CHAPTER 51
Keenan
Keenan stared at himself in the mirror. The dark blue cloak seemed cumbersome for dancing, but it helped conceal the fact that he was wearing his sword belt.
The belt probably wasn’t proper attire for a ball, and the dagger at the back of his waist was going to make sitting in the stiff wooden chair at supper uncomfortable.
However, after two weeks with nothing but his fists to protect himself – not that it had been necessary in the castle – he wasn’t ready to set his weapons aside just yet.
“I’m honor-bound to inform you, milord, that those do not qualify as ceremonial.”
Keenan glanced up at his new valet’s reflection. He would have gladly gone without, but Saito’s assistance did give noblemen like Chujiro less reason to harass the princess about her choice.
“Isn’t that what the cloak is for?” Keenan replied innocently, tugging the left side a little farther forward. His sword hilt kept trying to poke out, but he couldn’t adjust the belt and retain the ability to sit.
“No.” Saito crossed his arms over his chest and dipped his chin in a look reminiscent of Miss Beatrice. “Someone will notice, and then King Banri will feel threatened by your choice of attire and confiscate them again.”
Keenan sighed. Saito was probably correct; better to spend one more evening without them than to risk losing them for good.
When he emerged a few minutes later, he headed down the hall toward Sakura’s room. Queen Arisa had once again placed him in the royal wing; it was one of the few benefits of attaching himself to a princess instead of to another commoner.
The main benefit, of course, was the princess herself.
He knocked lightly on her door. A scrambling noise filtered through the wood, and Kasumi said something in a hurried voice. The princess made a muffled reply. Then…nothing.
Suddenly, the door swung open with regal pomp. Kasumi gave him a shallow curtsy, her eyes dancing when he rolled his eyes. “Good evening, milord. Your lady awaits.”
She waved him into the sitting room while he watched with bemusement. He’d never actually been in Sakura’s living quarters before; she always met him at the door. What were they up to?
Once he was inside, Kasumi gestured to one of the settees. “Please, have a seat. She’ll be with you in a moment.”
Keenan peered around Sakura’s sitting room.
Like much of the castle, it was richly appointed in shades of yellow, the darker parts creeping toward orange without quite reaching the color of their southern neighbor.
It made for a bright, cheerful space while quietly stating the power and influence of the occupant.
If Keenan were the sort to be intimidated by a room, this one would have done it.
The door to the connecting dressing room opened, and he turned his head at the soft sound of swishing fabric. He froze for a moment, and then he was on his feet. But that was as far as he got; his legs were suddenly working no better than his mouth.
Sakura stood in the doorway, watching him with a tiny smile playing around her lips. “I must have a word with Kasumi about the quality of people she admits into my quarters.”
He swallowed, dragging his eyes away from the dark yellow dress hugging her curves and the dainty silver tiara sparkling in her elaborately styled black hair. “Why is that?” he managed.
“Because I was expecting a common weapon-smith from Daraigh,” she primly replied, folding her hands at her waist and gliding toward him. “But if the clothes make the man, my mother found the Amitian prince that she claims has come to court me.”
Finally finding the strength to move his limbs, he walked slowly toward her, meeting her in the middle. “I’m not a prince.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Not yet.”
Reaching forward, he paused a few inches from her waist. She was almost too perfect to touch. And he still couldn’t quite believe that the perfect princess had unwound enough to betroth herself to him. Especially given what it cost her.
“You’re gorgeous,” he breathed, letting his hands drift close enough for his fingers to trail over the soft fabric at her sides. She inhaled sharply, just a quick, short breath that he barely heard, but enough to pull away from his fingers.
“I appreciate your approval,” she said in a slightly breathier tone than usual. “But perhaps you should escort me to dinner before we are late for our own betrothal celebration?”
“Was that the point of this?”
She snorted. The un-princess-like sound was beautiful. “Haven’t you been listening?”
“Yes! But I must have missed that part,” he admitted sheepishly. Then he moved half a step closer, sliding his hands across her waist to link at her back. “But if that’s the reason, shouldn’t we…kiss, or something?”
Lips twitching, she set her hands on his chest and gently pushed him away. “No, we should not. We wish to be on time, remember? Now, your arm, if you please.”
He stepped back and offered it with a grin. “Of course, ma’am.”
