
Despite the fact that he has hardly looked at me since I’ve known him, I’ve always felt his eyes on me. He’s kept close watch every second, poised and at the ready to interfere in … well, I’m not sure exactly what he expects. While our encounter in the woods seems the likely culprit to his change of heart, it makes no sense. If the male needed a reason not to trust me, a reason to expel me from the good grace of his friend and keep me from his king, he has it.
The ride to the manor is quiet and contemplative, at least for my part. The carriage stops in the courtyard, and I turn to say goodbye when Awri slips past me without a word. I almost fall out of the carriage in my rush to chase after her as she makes for the front door.
“May I come in?” she asks expectantly, standing on the stone threshold of the manor.
“Of course,” I say, my brow pinching as I usher her inside.
Nothing about this feels right and my stomach knots. Maybe she has her own set of opinions on the events of the prior evening. I should have done more to find out exactly what the general told her, but if any of theothers were concerned by his tale, they certainly hadn’t shown it.
Enrik greets us at the door, looking as unsure of the situation as I feel when he asks, “Will the lady be joining us for dinner?”
Awri sticks me with another look of determined expectation, and it takes me entirely too long to devise what she wants from me.
I stumble over the words as they leave my mouth in a jumbled rush, “Would you like to stay for dinner?”
“How kind of you to offer,” she coos, “If it’s no imposition, that would be lovely.”
She hands Enrik her cloak and glides off beyond the foyer. I share a questioning glance with the male as he takes my cloak as well, hanging them in a large closet by the door before darting off toward the kitchen.
I hurry after Awri and stop her with a light touch on her arm, hopeful that I haven’t offended her.
“I’m sorry,” I say, “I should have invited you to join me for dinner before tonight. You shouldn’t have had to ask.”
“I’ve never enjoyed the nuances of what is considered appropriate in society,” she says, taking hold of my hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “Let’s make a deal. I will always tell you what I want, though you will be under no obligation to provide it unless you choose to do so, and in return, you will offer me the same.”
