The kiss lingered on Rinka’s lips and in her mind as she went about the rest of her day.
It was there with her when the tailor—Lydiach, a friend of Alison’s who thankfully did not give away Rinka’s true identity—arrived to measure her for her new dresses and gowns. It was there when Ms. Murray dressed her for dinner in a hideous frock left by a former guest of Weldan House, the only garment they could find suited for the occasion that would fit her broad shoulders. It was there at that very first dinner in the manor when she was seated among the distinguished guests who had already arrived, dukes and viscountesses and lords and ladies whose names she would not be able to recall because there was only room for one name in her mind:Idris.
It stayed with her the next day as she joined him in the tent where he had been seated as the guest of honor for the arrival of the royal family, his family, a table apart from the others in a tent apart from the others.
“How did you sleep?” he asked her. “Were your quarters to your liking?”
Rinka had gone from a room shared with her mother to a tiny closet of a room in the flat she shared with Alison to one ofthe most opulent guest rooms in Weldan House, a room with an enormous four-post bed, a private dressing room, and a balcony that overlooked the central courtyard. The dressing room alone was larger than Alison and Rinka’s entire flat.
“I barely slept at all,” she said truthfully. It wasn’t because of the unfamiliar surroundings though, and it certainly wasn’t due to a lack of comfort. “There was something occupying my mind that kept me tossing and turning in bed.”
“Oh?” said Idris. He shifted in his seat, his eyes wild with mischief. “Care to share it with me?”
“I think you already know what it was,” she said, casting her eyes downward demurely and then glancing back up at him, a picture of feigned innocence.
He moaned, lowering his voice so that only she could hear it. “Lady Rinka, I do believe you are a tease.”
A duke approached, bowing to Idris and starting a conversation about the pirates that had attacked the ferry. The duke was disappointed to get little from Idris, who seemed rather distracted, until Rinka shared her version of the tale, which fascinated him and brought others around as well. The only thing that caught Idris’s attention was a retired admiral’s mention of an increase in naval spending to secure the waters once more.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if my father hired Burning Ash himself,” said Idris to Rinka once the crowd had dispersed.
“The king would hire pirates?” asked Rinka. It sounded insane.
“He would, and far worse than that as well,” said Idris grimly.
By the time the trumpets sounded the beginning of the procession, they had been served a four-course lunch, and more than a dozen other courtiers had come by to discuss some matter or another. Idris had grown increasingly impatient during theirexchanges, although Rinka was having a decent time. They seemed nice enough so far, at least.
Rinka and Idris walked along their elevated platform to a window out of the tent overlooking the drive. Rinka peered out of the window as Idris came up along beside her, gently pressing his thigh against her hip and resting his hand on the small of her back.
“Careful,” said Rinka, holding back a sigh. “How am I ever meant to sleep at night if this is how I spend my days?”
“If I had my way, you wouldn’t be sleeping at all,” he murmured. “Everyone is watching the procession.”
Rinka looked to her left, and indeed the rest of the courtiers were gathered by the open wall of the tent, all of their eyes fixed on the parade beyond.
She dared to lean back into him, feeling him against her.
He groaned softly, brushing his lips on the bare spot between her neck and her shoulder. “You’ll be the death of me,” he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her and reaching some part low within her that hadn’t awakened in a long time. “If I could fly, I’d take you far away from here right this very moment.”
She turned to face him, keeping her body close. “And then what?” she asked.
“And then—”
The trumpets blared again. “Pixie’s britches,” said Rinka as they parted.
Idris laughed. “Don’t tell me you don’t swear.”
“Give me something to swear about, and you’ll find out,” said Rinka.
Idris let out a low whistle. “Damn,” he swore.
Rinka wasn’t sure exactly what had come over her. Maybe it was the heat, which was considerable inside the tent, maybe itwas the freedom she felt whilst pretending to be someone else, but whatever it was, she liked it.
She took the hand Idris offered her as they reluctantly followed the crowd from the tent and onto the lawn.
“Just over here, your highness,” said a man in a military uniform, leading them to a spot at the front of the crowd nearest to the riverbank. “They’ll be arriving from the southwest.”
Rinka peered into the sky. Fluffy white clouds were making their way across the sun, their shadows lazily traveling over the hills and forest as a warm breeze whipped up the sides of the tent behind them. Rinka searched the landscape for winged creatures but noticed only a large bird of prey, possibly an eagle, soaring over the lake to the east.
