Lyssara yanked the blanket off her head. “Wait—no—that’snothow logical discussions work!”
Vorrik gasped dramatically and grabbed the nearest merchant. “Where is the nearest goat?”
“No goats!” Esther cried.
But she was smiling. Smiling like an idiot in love.
Because she was an idiot in love. She waited for guilt to follow. For shame. For the instinctive urge to apologize for taking up space. None of it came.
Then it hit her.
Oh no. Oh no no no.
She was in love.
With an elf who committed to marriage like it was an invitation to afternoon tea. She had absolutely no idea how to navigate this new emotional development. But for once, not knowing felt like a possibility rather than a failure.
Nythir squeezed her hand gently.
“Good,” he murmured.
Lyssara covered her eyes. “You two are going to kill me.”
Vorrik patted her head. “I’ll look for a goat.”
“No goats!” Lyssara snapped, remembering the horrible bleating menace at her wedding. “This is why adults shouldn’t be left unsupervised.”
23
Lucy
How to survive travel with nobles: don’t.
“Finally!” Lucy shouted, her voice echoing through the empty streets, likely disturbing some poor resident’s sleep.
Lucy had tried. Truly. She had prepared snacks, rehearsed patience, and even entertained the thought that maybe—justmaybe—this trip would not make her consider a life of crime. She had been wrong on all counts.
“Mind your manners, child,” the Baroness hissed. “Even the roosters have yet to crow.”
Lucy didn’t care. She had been stuck in a carriage with the two most stagnant people she had ever had the dismay of traveling with for five days.
Five whole agonizing days. It might as well have been a newly discovered torture technique, tested on her firsthand.
Basil had attempted a conversation on day two. By day three, he had stopped speaking unless spoken to. By day four, Lucy was sure the Baroness was doing it on purpose.
Lucy had a newfound sympathy for Esther. Sympathy, and something sharper beneath it. Lucy didn’t like how easily people decided what was best for Esther. She liked even less that Esther had been trained to accept it.
When they returned to the castle, she vowed to do her best to sabotage all of her horrid lessons, consequences be damned.
They would have arrived before sunset if the carriage wheel hadn’t broken off—thanks to a sentient pinecone of all things.
The driver had gotten too close to Ashvale, insisting it was a shortcut to Stonehaven. Story had it that a very antisocial mage once lived in the forest and had cast a spell to keep others from disturbing them. Apparently, even riding along a side road near it was too much of a disturbance.
Lucy made a mental note never to return. Places that enforced boundaries aggressively, either protected privacy or hid something worth protecting.
Lucy turned around and flipped off the forest in the distance. The Baroness gasped at the rude gesture.
The sun had started to rise behind the trees, casting the forest in a dusty rose hue that made it look like a famous painting.
