“Why would a woman not be proud to stand next to a King?”
That drags his gaze up. “Because what if that’s the only good part of me?”
My breath sticks in my lungs at the implication. “Titles are neither good nor bad. What determines your worth is your character.”
He pulls at his bottom lip, chewing it thoughtfully as he nods. “And what determines your character?”
I open my mouth, then blink a few times as I work for a perfect answer. But the truth there…perhaps there is none. The only thing I can find is, “What you say and do behind closed doors. When you think no one else is watching. When you think no one will ever know, and yet you still do the right thing.Thatis what determines your character.”
A genuine smile warms his features, and Gods does it flutter my heart. There is no denying his looks. And perhaps that is what will get me in trouble. The sharp cut of his jaw, the regal lines of his nose, and hauntingly beautiful eyes. How warm he is when he smiles. Because if it’s not me who he picks…if I get too close—it might devastate me.
He murmurs, “Then I hope to match the character you are someday, Lyra Goldbrook.”
I huff a laugh, lowering my gaze to our feet. “And what if you already are? What if you are more so than me?”
“Why would you think that?”
I glance back up at him. “Because if you’re asking how to be of good character, it shows you care. And that, in itself, is an indicator of a good person. You even said it the first time we dined together that you cared far too much.”
“As did you,” he says softly.
“And a man who tends to flowers cannot be impatient, rough,or irresponsible. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be a garden thriving beyond these walls.”
He captures a soft laugh behind his lips as he glances to his left at the counter. “You flatter me.”
“Then you admit there’s some truth in it?”
He swings his attention back to me, leaning his hip into the counter. “I admit that I try my best. But I heard of what you did. I’d argue what I’ve done cannot shine in comparison to you.”
My eyes widen, unsure of where he’s going with this. “And…what is that?” I pluck the last bite of the pastry and eat it.
“I heard you risked your life for other women during the trial. That you saved Marcella. And, from what I’ve been told, you and Marcella hadn’t gotten along before then.”
I pluck up some slices of cheese. “No, we hadn’t.”
“Why not?”
I glance at him quickly before I gather more cheese. “Some people…just don’t get along. It’s sort of like trying to grow roses and azaleas in the same planter. Both have different needs for soil, sun, and water. If you force the two of them together, one or both are bound to fail.”
“I see. But you asked about her earlier. What’s changed?”
I take a bite of cheese, working through each chew to find an answer. Once I swallow, I say, “I don’t know. I suppose no matter my differences with someone else, they still deserve kindness.”
“So you’re now friends?”
I chuckle. “I don’t know if I’d say that. And Marcella might swat you if you implied such a thing.”
His turn to laugh. Until it fades into something more quiet. More serious. “I…I truly am sorry for all the pain and stress this whole process has caused you.”
I stop chewing, noting the gentleness in his gaze. He continues, “If…there is ever a part of you…” he shakes his head, looking down at our shoes, “that wants to return home, I’ll always grant it for you. No questions asked.”
“I’m here because you intrigue me, Cyrus,” I whisper, soft enough to recapture his attention. “Perhaps it started off as an opportunity to better my family’s life, yes, I’ll admit it. But the times I’ve spoken with you and gotten to know you…” I take another step closer to him until we’re only a few inches away. I search his eyes. “I’ve almost found myself looking into a mirror.”
His dark lashes flutter as his eyes flick repeatedly from my parted lips to my eyes. I’m inching forward, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Whatisit about him? His looks? His charm? Surely, even without the title of King, I’d still be reeled in.
A knock sounds at the door.
We both blush and scurry back from each other. Cyrus brushes his long hair from his forehead back behind his neck. I wipe my hands against the sides of my dress.
