Chapter 16 #3
But then she immediately wished she hadn’t said anything.
Who was she to think the prince needed to know of her escape?
He would find out anyway. And she wasn’t even one of his parents’ choices for his bride.
This would have to be their last walk spent together.
The choice of who his future wife, Rosie knew, would be made soon.
“Oh no,” he said with a frown as she turned away from him.
He put the basket down, took her shoulders in his large hands, and turned her to look at him.
“You can’t say something like that and then let it hang in the air.
Rose, what is it that you need protecting from? Is it the troll? Or the court?”
Rosie nearly sighed when he said her name that way. So simple. So lovely. Like she truly was a fine lady, and… and that he cared for her. Like the caress of a feather. A soft kiss through the air. Not Rose Red. Not Lady Rose. Not even Rosie.
Just Rose.
But he was still staring at her, waiting for her explanation, and Rosie’s throat suddenly felt thick, and swallowing was painful. “Jonathan,” she said softly, forcing words out anyway “You’re the crown prince. You don’t need–”
“Tell me,” he urged her–pleaded with her, his fingers tightening on her shoulders. “I want to know. Please!”
Rosie closed her eyes and licked her suddenly-dry lips. “I’m aware that your parents are likely to announce your betrothal soon.”
When she opened her eyes again, they stung, and the world was slightly watery. “I’m not a dunce, Jonathan. Everyone knows your parents–your mother especially–favor Miss Marianne.”
At the other lady’s name, his blue eyes hardened, but Rosie went on.
“If… If Miss Marianne is chosen, and I remain at the palace, there will be war. Not a literal one, of course, with soldiers and weapons and all that. But one that hurts people, nonetheless.”
Jonathan gritted his teeth. “I would never let her–”
“She tried to kill me yesterday, Jonathan,” Rosie whispered, giving him a sad smile. “She offered my life to the troll.”
He stared at her for another eternal moment before he let go of her and picked up the basket. Then he stared at it as though unsure what to do with the thing. His jaw trembled slightly, and he blinked rapidly several times.
“I refuse to become the subject and cause of a royal family rift,” Rosie continued. “People would choose sides. No good would come of it.”
The prince said nothing. She could see him trying desperately to find something–anything to say. And it warmed and broke her heart at the same time.
“It’s true,” she whispered. And though she knew it was improper–for no one should assume the liberty to touch a royal–she couldn’t help herself. He just looked so… so sad.
Slowly, gently, she reached out and put her hand on his lower arm, where he had rolled up the lower sleeve. His muscles were hard beneath her touch, and his skin felt far too warm. “You know it’s true,” she said softly before letting go.
As she spoke, though, she couldn’t help wondering why he seemed to care so much.
He’d known her for less than a month. And while, yes, in her own village, she’d been viewed as rather accomplished and notably pretty, she couldn’t compete with the private tutoring or high fashion training many women of the court received–as Lady Sandra had so delicately pointed out.
She couldn’t speak other languages, nor had she training in politics beyond what Natalie had given her.
She could hardly attend a palace supper without stirring the pots of gossip and malice.
She was too honest, as her sister liked to tease her, and she had neither breeding nor polish.
“How much more do you need?” he asked in a thick voice, nodding down to the basket.
Rosie realized now that the basket was over half full.
“This will be quite enough,” she said, forcing a smile. “Shall we return?”
They turned and began walking slowly back toward the castle, each lost in his or her own thoughts.
Perhaps, she told herself, he was upset because he was a man, and good men, in her experience, didn’t like wrongs to go unrighted. From what she had witnessed of him, he was a just man, and it was indeed unjust for anyone to be chased away from one’s family simply for existing.
But could it… Might it possibly be something more?
“You asked me about my preferences in a husband,” she said, trying to make her voice sound light and teasing as they left the orchards and made their way through the garden. “Do you have any preferences for any of the girls your parents might choose?”
“It doesn’t really matter,” he said, his voice suddenly filled with a surprising amount of venom. “My parents will choose the one they prefer either way.”
She glanced up at his face, but he was glowering at the ground.
Was it possible that he was wishing Rosie could be one of their choices? In a way, she hoped it was. But if she was right, it would only mean pain for both of them, and she didn’t wish this good man any more pain.
Perhaps, she thought as they made their way to the kitchens, it would be better if they both stayed quiet.