Chapter 13 #2
“Pony rides, yes. But not the chariot. The chariot is most certainly not something you would have experienced as a child, sir. That particular detail only ran one year after it broke a wheel and…” I did the math. “You were in attendance two years ago?”
He shook his head. “No, I must be mistaken.”
The Prince whistled slowly. I looked at him.
“Do you have a comment, Your Highness?”
They shared a look.
“Sameer?” I demanded.
At my command, he spoke, barely faster than he processed his friend’s protest against it. “Didn’t you vanish around that time?”
“Vanish?” I asked.
“That’s dramatic,” Cyrus said.
Sam shrugged. “You were gone for a month.”
Cyrus was unconvinced. “A month? Two weeks at best.”
“It’s a week of travel,” I said. “Plus a week of the Faire. A week back.” I counted on my hand. “A month give or take.”
He was clearly trying to construct some lie. He took his time.
“Give or take,” he said finally. “And I didn’t vanish. I didn’t stay the week. I stayed a day.”
“A day?” I asked. “You traveled two weeks to stay a day?”
“Frankly, love, I’m not sure how deeply you wish to pry. There’s only one reason a man travels so far for so little,” Sam said.
“Sam,” Cyrus begged.
“What reason?” I asked.
Sam shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t think he wants me to disclose that to you.”
I clicked my tongue. “What was the reason, sir?”
Sam sighed.
Evergreen shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past.”
The Prince said, “As all skeletons should be.”
“Skeletons? Mr. Evergreen has a skeleton?” I asked. “What skeleton? Like a body?”
“A body? No, a lover,” Sam said. “Have you not heard that expression? Skeletons in your wardrobe?”
“Why are the lovers skeletons? Why are they in the wardrobe? Do you kill them or something?” I asked.
“Sam. Please.” Cyrus rolled his eyes. “Is this really the conversation we should have with your intended?”
“No one kills the—I suppose that is an odd expression,” Sam said. “But no. ‘Skeletons’ means lovers.”
“Trust me, Her Highness cares not for my skeletons,” Evergreen said. “Alleged skeletons, I’ll thank you. Anyway, the trip was short lived and, as I said, it’s in the past. I think we can move on.”
“Were you not with Miss Swift then?” I asked.
He didn’t respond.
“Who can recall so long ago?” Sam tried.
“Brilliant, thanks,” Cyrus said.
I felt duped somehow. Before I knew it, Sam had linked his arm in mine. He made a point to wave at someone on the other side of our aisle. I let him lay my hand over his, to sell the display. In doing it, I realized just how shaky I had become. Sam noticed, too.
“Are you well, my love?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” I said.
Cyrus opened his mouth to say something but then he didn’t.
“You won’t hear much else,” Sam said. “I’ve been begging for years. He never speaks of her, whoever it was.”
“Sameer!” Cyrus spat.
Sam chuckled, unfazed by his scolding. He patted my hand. “We’ve struck a nerve, it seems.”
“I see,” I said.
Cyrus shook his head. “I’m pretty sure I said I went for swords.”
Sam nodded. “Something like that.”
Mr. Evergreen turned his back to us and trekked several yards ahead to inspect a different booth. I felt his frustration thickly in the air. He breathed out, and in, then deeper as he discovered the daggers he’d been looking for. Then he started to pick up and inspect each one.
Sam whispered in my ear. “I have my suspicions, if you want to hear them.”
“It’s really not our business,” I muttered.
He gave them anyway. “He would kill me if I told you, but Cy is really sensitive. I offered to go with him to your empire; he told me he wanted to go alone. He rode. He didn’t even accept my carriage.
Honestly, I think he was in correspondence with another woman.
I think he left to court her, and I do think he was quite taken with her, despite his courtship to Miss Swift.
Who knows what happened? Maybe when he saw her, she was hideous or a con, somehow?
All I know is that he came back so depressed. I didn’t see him for several days.”
My chest felt heavy. “That’s horrible.”
“He proposed to Lydia that week.”
I frowned. “That week? But that doesn’t make sense. If he went to meet someone else… No, no our Cyrus isn’t that sort of man. He's a romantic.”
