Page 33 of A Cake of Cherries and Charm

Marianne, who walked beside them, glared daggers at Rosie. But Rosie couldn’t help the little smile that crept onto her lips.

She might not be the queen’s favorite. But right now–for a brief moment–she was in Jonathan’s arms. And she doubted that even scheming Marianne could say the prince had held her like this before.

He put her down gently on the emptiest picnic blanket, saying he hoped she had enough space to stretch. “You won’t want to sit too still for too long,” he warned her, his brows drawn slightly as he looked at her legs. “I know it hurts, but it will hurt even more if you let your limbs stiffen up.”

“Oh, I don’t plan to,” she said somewhat breathlessly. “As soon as I’ve eaten, I’m going to go find the flowers.”

“I’ll come with you,” he said. But even as he spoke, Marianne was already playfully tugging at his hand, urging him to join her where she’d saved him a spot. Rosie sighed when he gave in, and Marianne beamed. Rosie might have won a battle, but Marianne was winning the war.

One of the servants, she guessed at the prince’s direction, brought her a plate of food. She sat quietly and ate, trying to ignore the pain that now seemed to touch every muscle in her body, and focused instead on the familiar world around her.

A pain deeper than that in her limbs settled into her heart as she closed her eyes, breathing deeply of the air that smelled of pine and sage and water from the stream that ran nearby. Oh, how she had missed this place. A few more hills down, and they would have reached her cottage. Yes, her cousin lived there now, but in her heart, it would always be her home. In fact, it was probably good that they had stopped when they did. If she had seen the dear little cottage with the windows that her father had set and the chimney smoking with cheerful puffs of smoke, she might not have been able to leave.

The food tasted better here, too. But then again, the outdoors had a way of making everything taste better. She and Snow had enjoyed countless picnics of their own in this very spot. Every sensation was heightened, from taste to color to scent to sound.

What would it feel like to kiss Jonathan beneath the trees?

Rosie startled at the inappropriate thought as it flashed through her mind. No, that was certainly not a thought trail her mind would be pursuing.

To keep herself from wondering more, as well as to keep herself from looking longingly like a little lost lamb at Jonathan, where he was sitting now, laughing at whatever Marianne had just said, Rosie forced herself to her feet. She ground her teeth at the pain, but knew it would be best if she went now before she had any more time to think.

Remembering the prince’s promise to come with her, she paused at the edge of the loud, happy scene. No one had joined her on her blanket, so no one noticed when she stood and left. Then she made her way slowly to the edge of the clearing, where she tried to catch his eyes several times. Not once, though, did Jonathan look in her direction.

Well, Rosie huffed to herself, she wasn’t about to scream his name to get his attention above the noisy din of the other young people. So, after another moment of waiting, she took her gathering basket, removed her shoes, and made her way toward the woods.

In spite of the pain that made her limp badly, Rosie felt her entire body relax as soon as she stepped out of the clearing and into the woods. The noise of the picnic quickly grew muted, and she closed her eyes and drank in the clean, sweet air, allowing the forest to envelop her in its kiss. She relished how her bare feet felt against the cool, moist forest floor, and she pretended for a moment that nothing had ever changed. Her mother was just a few hills over, picking sweet peas in the garden. Snow was somewhere nearby, probably looking for honeysuckle. And Rosie–

“You shouldn’t have come here alone. I told you I’d come with you.”

The spell was broken, and Rosie sighed as she turned to face the prince.

“I grew up in these woods, you know,” she said with a wry smile. “I could walk this place blindfolded and know every rock and tree by name.” To prove her point, she nodded at a cluster of oaks not far from where she stood. “Beyond those trees is a stream full of trout. And if you like acorn soup, the tree on the right produces exceptionally savory acorns.”

Then she turned and pointed at a tree to her left. “There’s a family of squirrels in that one, right up there in the second hole. Every year, they disappear after the babies grow up, and every year, they reappear to begin their new family in the spring.

“Does it make you sad?” he asked, studying her face. “To be here again?”

“A little.” She gave him a smile that wavered more than she meant it to.

He came a few steps closer, so she had to look up to meet his eyes. “Tell the truth, Lady Rose,” he said softly.

“Very well, then,” she said, her voice cracking. “If I must tell the truth, I’m growing more homesick by the minute.”

He came yet closer until he was near enough to reach out and wipe the single tear that rolled down her cheek. “This place is a part of you,” he whispered. “I can see that now.” Then he gave her a small smile. “And it helps me make sense of you.”

Rosie blinked up at him in confusion. What did he mean by that? She was about to ask when a shrill voice broke the delicate silence that had briefly enveloped them.

“Your Highness? Oh, there you are!”

Rosie let out a gusty breath before turning and beginning to scan the ground for the yellowbelles. She found a little cluster beneath an oak tree just as Marianne appeared at Jonathan’s side.

“What are you doing all the way in here?” she asked, looking around. Then she frowned at Rosie’s feet. “And why are you barefoot?”

“Because I came to find yellowbelles,” Rosie said, determined not to look at the girl. “And they grow where the soil is moist. Feeling the ground with my feet helps me know where to look.”

“Oh.” Marianne’s lip curled slightly. “Well, I suppose rustics know that kind of thing.” She looked up at Jonathan again. “How long do we have to stay here?” she pouted.

“If you recall,” Jonathan said patiently, “we came here to find flowers to help protect my brother’s wedding from a vengeful troll. Now, if you’ll be so kind as to tell my captain of the guard that I should like his presence, I–”