CHAPTER 27
Keenan
Keenan let his eyes wander across the rocky, scrubby ground stretched out in front of him. He could see a patch of green in the distance: the plains where his worthless map put the tinderbox.
He couldn’t wait to reach it. A miracle oil in Oliver’s pack had kept his boots from turning impossibly stiff after their dip, but the layer of dirt between his boots and the rock had grown thinner as they reached the edge of the mountain range.
His knees were ready to have a little more cushion for each step.
Besides, the sooner he could retrieve the old tinderbox, the sooner he could give it to the queen and ease his mind about Liesl’s safety.
And finally escape the presence of a princess who despised him.
She shifted in her saddle, then angled her horse in front of him, forcing him to stutter-step or crash into the horse’s flank.
“There is a stream in this direction where we may refill our water skins,” she announced.
Before she cut him off, her hands had been sitting in her lap, a droop to her face that hadn’t been visible in her perfectly straight shoulders.
Now, she held the reins as if she were out for a pleasant afternoon ride, looking as fresh as one of Miss Beatrice’s geraniums stretching to meet the sun.
Her fox bounded ahead, leaping over the rocks in its rollicking gait.
Keenan trudged glumly behind. He wouldn’t mind a break, but the princess still insisted that he help her into and out of the saddle.
Every single time, even though she was as warm as a winter storm and he dropped her waist as soon as she was stable.
When they reached the rivulet, she pulled her horse to a stop and fixed her imperious gaze on him.
After more than a week of traveling together, his hands found her waist without a second thought.
Her hands trembled against his biceps, but he ignored it, just as they had ignored each other for the last few days.
Whatever she was selling, he wasn’t buying it.
“Keenan.” Her fingers spasmed around his arms as he released her. He tried to step back, but she held on, leaning into him. “Just for a few moments. Please.”
Grabbing her shoulders, he started to push her back. “For what? I’m not—”
His hands slipped down to her elbows, a muttered oath escaping as she slumped forward into his chest. Her face should have been flushed after a couple days in full sun, but it was pale except for the bags under her eyes.
They were deeper than the last time he’d bothered to look. Why hadn’t Kasumi said anything?
Why hadn’t the princess?
“Princess, are you all right?” Her black eyes were glazed, and he liked that even less than her hearty disdain.
“I’m fine,” she murmured. A single tear trailed down the side of her cheek. “I just need a moment to get my feet under me.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist to support her better. “This is not fine, Princess,” he argued. “You can’t even stand!”
“I’m sorry for pushing you into the waterfall,” she said softly, sagging against him. “And for pushing you away since. I was angry and jealous, and it was childish of me.”
“Heavens, she’s delirious,” Keenan muttered. “Oliver! Oliver, what do I do?”
The guard ran over as Keenan sank to one knee. He cradled the princess against his chest while Oliver set a hand on her shoulder and examined her face. After a minute, Oliver sank back on his heels, something in his expression loosening as his hand dropped away.
“What’s wrong with her?” Keenan demanded.
“She hasn’t been sleeping well?” Oliver phrased it as a question, lifting an eyebrow as he looked at the princess’s maid.
Kasumi wrung her hands. “Camping is so different from what she’s used to,” she worried. “But she said she was fine!”
“Haven’t you been her maid for several years?” Keenan snapped. “The perfect princess is always ‘fine.’”
Instead of responding, Kasumi simply pressed her hands to her mouth.
“Peace, Keenan,” Oliver gently admonished. “She is exhausted, but rest should fix that. We’ll camp here, then continue in the morning.”
“If she’s that tired, why is she struggling to sleep?” Keenan asked. “Shouldn’t that make it easier?”
The guard shrugged. “Sometimes, it only makes it harder. I have something in my pack that will help her sleep more readily.”
Keenan shook his head. “How does your pack not weigh a ton? You seem to have something in there for everything.”
Oliver simply lifted an eyebrow and didn’t offer an explanation.
“Where do you think she would be comfortable for now?” Keenan scanned the rocky ground. “I’ll set her down, and then I can—”
“No.” A hand latched onto his collar. “You’re comfortable.”
He looked up at Oliver in distress, but to his surprise, the guard merely lifted an eyebrow, watching with something akin to amusement.
“What do I do?” Keenan asked helplessly.
The hand on his shirt tightened. “Please,” the princess murmured. “Just for a minute.”
“Looks like you’re a pillow,” Oliver said, turning away. “Mori and I will handle things.”
What happened to Oliver as his ally against the insanity of Princess Sakura being in love with him?
Sighing, Keenan watched the other three members of their party set to work.
He slipped an arm under the princess’s knees, then stood and carried her over to his pack.
Awkwardly moving his sword aside, he lowered himself to the ground and settled her in his lap, using the pack to prop himself up.
She snuggled closer, nestling her head against the hardened leather covering his chest.
“That can’t be comfortable.” Leaning forward, he found the opening of his pack and tugged his spare shirt free.
“But you are,” she mumbled, letting him lift her head to put his balled-up shirt under her temple. “And kind, and funny…”
He chuckled. “You’re going to be so upset with yourself tomorrow.”
“…and you have beautiful blue eyes.” She sighed. “I like your eyes.”
He stiffened, but he didn’t move. She wasn’t saying it to upset him. “I hate my eyes.”
“Why?” she drowsily replied. “They’re nice.”
Instead of replying, Keenan scooted forward so that he could recline a bit more. “You should go to sleep, Princess,” he whispered.
“I’m fine,” she insisted weakly. “I only need a few moments.”
She started to lift her head, so he used his free hand to gently place it back against his chest. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time. It’s all right to not be fine.”
“Maybe for you. But for me…the queen has to be…”
Her voice trailed off as he lightly stroked her silky black hair. It was smooth under his fingers. He told himself he kept up the soothing movements because her breathing slowed and deepened under their influence.
But he couldn’t deny that he also liked the feel of it under his fingertips. Even if he shouldn’t.
At some point during the afternoon, Princess Sakura’s little fox wandered over to dab his nose at hers. Keenan ran a hand over Bunta’s coarse fur. “She’s just taking a nap. She’ll be all right.”
The fox’s little paws pressed into Keenan’s thigh as he sniffed her eyes. Then whipping in a circle, he dashed away to investigate something else.
“You see?” Keenan murmured, brushing a knuckle across her cheek. “Your fox doesn’t care about your image. Those who care about you want you to take care of yourself.”
She didn’t stir at his touch, staying as peaceful and contented as if she were curled in the finest feather bed in her castle.
Keenan’s posterior was sore from the rocky ground by the time Oliver brought him some bean soup for supper. The guard raised a questioning eyebrow when Keenan accepted the bowl with one hand.
“I don’t want to disturb her,” he explained. “Every time I move my arm, she burrows in.”
Oliver shook his head, the tiniest hint of a smile at the edge of his lips, and returned to the others.
Keenan lifted the bowl to his mouth and blew across the surface to cool the soup.
Then he took a careful sip, trying not to slurp so he wouldn’t wake the princess sleeping on his chest. Perhaps he shouldn’t worry about her needs; after all, she’d been giving him the cold shoulder for days, and he had no idea why.
But when her defenses were down, she’d reached for him.
He didn’t understand that either. Shouldn’t try to, because a more-than-friendly relationship between a princess and a weapon-smith only ended one way. Especially in a kingdom where such a pairing had consequences.
Kasumi’s words from their first walk in the garden came back to him. “More than one way to protect someone,” he murmured.
He couldn’t let himself care for her in that way. But she needed a friend who would let her make mistakes. Perhaps he could protect her by protecting her from herself.