“That’s what I’m saying. I think whatever bird he went to see was who he really wanted. I think she rejected him, so he came home.”
“Your Highness, Mr. Evergreen told me he loved Miss Swift,” I said. “Or, at least that he felt affection for her. He said he was hurt when they parted ways. Your suspicion is incorrect. I don’t know where the flaw is, I’ll concede, but there is a flaw somewhere.”
Sam looked surprised. “He told you all that?”
I nodded.
“I must say, I…” He inclined his head. “I’m flattered you have invested such time and effort into my best friend. Thank you. Oh! Bags! I promised Aggy I’d look for one she saw last night. Excuse me.”
Sam departed from my side, closely eyeing the pretty satchels at an adjacent booth. I waited a second, then followed after Evergreen.
He still looked tense. I thought to tease him, to lighten the air but wasn’t sure how.
“Was she pretty?” I asked, arriving to his left. “Your skeleton?”
Cyrus didn’t answer. He muttered a number to the salesman instead. “Fifteen.”
“It’s marked twenty-two,” the man returned. He flipped the dagger in Mr. Evergreen's hand to show him its price.
“Seventeen?” he asked.
“He just said it’s twenty-two,” I said, pointing to the tag. “It’s right there.”
Cyrus looked at me.
The seller said, “Twenty. Since she’s your wife.”
“I’m not his wife,” I said.
The seller shrugged. “Fine. Twenty-two.”
“Twenty is too high,” Evergreen said.
“It’s Damascus,” the merchant replied.
“Oh! I love Damascus," I shared.
Cyrus sighed. “Love?” He pointed toward the aisle. “Go stand over there, would you?”
I scoffed.
He addressed the merchant again. “It might be Damascus but it’s not a sword; it’s a boot dagger at best.”
“Mr. Evergreen,” I said.
He turned a little, with a plain, “Yes.”
“Yes?” I asked.
“Yes. She was pretty,” he said. He spun the dagger, titling it to check its balance.
“Look, it’s twenty or not yours,” the merchant told him.
“I’ve got eighteen,” Cyrus said.
“Prettier than me?” I asked.
“Eurgh,” the seller made a sound.
“No. That would be impossible,” Evergreen replied. He set the dagger down and placed his hand on the small of my back, moving us on.
The merchant stopped him. “You don’t want it?”
“Not for twenty,” he said.
“Are you so cheap?” I asked.
Cyrus did a double take. “Did you take a job with this man, Your Highness?”
I frowned. “No.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“It’s a good deal,” the seller said. “That dagger took me forever.”
Cyrus sized him up. Then shook his head. “You didn’t forge this blade”
“Yes, I did!”
“No.” Cyrus turned it over. “The smith’s mark is right here. This is not your mark. It doesn’t even match the other ones you have. They’re all different. I don’t know where this dagger came from, or how you’ve come to have it, but I have met this man. You’re not him.”
“Well, he’s a friend,” he said.
“What’s his name?”
“Fine. Eighteen,” the seller said.
Cyrus laughed. “For a stolen dagger? Hilarious. I’ve got twelve and I won’t tell this crowd about your swindling.”
“There’s no way I’m doing twelve!” he said.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” I huffed. I dug into my pouch and retrieved the eighteen copper, loudly—and accidentally— slamming it onto the peddler’s cloth.
He scooped it into a sack before Mr. Evergreen could stop him.
With pride, I took the dagger and looked it over.
Cyrus arched a brow. “You overpaid for that,” he said. He moved us on.
“You know the maker,” I said. “It’s not important to you?”
He smirked. “I don’t know the maker, love.”
“But you said-”
“I say a lot of things,” he replied. “And I would’ve gotten that for twelve had you not meddled.”
“But you were walking away?” I said.
“Was I?” he asked.
His eyes went over my back, but when I looked to see if Sam was there, he wasn’t. Mr. Evergreen replaced his hand where it had been and led me around a corner of the bazaar. It was gone as soon as we arrived at a shop.
“That, um, that feels good. I like it when you touch me,” I said.
