She smiles. “Of course.”
All three of us watch as Nate tries to politely decline the drink, but when he notices us all staring at him, nodding our heads, he accepts. There’s something sweet about him. At least I hope there is. I’m not always the best judge of character. But then again, as I pointed out to Brevan, I saw through him, didn’t I? There is a good man in there, I’m certain of it. And then therewas Katherine. She was better than anyone else I’ve ever met. But her choice to work with me got her killed.
I shove the memory away. I’m not ready to deal with that right now. One day, I will sit and think about what she sacrificed. Try to find a way to properly honor her and her family. But right now, I don’t have it in me. I think that makes me a coward. It should be her here instead of me.
“Everything alright?” Antonia asks.
I blink a few times and realize I’m holding my cup halfway to my mouth, just frozen in place. I set the cup down, then force a smile. “Yes, I’m fine. Just thinking.”
She nods, her expression serious. I suspect she spends a lot of her time thinking as well.
We spend the rest of the day wandering the estate. While it’s much smaller than the castle, it’s just as easy to get lost in.
Charlotte finds us in the music room while Antonia plays the harp. Genevieve takes a turn on the piano. When Charlotte sings along, I think I understand how any man would be instantly charmed by her. Her voice is pure sunshine.
The girls take turns trying to teach me various instruments and I attempt to play them, badly.
“My father played the fiddle, but he never taught me. He’d play these tunes that made you want to spin and dance.” I smile at the memory.
“Didn’t you ever sing?” Charlotte asks.
“No. But he did. I didn’t realize how much I missed that. It’s strange. How you think you’ll get to hear those songs and those voices forever, and then one day, they’re gone.”
“Do we know any of the songs?” Antonia asks. “I can’t play the fiddle but maybe I can play on the piano for you.”
“I can play,” Nate offers. “I know a few Iskvalandian songs. Maybe one of them is something your father knew?”
“Thank you.” I did it again. Just discussing my real life as if there was nobody around who might be suspicious. It was like I just forgot he was there. Did I always do that or was he just more quiet than other guards?
For someone saying she wants to live, I’m making a lot of stupid mistakes.
My ladies settle onto the plush stools, leaving the armchair for me. It feels too much like a throne for my taste, but I try to make myself look like I’m used to such luxury while everyone else takes the less comfortable seats.
Nate crosses the room, his sword swinging by his side. He chooses a fiddle from the wall, then with the practiced movements of someone familiar with the instrument, he begins to play.
The first song is slow, sorrowful, but also beautiful. It’s intimate. Personal. I can’t take my eyes off the way he moves so gracefully with the instrument. Like the bow is part of him and they’re partners in a dance. None of us speak.
When he finishes the song, we’re quiet longer than we should be before I clap. “That was beautiful.”
He inclines his head. “Thank you, your highness. Did it sound familiar to you?”
“I can’t say it did. When I was younger, the slower songs didn’t hold my attention I’m afraid.”
He grins. “Then let’s try this.” With rapid movements, he transforms the notes into something entirely different. Jaunty and playful, the tune is like a celebration.
And it’s one I know.
I clap along, the smile on my face genuine. At some point, I begin to sing along quietly. It’s Iskvalandian, but it’s a memory. It was a common song in my village growing up, but I’d forgotten it. It’s as if a moment of my childhood was unlocked from my mind.
Nate taps his toe, completely absorbed in the music. When he catches sight of me singing, he lights up and begins to sing himself.
The others clap along, laughing and joyful. Genevieve and Charlotte get up and dance, spinning each other around until the music ends.
We’re flushed and giggling and having so much fun that when the lamps around us begin to glow, I’m startled back to reality. It’s nearly dark, we’ve been here most of the day.
“That was such fun,” Charlotte says.
“What was the song about?” Genevieve asks.
