Later that day, Barrett knocks on my door, dressed in tan slacks and a red dress shirt, the top buttons left unbuttoned. Curly, brown chest hair pokes out from the opening, immediately reminding me of the glimpse I got of his chest just hours before.
“How nice of you to put a shirt on,” I say sarcastically as I open the door for him.
He steps inside my wing. “I can take it off if you’d rather,” he offers.
“Insufferable,” I mutter, failing to hide my smile. I grab the woven basket from the side table and slip my shoes on. “Let’s go, Prince Barrett.”
He holds the door open for me, gesturing me out into the hallway. “So, flower picking?” he asks.
I descend the stairs, Barrett following closely behind. “Yes. I used to want to own a flower shop when I was younger, so I thought this would be fun to do together. Plus, our options are kind of limited with the extra tagalongs we have joining us,” I say, glancing behind us at the small group of guards following us. “This was the only way I could get Ivan to agree to let us do something that wasn’t confined to my wing.”
“A flower shop, huh?” he asks. “What changed your mind to books?”
We step outside and into the sunshine, and I immediately regret the dress I chose. Although the sun is shining, a frigid wind whips through the air, sending goosebumps scattering across my arms.
“My best friend, Cally, convinced me. She’s also Ursine.”
He nods his head appreciatively. “Good friend to have, then,” he says with a wink.
I chuckle. “Yes, she is.”
The sweet smell of roses wafts toward Barrett and me as we approach the rose garden. Like Etta, this might be one of my favorite spots on the grounds. Birds flit between various feeders throughout the garden, soft tweets filling the air.
He looks around, his eyes lighting as he does. “This is gorgeous.”
I smile. “Isn’t it? Holly brought me here one of my first days, and I fell in love with it. I can’t wait to bring a book out here once everything settles down.”
“You mean when you’re no longer being courted by five different males and can live a bit more of a normal life?” he asks me, eyebrows raised.
I snort. “Something like that.”
“Tell me about your old life, before this,” he says.
I walk to a rose bush, clipping a light pink rose from a stem and placing it in the basket.
“What do you want to know?” I ask, glancing at him.
“Were you happy?” He walks ahead, studying a bundle of blooming white peonies.
I consider the question for a moment. “Yes, I was. Mostly, anyway.” I had my issues, and still do, but I was mostly happy.
He turns to me, a bundle of peonies in his hand. “And now?”
I hold the basket out to him. He gently sets the bundle of white flowers inside, right next to the pale pink roses I selected. “Hmm…” I say, thinking out loud. “Yes.”
He cocks his head, a smirk on his face. “That didn’t sound too convincing.”
I hesitate, mulling over my words carefully. “Yes, I am. I…I struggle with some things, mentally, and I’ve had a hard time adjusting, if I’m being totally honest. But I am adjusting. I’m getting there.”
“Well, good,” he says, then stares off, seeming to struggle with what to say next.
“Everything okay?” I ask him.
“I need to tell you something,” he says, looking at me with a grimace.
“What’s up?” I ask, my magic flaring, ready for signs of deception. I reach for a bundle of white hydrangeas, then grab the pair of shears from the basket and bend down to pluck them.
“I’m not interested in marrying you.”