He quirked a brow, resting his hand on the knob of the door. “As happy as I am to hear those words, do me a favor and don’t flaunt your wealth like that again.”
“Ugh. Here,” I told him, handing him the knife.
“You’re giving it to me?” he asked.
“Yes.” I scoffed.
“Why?”
“I wasn’t flaunting my wealth; I thought the blade was special to you. That’s why I bought it. It’s not like it’s for me.”
Cyrus wet his bottom lip. He took the dagger and put it into his belt near the sword, then nodded, quickly opening the door and taking me inside. It was a quiet boutique, save for the bell above the door that chimed as we passed through.
“Just a moment!” someone called.
“Svana,” he said.
“I’m sorry that I misunderstood your bargaining technique,” I said. “Please don’t feel as though you have to keep the dagger.”
“Are you kidding? The blade’s Damascus. I’ll cherish it,” he said.
“You will?” I asked.
“Yes. Thank you.”
I looked up at his jaw and took in his scent with a confident breath, pleased to be so close. The idea of Sameer somewhere outside as Cyrus and I exchanged gifts and longing drove me mad. But then we heard shoes and he stepped away and off the shop’s little step onto the tile floor.
“Do you want ribbon or something?” Cyrus asked.
“Ribbon?” I looked around. It was a modiste.
“Cyrus?” a woman asked, followed deftly by, “A-And the Princess. Princess Svana, Your Royal Highness. Hello.” She hurried to put order to whatever was at her counter. “Such a surprise. Was there something wrong with your delivery, Your Highness?”
“Miss Swift?” I asked.
Another lady came up from the back. Lydia handed her a folded garment. Her companion immediately curtsied to me upon receiving it.
“Lydia,” Cyrus said. He gave her a pleasant smile. “Hi.”
“Hi?” I asked.
She shifted. Cyrus cleared his throat.
“There’s nothing wrong with the delivery,” he said. “Her Highness and I are out today. With Sam.”
“Yes! …Shopping,” I hurried. “You have lovely work,” I said. I grabbed something off display in front of me, to break the air, then panicked, discovering the bralette I’d picked up. In complete mortification, I dropped it.
Mr. Evergreen bent over, collected it and set it back onto the shelf. He glared at me.
The modiste took a pained breath, and I felt responsible for bringing him in to terrorize her, or…. Or did he want to see her? On purpose?
I tried not to stare at him, I searched for anything, anyone else in the room.
Save for the shop girl who had vanished, Lydia was alone.
She excused herself, then returned with something from the back, and it wasn’t long before I tried to analyze her for some further purpose, but all I could realize was that she had pretty hair, a pretty face, and pretty manners.
Her curls hung just above her shoulders, and we were all very aware of the moment that existed between them.
“I finished your emblem, Your Highness,” she said, handing me my handkerchief.
The Eisson crest was perfectly repaired, hand-stitched and back to its full embellished pride. Then I was jealous of her careful work, and worse, when I went to thank her, I caught an awful exchange of longing glances between her and my Cyrus.
She bowed her head, embarrassed.
“…Would you like to see our new swatches?” she asked.
“No,” the both of us replied. Then, I realized.
“Oh,” I said. “You meant him… That explains why you are so well-dressed, Cyrus. Mister. Mr. Evergreen.”
Her attention came back. “Would you like to try on that lingerie?” she asked, gesturing to the shelf. “I need your measurements anyway. Might as well collect them now.”
“Oh, uhm,” I half-whimpered, half-giggled awkwardly. “No,” I said, horrified at the thought. “No, no. No, I don’t… I don’t think I should be needing linger—” I gulped. “Lingerie.”
“Not for the order?” she asked.
“W-What order?”
Cyrus cleared his throat. “I believe Miss Swift is inquiring upon your wedding night designs, Your Highness.”
I felt pale.
“If you prefer something special, I could create a new set. Let me grab my measuring tape.” Lydia spun.
“No, no,” I begged, stopping her. “No, thank you but no... Mr. Evergreen is here and… Excuse me.”
With a long, disorienting step toward the door, I gracefully stumbled out.