“I’m not a ma’am.”
“Not yet.”
Her hand froze halfway to him. Then she smiled. “Not yet,” she repeated, wrapping her hand around his forearm. “But soon.”
It was a bit wild to consider. He was getting married.
To a princess.
And he had barely more than a month to come to his senses.
“Maybe I should write to Miss Beatrice,” he said abruptly as they strolled down the hall. “She probably can’t come, but I imagine she’d appreciate knowing why it might be a bit before I find my way home.”
“I’m sure she would appreciate that,” Sakura said, a hint of wryness in her voice. “Since apparently you did not mention it in your last letter?”
“Last letter?” Keenan shook his head. “I haven’t written at all yet.”
“Not since we reached Kurowan?” Sakura asked, her eyes widening.
He shrugged. “Not since I left home. I didn’t think about it in the first couple of weeks, and I haven’t had the chance since. It’s not like I was going to ask the princess who hated me or her mother who believed I was a prince for supplies and permission to write a letter home.”
“You couldn’t find a single moment in the last two weeks to ease her mind regarding your safety, let alone inform her of your rapidly approaching marriage?”
He shrugged again. “I’ve had other things on my mind. Like the sword and dagger I only got back today—” he reached up and squeezed her hand on his arm— “missing friends, making sure I can keep a certain something safe—”
She lightly batted his arm. “Point made. But this must be remedied, weapon-smith. First thing tomorrow, before you disappear out to the forge.”
“Now you sound like my mother,” he groaned. “‘You know the rules, Keenan. Finish your homework first, then you can go play.’”
She laughed, a soft, delicate sound. “And I suppose you heard it from Miss Beatrice as well?”
“Sometimes. But it was actually Master Elias who handled most of my education.”
He bowed his head, feeling the familiar pain at the thought of his foster father.
It had dimmed somewhat in the months since Master Elias’s loss, but in some ways, it was as fresh as the day he came home to find Miss Beatrice stoically choking back her sobs.
He suspected it would never fully fade, but that was all right. He wouldn’t want it to.
Something else twisted in his chest as he thought of those lost. He’d only known Liesl for two weeks, but she’d been such a bright, cheerful thing. It didn’t seem right that she was gone.
“I should have insisted on going back down the mountain,” he muttered to himself. “Maybe that would have kept her away from the ogre, even if it didn’t save us from the bandits.”
“What was that?”
He looked over at the princess in surprise. “Just…thinking out loud.”
“About Liesl again?” she clarified, the sympathy in her eyes saying she already knew.
He shrugged as if it didn’t matter.
“Don’t run,” she said suddenly, gripping his arm with both hands. “Please, Keenan. Promise you won’t run off to look for her.”
He stopped walking so he could meet her eyes. “I intend to find out what happened to her, Sakura. Just because no one has ever returned from the pass doesn’t mean they’ve all died.”
“But they’re still not here,” she whispered. “What good is it if you’re alive but trapped in the Valley of Kakureta?”
“I don’t intend to be caught,” he said simply. “But don’t worry, I’ll tell you before I leave. I’ll even take guards with me if you insist.” He shifted, wrapping her hands up in his. “But I will be going, Princess. I can’t not.”
Pressing her lips together, she bowed her head and nodded. “I should expect no less from a man who would run after a baby dragon to keep her safe from an illusion.”
“It’s all right, Princess,” he soothed. “I’m not planning to get lost.”
“You didn’t plan to lose your friends either,” she murmured, not looking at him.
He knew she didn’t mean to hurt him, so he shoved away the anger that her comment stirred and forced a smile. “I’m not going anywhere right now. So why don’t we enjoy the celebration tonight and table this discussion for later?”
“Yes, you are correct.” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes as if resetting her mental focus. “We should not have a harsh disagreement on the way to our betrothal celebration.”
Keenan secretly hoped they would have few sharp disagreements at any point, given the quality of his temper.
But since he didn’t want to discuss the positive aspects of the worst feature he’d inherited from his father any more than he wanted to argue about his search for Liesl, he simply pressed her hands before continuing down the hall.
He resolutely ignored the tug toward Cherry’s twig in his trouser pocket. He’d promised Sakura that he wasn’t leaving yet, and he meant it. If Liesl was still alive, she would have to wait a little longer.