There is no note to explain their presence, but I find that I am not in need of a letter to explain who left them. It’s a simple pair of black leather pants, most certainly procured from a uniform.
Perhaps it’s his way of apologizing or maybe he simply prefers me covered up. It makes no difference to me. It’s the closest thing I’ve had to my leathers since leaving home and even if it’s meant as a slight, I’ll take them gladly.
I let go of the notion I have about falling into bed. My eyes move from the pants to the makeshift dagger at my side. The night is still young, and there is enough time left before dawn to accomplish something for myself. Something more than party planning and socializing. Something that means … well, something.
I rush to my closet and change into the darkest dress I find. It is a true black, as dark as the sea on a stormy day. I pull on the leather pants, folding the excess bunching at my ankles. They’re obviously made for a male, someone taller but thankfully lean. They fit like a glove along the curve of my legs and when I cinch them at the waist the feeling is nearly the same as the day I’d been given my first pair. I want to squeal.
I drape my dark cloak over my shoulders, pull up the hood, and swing open one of the tall windows lining my room. I’d been given a room with a view of the forest on the western side of the palace, and I thank the stars for my luck as I crawl out the window, setting my feet on the wildflower lawns. A ground floor room isn’t ideal for defending against a siege, but in this case, it is perfect for my secret endeavors in the dark.
I manage to skirt the guards patrolling the grounds with ease. It occurs to me that with knowledge of the fea’s existence, I should be more wary of trudging through a dark forest in a strange land. But if there is a forest that is safe to traverse it will be the one closest to the palace. I doubt they let malicious fea run wild in these woods.
It doesn’t take long to find what I’m looking for. A young birch tree sits amidst a starlit grove, a freshly broken branch hanging at its side. I wrench the branch free, knot the panels of my dress below my hip, and settle in on a small boulder in the center of a clearing.
The small blade carves into the soft flesh of the branch like butter. I make quick work of it, every stroke of my blade shaping and refining it until it no longer resembles a sword; it becomes one. A breeze coils at the base of my neck, licking chilly tendrils along my jaw. The treetops sway and I can hear the noise of the sea in their fluttering leaves. Thick shafts of moonlight break through the forest beyond the clearing and I’m reminded of the domed room with fea eyes.
A loud snap from the dark woods beside me draws my attention. Could be nothing. Another snap and a rustling of leaves brings me to my feet.
I lean the toy sword against the rock and flip the dagger in my hand, studying the weight of it. The noise gets louder, nearer. Whatever it is, it’s big. I shift my stance, widening my feet, preparing to be charged.
I’m not entirely relieved when a tall horse breaks from the edge of the forest with the general astride, but I exhale a deep breath and my muscles relax. I might have preferred the wild fea my mind conjured to the male holding my gaze across the clearing, his lips a thin line of displeasure.
I don’t owe him an explanation, though I have no doubt he will demand one shortly. I reassure myself that I haven’t done anything wrong and retake my seat on the boulder, continuing to carve the finishing touches into the hilt of the toy sword.
Dismounting, he ties his horse to a tree before striding across the grove to study my project.
“Why did you sneak out of your room?” His voice is soft, and if I didn’t know any better, I might think he’s concerned.
“What makes you think I snuck out?”
He scoffs as if my question is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.
“The guards would have told me if they’d seen you leave,” he says.
“Then how did you know I left?” I bait him for the knowledge of hisreply.
I was sure I wasn’t seen but his presence here tells me otherwise. If there is some other way in which the male can be made aware of my location, I want to know what it is.
“That is beside the point,” he barks into the night.
Damn.
“I didn’t realize I was to be confined to my rooms without an escort. Perhaps there is a small book you’d like me to sign whenever I leave my room, so that I can log my whereabouts?” I regret the suggestion as soon as it slips past my lips. I don’t want to give him any ideas he might actually consider using.
“You are not a prisoner,” he says, and his voice holds an edge, all hint of softness gone. I force myself not to crack a smile as his temper shows itself. “You are free to come and go from the palace as you please.”
I know this, but I also knew it would bristle the male that he felt he had to defend himself, and after his comments earlier this morning I no longer feel the need to placate his ego.
“Then why are you here?” I ask, blowing a curled wood shaving from the carved hilt.
“I should have told you earlier to make yourself at home at the palace. I intended to.” He shifts his weight and sighs. “There were also things I wish I hadn’t said. Things I hadn’t meant.” His voice sharpens in annoyance. “Would you stop whittling that stick and look at me?”
I let the stick fall to rest atop my knees and meet his eyes with an irritated sigh and arch of my brow.
“What are you doing?” he asks, glancing at the sword.
I run my hand along the smooth wood, reminding myself why I came.
“When Awri took me to the orphanage, there was a boy there, Elian. She promised him a sword so that he could play with the others. I don’t think he’ll mind that it isn’t from the king.”
