Chapter 7
Five Years Ago
“As I was saying,” I said.
I came and stood confidently beside Miss Jocelyn in the yard. The boys traveled ahead of us to retrieve the horses.
“Please do your very best to take every opportunity to speak to Ser Willoughby alone.”
Josie took a double-take. “Are you well?” she worried. “You’re so flushed.”
“I’m fine,” I lied. “I’ve just had the worst fight in the world with Ser Elías, and I think he might loathe me forever, and I am incredibly desperate to be sure it was worth it, but I’m fine.”
“What? Svana!”
“I just need a real conversation with Mr. Evergreen. Please,” I said.
“You’ve just fought with Ser Elías? Are you certain you’re alright? What happened?”
I shrugged. “I just want to get on with the day.”
Ser Willoughby appeared with his horse and Tails in tow, and Cyrus came with Edith and Isaac. She trotted proudly beside him, mane whipping as she went; she was a true beauty, putting us all to shame, and I could’ve wept at the sight of her even without my fried emotional capacity.
I sighed, brooding as I went to Edith, yet another horse, as Tails arrived at Josie. But then Cyrus’ hand came over mine, and gently, he turned me toward the other mare. My mare.
“Are we-?” I asked. “Are you-? Do I-?”
“I owe you a ride, do I not?” he asked.
I looked between the two of them, then bolted from where I stood before he could change his mind. Isaac eyed me suspiciously, marching in place. Cyrus cut between us to comfort her.
“Brilliant start,” he told me.
“I-” I cleared my throat. “I got excited.”
Josie squealed as her knight helped her onto Tails, and below her, he wore a dumb grin. He laughed excitedly, praising her execution of how she sat.
Cyrus ran his fingers through Isaac’s mane, hooked the base of her neck, and, to my surprise, I heard him tell her something nice.
“Go easy on her, Ice. She’s alright.” With the other two distracted, he took the opportunity to draw me to him. Quietly, he said, “Now that you’ve had time to sleep on it… Riding with me? Are you sure that’s what you want?”
I wanted to smile, to use the moment as an upper hand, finally winning something with someone for a change, but I only managed a weird noise—something between a giggle and a choke. It didn’t help anyone’s conviction, and he immediately stood a little taller.
I said, “I love riding. Of course. Unless you mean. In which- Well. I don’t know if I love it. But I loved what we- You see-?”
“Wow,” he said. “You know, yesterday I wasn’t sure if I should be worried with how easy it was for you to orchestrate all this. Now I’m just impressed you were able to form complete sentences.”
“Ah. Back to terrorizing me so soon?” I asked.
“I never planned to stop, Swan,” he said.
I immediately scowled. “Oh, God. You’re going to keep calling me that, aren’t you?”
“What is it you want?” he asked.
“A better name,” I said. “Swan. Apple Girl. Even Princess is cruel with your tone.”
He stepped forward, pretending to fiddle with the saddle, but I suspected it was more about pressing his chest to my back, and reminding me of his scent and of his body, and of how he had felt against mine before.
If not for the intruding intervals of our company’s conversation bleeding into my thoughts, I might have turned around and shown him my response.
He was waiting, carefully; his breathing was loud.
“What do you want, Svana?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” I whispered back.
Cyrus swallowed. “I’m trying to get an idea for where I should lead us today. If you’re expecting a lot of privacy… or…?”
Willoughby destroyed the moment. “Let’s get on with it!” he cracked.
He mounted his horse, and both he and Jocelyn were ready to ride. Cyrus agreed, reluctantly, collecting me at the hips and hoisting me onto Ice’s back. She puffed, shaking her head a little, and after a second of just holding his hands in front of her, she calmed down.
“This should be… interesting,” he said.
“Interesting? What does that mean?” I asked.
He glanced at me, uncommitted to giving his full attention as he went back to watch the mare a moment longer.
“Just… Mind the reins.” Cyrus climbed onto Edith, never taking his eyes off my horse.
Beside me, he nodded too quickly. “Alright then.” Then he looked at Willoughby.
“Should we see the Willow trees, Ser Willoughby?”
Josie shot me a glance; I shook my head.
My cousin caught something of the exchange, but when he looked from me to her, they both relaxed.
He scanned the shape of her face, like a moth circling a torch, and I was impressed by how successful my con had become.
For the entire first half of our group’s excursion, he was sufficiently distracted and never too far away from his maid.
When we arrived at Willow’s Grove, the long patch of closely planted trees, their branches swung softly in the wind, undisturbed by our trespass as we went through.
“Oh,” I breathed. “I’m not sure we have anywhere like this back home.”
Willoughby leaned one way, then the other, considering. “What about the harbor? Much livelier, really. But it has its trees in town proper.”
“I’ve never been,” I said.
Cyrus ducked to avoid a branch. “The last time I was in Harbourtown, it was overrun with criminals, not trees.”
“When were you there last?” he asked. “There are crabapples along the strip.”
“In Autumn,” Cyrus said. “I saw no crabapples, and some kid pick-pocketed me.”
“Part of the experience,” my cousin said, tickled.
“Aye, the experience,” the other parroted. “I lost a good knife, you know?”
“They might be orange in Autumn,” Willoughby explained. “Or leafless. I can’t recall.”
“Is that not your father’s territory?” he asked.
“Aye, but his seat is more north.”
“I have never been to Harbourtown either,” Josie chimed. “Never left ísfjall, except for now.”
