CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I found David sitting beneath the branches of a great oak, biting into an apple he’d snuck from one of the orchard’s trees. He held another out as I approached him.
“Actually, I was hoping we could talk.”
He patted the ground next to him, and I joined him, leaving a careful gap between us.
David examined a scuff on the apple’s surface, rubbing it against his uniform. “You work with the royal family more than I.”
“Yes...”
He took another bite, his crunch grating against my ears. He reached for me, pulling me closer, when I wished nothing more than to stay distant. “Why does Prince Thomas keep glaring at me?”
I sucked in a breath. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “I’m as baffled as you. I don’t remember angering a prince recently—well, not to his face. But I guess when you’re a royal you can just take your anger out on random commonfolk.”
My mouth ran dry. “I’m not sure.”
He finished his final bite, tossing the apple core so it bounced off a nearby trunk and thunked on the ground. A squirrel that had tucked itself behind fallen branches skittered up a tree.
“I have something to tell you,” I said.
“Anything, my love.”
I forced the words from my lips. “I don’t want to get married.”
His whole body stiffened beside me. I shifted away from him.
“Is it cold feet?” His eyes searched mine intently. “Was it Kelara getting in your head?”
“What? No,” I said. “It was me. I don’t want to get married yet. I don’t want to settle down and have children and stay at home and…”
“But that was our dream.”
“That was your dream, David. You just pushed it onto me.”
He dragged his hand down his face, leaving red marks from where fingers had dug into his cheeks. “I can’t believe this.”
“I’m sorry, David. I’m so, so sorry.”
His hold on me released. Something in me grieved at its loss, knowing I’d never feel his arms around me again.
“Do you love me? Truly?”
“Yes,” I said, and for the first time, the words, the truth, came easily. “We’ve been together for almost two years. And you’ve been good to me. So good.” My hand moved to cradle his face. “But I want more than what you’re offering. I want magic and studies. I want to make something of myself.”
“You don’t have to accomplish all of that to be important, Lyra.”
“I know,” I said. “You saw me as important without any of it. That’s why I love you.”
“Then what’s the issue?”
“It’s not enough.” I clasped my trembling fingers together.
Silence fell between us, his body still as death. I wanted to move to him, run my hand through his waves, let him press his lips to mine and relax, but held back.
It wouldn’t help. Not when I could no longer deny the spark between us had cooled to ashes long ago.
Not when I had now found a different, truer spark: arms wrapped around mine as water buried me, coming up for air against a rapid heartbeat, a damp shirt, water-stained spectacles hiding dark eyes that hungered for more…
“I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am,” I said.
David stared off into the distance. “So where does that leave us?”
My words were quiet. “I think you already know.”
He finally turned to me, but now, the affection had faded, and in its place was grief.
“I’m not ready to settle. I’m not sure I’ll ever be. You’d have to be okay with that.”
“Don’t be rash, Lyra.” His hand reached for me once more, and I leaned away so his fingers met only air.
“I’ve been lying to myself for long enough,” I said, my voice wavering. I got to my feet, dusting off my dress and trying to hide the way my body shook. “You need to find someone else.”
A muscle in David’s jaw clenched, but he failed to reply. I offered a sad smile.
I left him there, beneath the tree with fiery colors dancing in the leaves above. I prayed for him, that he’d find a love that showed him just what I meant when I said not enough.
And prayed that I’d made the right choice.
Stars danced across the pond’s reflection as I waited for Prince Thomas by the water.
Cricket chirps and owl hoots echoed between the palace hedges, lit only by the night sky and a few scattered torches.
He was usually here first, but tonight, the autumn breeze wrapped its way around my ankles, tossing my skirts in a way that made me flush.
It was hard to forget the way my nightgown had clung to me only yesterday, the way water had plastered his shirt to his skin as we held onto each other beneath the wave.
Leaves crunched behind me. I turned toward the sound.
Thomas stood, his tailcoat buttoned tight, his arms unusually empty.
“No books?” I asked.
He shook his head, coming to sit on the boulder next to me. “Not tonight.”
I handed him the compilation of research notes I’d scribbled down at his request, all bound in a leather folder for him to take with him to university.
“Have I graduated from your class?” I teased, nudging him with my shoulder.
He chuckled, looking down at his hands, at the folder tucked within them. “You have certainly surpassed my expectations.”
I bit back a smile. I looked out on the still water, aware of the inches of air zapping with energy between us. “My Papa would be so proud of me.”
“As he should,” Thom said. “The water tower took me a year to figure out. It took you three months.”
“Yes, three months of focused, obsessive practice.”
“A very attractive trait,” he muttered, then ducked his head as if he wished he could take the words back.
Warmth flooded my cheeks as I fiddled with my skirts. “Mine wasn’t nearly so tall as yours.”
“Give it time,” he said. “By next summer, yours will be three times my height.”
I laughed. “Then it will really make a wave.”
He tensed next to me, and my chuckles slowed, both of us lost in memories of a moment that should have never happened, but now that it had, we couldn’t take it back. Goosebumps prickled my arms and neck in the cool night air.
“Lyra,” he said, pain seeping into his voice. “I have to apologize.”
I blinked. “Apologize? Why?”
“I…” He took a deep breath and stood, running a hand along his jaw. “I thought it was obvious. Our conduct last night was… most indecorous.”
I blushed.
“You’re a taken woman.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it.
“Taken by that… that buffoon of a guard. Excuse my language.”
“Thom.”
“Don’t call me that, not when you return to that smirking idiot for your daily walks through my garden, my palace, and all I’m left to do is watch…”
“Thom.”
“No,” he said. “Don’t. I had to tell you. Before I left. I had to make things right.”
My heart thudded. “But there’s something you don’t know.”
“What could be worse than what it is now?”
My lips slowly curved upward, my words breathless. “I called off the wedding.”
He paused.
“I ended our relationship this morning. It seems you and I both came to similar conclusions.”
“You…” A crease formed between his brows.
I laughed, the sound bubbling from my chest over still water, out into the air. “I’m free.”
I flung my arms out, sinking back onto the cool boulder that poked into my side in the most wonderful way. I was free. A cool wind tickled the sides of my face.
When my joy abated, I pushed up on my elbows to see Thomas watching me, his face spellbound.
I smothered another giggle. Is this what true love felt like? Like a fizzing cauldron was trapped inside your chest, sending sparks and tingles through your limbs?
Thomas adjusted his spectacles. “Why?”
My stomach dropped, the sparks within smoldering. “What do you mean why?”
“That was a lengthy relationship to end over a single night’s mistake.”
“Mistake?” I pushed myself up to my feet.
“I just mean—” he stuttered. “People will talk.”
“People will talk?” I marched over to him, fists clenched at my sides. “You didn’t seem to care for people’s talk last night.”
“I am trying to protect you.”
“I don’t need protecting.” I leaned closer to him. My face hovered before his, my nostrils flaring, my cheeks aflame. His eyes were searching, desperate for something, unable to find it.
His breaths sent wisps of hair around my face flying, tickling my cheeks.
“You don’t,” he murmured. “You’re correct. I apologize.”
I pressed my lips together. His eyes dropped to the movement.
“Apology accepted,” I said. His warmth seeped out into the air, instead of against me where it belonged.
“Why did you end your relationship with David?”
I shook my head. “Why does it matter? It’s over.”
“It does,” he insisted. “It matters to me.”
“Why?” I asked.
His fingers dug into my waist and pulled me close, stealing the breath from my lungs.
And then he kissed me.