“Do you like working for Desmond?”
A wry smile. “Parts of it.”
“Which parts?”
“You’re rather nosy, aren’t you?” There’s no cruelty in his words, only genuine curiosity.
“I just … I like to know the truth of things. You don’t have to tell me.”
“It’s no secret, really. There are perks to being a celestial knight, to be sure. I always have a place to sleep. I never have to worry about where my next meal is coming from. I am respected by the people of Tír na Strelle.”
“But?” I peer at him over my shoulder.
He cocks his head, questioning.
“You said there were parts of it you liked.” I brush a fallen leaf off my sleeve, my fingertips grazing his hand on the reins. “That implies there are parts you don’t. Parts that are influencing your desire to leave, perhaps?”
His chin nudges my temple, as if he’s pleased I remembered our conversation from two nights ago. “Celestial knights are not allowed to marry. We are not allowed to own land. We are not allowed to form attachments to anything other than our duke and his people.”
I frown, a little sad for him. A little sad for myself, if I’m honest. Which is useless. “So, this is the next chapter you were talking about. One full ofattachments?”
“Something like that.” I can hear the smirk in his voice.
We fall quiet again, nothing scoring our journey but birdsong and the gentle clop of Tula’s hooves. I think about the perks he mentioned—constant shelter and guaranteed meals. Has he hadto worry about those before? Asking directly feels impertinent. Perhaps I can get at it from another angle.
“Did you grow up in Tír na Strelle?”
“Depends on who you ask.” At his odd answer, I turn again to find him grimacing. “I grew up in a region called Campan’s Vale.”
“And? The look on your face would suggest there’s more to it than that.”
“Do you really want to hear the boring politics?”
“If I’m to be queen, I should know all the politics, regardless of their entertainment value.”
He snickers. “Fair enough. Campan’s Vale had been a part of Tír na Strelle for centuries, but during King Aengus and Queen Caer’s reign, House Áine successfully petitioned for a decree to annex the region. The family has maintained property there for years, though how that gives them the right to the region itself is beyond me. Regardless, the map was redrawn, and Tír na Lune now claims the Vale. And the duke has been using some rather harsh methods to impose rule. Crippling new tithes being the least of them. The Vale has been overrun by his forces since the king and queen passed.”
“Do your parents still live there?”
“I never knew my parents.”
He says it in such a matter-of-fact tone, with no trace of bitterness or hurt, that my heart lurches for him. There’s a level of resilience required to navigate the world without parents. One I’m intimately familiar with.
“But the orphanage where I spent a good portion of my childhood is still there.”
“I’m an orphan, too,” I offer quietly.
“Really?” There’s a hopeful, yet confused note in his question, and?—
Shit. I’m supposed to be the Favourite.
“That is to say … I was not … I was raised by my grandmother. We were very close. She was a well-respected member of the peerage.”
A well-respected member who stepped away from it when she saw how they treated my mother, but Lachlan doesn’t need those details.
“Werevery close?” he asks.
“She died. A year and a half ago.” Grief, that familiar, weighty friend, lands on my chest, making my breaths come a little harder, a little slower.