I turned. “Never? What about North áire?”
“I wasn’t with you when you were there last,” she said.
“Really?” I asked.
“Aye. I was still at my mistress’s estate.”
“Oh. I suppose you’re right. Of course you are, anyway,” I said.
“Where was your mistress from?” Cyrus asked.
“What?” she asked.
“Your mistress?” he asked. “She was in ísfjall? Who’s that make her? Are there many ladies in King’s Land these days?”
“Oh. No,” she hurried. “Sorry, I meant I’ve never left ísfjall since I’ve arrived, is all,” she said.
“Huh.” I pondered it. “I thought—”
Willoughby asked, “Your lady was in Lawrence, wasn’t she?”
She shifted. “I’m sorry?”
“No?” he asked. He canted his head.
“How did you come to that conclusion?” she asked.
He gestured indifferently. “You talked about a flower shop once. It’s in Lawrence.”
Josie bit her lip. “I did?”
“Yes,” he said. “Barrow Rose,” he said. “I’m familiar with it.
There’s another location in the Harbor, but a woman I knew once placed her orders in Lawrence.
I’ve been a time or two for her to pick things up.
It’s not far from the manor. In fact, I could have crossed your path before.
Though I do think I would remember that. ”
Josie frowned, and I cleared my throat at the idea of women around my cousin. “Anyway, áire was years ago. Hellveig was alive,” I said. “She received some honor from the school.”
“Hellveig,” Willoughby muttered. “Witch. Served her right what happened,” he said.
For a moment, I didn’t speak. He added a few more of her character flaws into the banter, explaining to his Jocelyn just how horrible she had been, but without the deeper details—the details he could never know, and for some undetermined reason, the whole thing felt intrusive.
It bothered me to the core. Willoughby hadn’t known my governess, not like I had.
He’d met her once or twice. His information, while shallowly accurate, could have only been curated from word of mouth, and I-
“Svana?” Josie whispered.
She looked at my hands; my knuckles were white from how tightly I held my reins. I made them relax.
“It was a terrible accident,” I reminded her. “I’m afraid she fell down the stairs.”
Willoughby said, “Or a rightfully vulgar death for such a vulgar woman. Stairs are not a pleasant means. I wonder if she thought about her wrongs on the way down.”
“I don’t think she thought of anything; it was an accident,” I said.
Josie nodded, determinedly, and she reinforced my statement, louder than I had given it. “A terrible accident. I’ve heard that story. She slipped on the landing, I think; Elías found her.”
With that, her knight agreed. “You’re right. It's unbecoming to speak so ill of the departed. I apologize, Your Highness, Miss Jocelyn. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I wasn’t bothered,” Cyrus told him.
“I didn’t apologize to you,” he whispered.
The canopy of flowers above us ended with the last of the grove, and without their shroud, the sun beat down onto my cheeks.
I closed my eyes to take the moment to cleanse myself of Miss Hellveig, but Isaac had other plans.
Her head whipped suddenly. Yet, before she could make a scene of it, Cyrus’ fist closed over mine, and he pulled the lead back sharply. Ice stopped.
“Off,” he told me.
“Are you mad?” I asked. “She made a little fuss, and you-” She moved again. I reached forward to brush her hair, but that made it worse. “She’s fine.”
Edith whinnied, and then Ice. Then Cyrus frowned.
“This is as good a spot as any,” he told Ser Willoughby, who slowed Josie and Tails.
Cyrus’s eyes were stern.
I scoffed. “If you expect me just to stop every time she gets a little uncomfortable, how will we break her?” I asked. “You told me the process, and while I remember maybe half of it, I’m certain discomfort was a part of it all.”
He waited, eyes traveling to my cousin, who’d appeared at my side to help me down.
I made a big deal about relinquishing the reins to the sword as I left Ice’s back, but not with the help of Ser Willoughby.
I dismounted all on my own, and while I did stumble when I met the dirt, and promptly twisted my ankle, I was able to right myself by spite.
I fell toward Josie as she worked to lay our blanket. Then we sat.
She leaned in. “Are you alright?”
“Quite,” I said.
She smiled. “Mr. Evergreen is being protective. That’s good.”
“Annoying, actually,” I said.
She laughed. The boys bound the horses and came to be with us.
“Does Svana not look beautiful today?” she asked my Sword.
“Jocelyn!” I cried.
But Cyrus said, “As always.” Then added, “On the insistence of Daniel here, I’ve brought red wine for us to enjoy.” He looked directly at me, and I was upset by how disarming the joke we shared had felt.
Ser Willoughby nudged his arm. “You can tease me all you want, but at least I know what I like. And when you’ve lived as long as I have, that becomes the quality of a man, not his fault.”
“As long as you have?” I poked. “You’re twenty.”
“Twenty-three, cousin,” he said. “I’m your elder.”
“Oh, twenty-three,” I returned. “Yes. Quite elderly, Ser. Should you need a cane soon?”
“I’ve seen death, and war, and the effects of not treating oneself to enough red wine. So I’ll thank you for the humor, and ask that you pass the bottle this way, yeah?”
“Twenty and three and so harsh?” Cyrus asked. He handed it over. “Is that what I sound like? I’ve seen the same.”
“Ser Willoughby isn’t harsh,” Josie said. “He’s just…” She lost herself in what must have been a fantasy, finally adding, “Aged. Like the wine.”
Mr. Evergreen and I shared a look.
“Do we get cheese today?” I asked.