Chapter 15
Despite Miss Jocelyn’s advice, and my own caution of my temper, by morning, I was very annoyed, and plagued by a dream that I had in which Cyrus told me nothing but lies. Isaac seemed to feel it, too, but she continued confidently, at my instruction—at least the parts she wanted to.
“Don’t get on too far ahead!” Cyrus called.
He and his mare trotted up next to us, closer than usual, apparently completely uninterested in decorum or what our friends thought. He took the lower portion of Isaac’s reins and pulled them back to slow her down.
I pursed my lips. “Beg your pardon! This is my horse.”
“You’re getting ahead again,” he said. He looked around at the forest that lined our solemn path.
“You’re the one who chose to ride Edith. Don’t be angry that I have the faster horse,” I said.
“Is that what you think this is?” He frowned. “I’m doing my best to keep you safe. The only reason we’re out here today is because I promised His Highness I would do just that. Keep you safe. He wanted you at the castle. If you want to keep riding, you’ll do well to behave.”
“Behave? They were just pickpockets,” I said. “I can’t imagine their schemes involve hiding in the trees.”
“Princess,” Willoughby said. “Surely you can forgive the man for being careful with your safety?” he asked. “There’s no harm in being cautious.”
“Harm or not,” I mumbled, yanking the strap free, “I can instruct my own horse.”
“Fine,” Cyrus said. He sat up. “When she bucks you, don’t cry to me.”
“I won’t cry at all; I’m not a child!” I said.
“Then don’t act like one!” he said.
He struck Edith’s back, guiding her ahead, and directly in front of Ice. When I tried to parry her around them, he gestured to Ice, and she slowed down at his command.
“Stop it!” I spat.
He wore a smug grin, and bent around to show it off. “I thought you could instruct your own horse, Your Highness?” he asked.
“Cyrus,” Willoughby warned.
They shared a look, and reluctantly, my swordsman moved to the side. I took my place back next to him and scowled, very deeply.
“Should we be paying more attention to the weather?” Josie asked.
The three of us looked back at her, dumbly following her as she pointed to the canopy overhead.
Through the tiny slithers between branches, the clouds had begun to darken, and, because only in that moment could it have happened, a loud roar out of the sky shocked us all, even the horses, but especially mine.
Each responded in various stages of fear. Cyrus, followed quickly by Ser Willoughby handled their steeds best. My cousin tried to settle Josie’s, but both Tails, and Ice reacted, casting their hooves into the air one after the other and practically howling, setting each other off.
Josie fell and Willoughby dismounted to help her as swiftly as it had happened, but Ice— despite my ability to somehow remain attached to her— clambered off the path and took flight, spiriting me away.
“Yeah! Yeah!” I heard Mr. Evergreen call.
He rode determinedly, and while he and his mount could barely be heard over the thundering commotion of everything—the horse, the storm, the pounding of my heart—I felt relieved somehow, knowing he was there.
Even if Isaac was the faster horse. And even if she was an uncontrolled, terrified horse, who’d taken me as her hostage.
No amount of trembling or patting hands against her mane, or pleading eased her.
I was left to accept fate as it would come, be it the rocky cliff or thrown and trampled, it was comforting to hear him yell after us.
Still, I bartered. “Ice! Please! Listen to me! You must slow down. You’re being ridiculous!”
Then suddenly, she reared a second time, screaming.
I held her reins as tightly as I could, until my hands hurt so badly I thought I would fall back.
But when the dirt she’d kicked into the air dissipated and her shoes struck the ground with two loud thuds, a figure appeared before us.
Isaac continued to pace around in a quick oval and then I saw that it was Mr. Evergreen that had startled her, somehow. He arrived there, as if by magic.
Cyrus rode up to her side and caught the leads in his hands, holding both horses with perfect control. Then smoothly and expertly, he passed from Edith’s saddle to Ice, and maneuvered into place behind me, forcing us all into a brutal full-stop.
“Whoaaa!” he told her. “Whoa.”
I struggled to catch my breath, equal parts mortified by the ride, and flushed by his flesh so close to mine. I could feel his heat through my dress.
“I’ve got you,” he said. He loosened a hand and brought it to my waist with another word of reassurance. “I’ve got you, love. You’re safe.”
I couldn’t move at first, until the second warning flash of lightning cracked across the sky and shook me. Cyrus resettled me with his palm, flat to my ribs. He urged me to his chest.
“I’ve got you, Swan.”
“I,” I started. “I can’t believe that happened!”
“Aye.”
“She just lost her mind!”
“Aye.”
