“And what are you thinking?” she asked him.
“I’m thinking,” he said, leaning closer, “of just how easy it would be to tear this lovely thin fabric from your shoulder, just here.” He traced his fingertips over the chiffon of her right sleeve without turning to look, his eyes fixed on the pianist.
“Not a chance!” whispered Rinka out of the corner of her mouth. “I’ve never had a gown this nice before, and I would sooner tear a painting in half than this work of art.”
She glanced sideways to look at him before she continued, and the heat in his eyes threatened to ignite her. “If you wished to remove it, you’d need to undo the hooks just back here—” She glanced around the room and then took his hand, placing it on her back.
“I see,” he whispered, running his fingers over the gown’s closures. “So many hooks. An exercise in patience, I suppose.”
“Some things are worth the wait,” said Rinka.
“But waiting is hard,” he said.
Out of the corner of her eye, Rinka could see him shifting his weight a little, the minute movement of his hips as he adjusted himself.
She shivered.
The applause began then for the end of the elf’s performance. Idris withdrew his hand to clap, leaving Rinka to feel the echo of his touch.
“You aren’t the only one who won’t be sleeping tonight,” said Idris quietly, his words drowned out by the applause. And then, louder, for everyone else to hear: “Good night, Lady Rinka. I hope you have the sweetest dreams.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
THE DAM
Alison
Early the next morning, Keir brought Charlotte to see the garden he and Alison had made into a memorial for her inside of Alison’s hedge maze.
The summer flowers were putting on their absolute best show: great blue globes of massive hydrangeas filling the shady corners; sunny white daisies with yellow centers and sweeping stems of bright pink cosmos near the bench; pale pink roses that scaled the garden walls, twining dramatically with deep purple clematis; the elegant tea rose Alison thought Keir had pruned to death in the spring standing front and center, blooming wildly with massive flowers of a delicate peach shade; and tall spires of catmint and lavender filling the ground underneath it all, absolutely covered in bees.
They brought Charlotte to the rock they had painted with her old name. Keir knelt to remove it, but she stopped him.
“Leave it,” she said. “That part of my life is over. Let it stay buried here in this beautiful place.”
They left her there with a book she had brought to read. Alison watched her exhale as they left, watched the tension drain from her shoulders, felt the peace of the garden working its magic and bringing her the closure she deserved.
After a pleasantly uneventful ride into Fossholm, Alison and Keir made their way around the Midsummer Festival, taking in all the sights and sounds of celebration.
There were buffet tables full of summer delights: fire-grilled meats and platters of mouthwateringly ripe fruits, bowls of fragrant punch, and even a station serving treats chilled in an enormous ice box. It wasn’t quite as spectacular as the feast in the fairy forest, but Alison enjoyed a cone of ice cream as they walked past groups of musicians playing lively tunes; lawn games of badminton, cricket, and croquet; competitions to lift heavy stones and throw logs a great distance; and children with painted faces, laughing and running around a great bonfire where the wicker man had burned the night before.
The courtiers walked among the common folk, and although the royal family had their own separate tent to gather in, Alison spotted Prince Idris and Rinka walking near the river.
“Why don’t you introduce me to the prince?” Alison asked Keir.
He looked at her, confused, but slowly understood her meaning. “Of course,” he said. “Let’s meet his lovely companion as well.”
Rinka looked so pretty in her cream-colored day dress, her red hair tucked under a wide-brimmed hat to keep the sun off her face.
There were others around, and so they made their false introductions before Alison asked Lady Rinka if she’d like to take a turn with her about the river.
Arm in arm, the ladies walked until they were a distance from the other festival-goers.
“Well?” asked Alison. “Tell me everything.”
Rinka caught her up at length about her time in the manor: her grand chambers and her new beautiful clothes which arrived by the day, the fancy dinners and evenings of entertainment, and her harrowing introduction to the royal family and the better encounters that followed.
“And Idris?” asked Alison. “Is he treating you well?”