“I—!” Instinctively, I shot my hand over his and laced my fingers through it, squeezing. His breath brushed against my shoulder in response.
“It’s alright,” he said. “I’m here.”
I turned my face. We were so close. He checked the sky and then the woods. “The storm’s close.”
“But I don’t see the others,” I said.
“Yeah. We need to find shelter,” he said, just as it began to rain. He shook his head. “Ser Willoughby will do the same for Josie. Come on.”
A few minutes later, we emerged from one end of the clearing where the chapel was. The wind whipped around us, pulling the flowers nearly from their beds, and taking branches from one side to the other of trees.
My hair and skirt joined whipped, too, unraveling key points of my braid to block my vision.
When we came off the horse, Cyrus groaned, toting me by the hand. “Stay close. Don’t let go,” he said.
“What about the girls?” I asked. “Our horses?”
“We’ll put them inside with us,” he said.
“In the church? It’s so small?”
“Where else then?” he asked, but when I pulled open the door, a burley gust launched into the stone facade with an equally powerful thud.
The crash startled them and Cyrus dropped the ties the moment they began to fight. Scared, they fled into the wilderness, despite our calls.
“Wait!” I yelled. “Cyrus! Why did you let go?” I started after, but he grabbed my arm.
“With respect, I didn’t want to be dragged,” he said. “Let them go!”
I paused at the image that invoked. “Dragged,” I repeated. My breath caught. “Right. Of course.”
The clouds broke then, pouring rain. He shook his head, then nodded to the church. “They’ll be alright, but we won’t. Come. Please.”
Mr. Evergreen shut the door behind us. He barred it with the large wooden beam, then made a comment about the wind. When he exhaled, he swept his face free of rain, and shook it from his hand.
“But they’ll be scared,” I said. “...The horses.”
“Not those two,” he replied. He tugged at and wrung the hem of his shirt, flashing me his skin. “They’re smart. They’ll find somewhere to ride it out. Don’t worry.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “What if-?”
“I’m sure, love,” he said. “It’s not the first storm they’ve seen. Won’t be their last.”
Mr. Evergreen’s dark gaze returned, falling from one end of me to the other, before I realized what caught his eye. My dress was soaked through in most of its parts. It clung to my frame the same way his clothes shaped him.
I moved to shield myself but his expression changed the moment my arms came up and I… paused, for some reason. I stood nervously, aching to define his look, and, unsure of anything, except the return of the spark, I relaxed and let him gaze at me.
The offer was not lost.
“That, uh… That is a very good look for you, Your Highness,” he said.
My cheeks flushed. “You can see everything,” I replied. “I should feel ashamed.”
He frowned at the admission. “Ashamed? No. Not… Your beauty is hardly shameful. I…” He looked again. “I can’t see everything, if it helps. Though, I can’t say I’m repulsed by what I can see.”
“You mean I…” I bit my lip. “...Are you suggesting that I look appealing to you, sir?”
“Yes.” He chuckled. “Though ‘appealing’ is hardly the word I’d select, Svana. Bewitching, though? Now there’s something to that. As bewitching the day we met,” he said.
Outside, the weather cracked like static, water beating upon the roof, and unrelentingly. After a fragile, quiet second, he walked to the credenza and removed the ornate cloth from beneath the prayer votives.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He wrapped it around my shoulders. “I’m drying you. You’ll catch your death,” he said. “I’m sure God will understand if I borrow this.”
He drew the fabric tighter and me with it, moving my body the same as he had for our first kiss.
“Mr. Evergreen….” I managed to say.
“Yes, Princess?”
“It’s dark,” I muttered.
He nodded and then he let go to pick up one of the matches and strike it into bloom. He carried it carefully shielded by his hand, to bring to life a few candles nearby. Their flames danced a beautiful orange across his features and cast his shadow broader and broader across the wall.
“We’ll be safe here,” he said.
His promise triggered Miss Jocelyn’s words. Quickly, I added, “You’re safe,” back, like he’d have any idea where that had come from. Like it made sense.
“What?” He turned.
“I, I said you’re safe,” I repeated.
He arched a brow, then scanned the chapel. “I know…?”
“No, I, I meant… with me.”
“...What?”
“I… I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to be honest with me, Mr. Evergreen, which you can do so because you are safe with me,” I said. “Do you understand?”
He nodded. “The words? Sure. Their meaning…?”
“…Why did you lie to me?” I asked. “Are we not friends? You don’t trust me?”
His expression furrowed. “Svana... I-?”
“You’re a soldier,” I explained. “And apparently a good one according to my knight.”
He was silent.