Caspian
They were in the middle of the market, surrounded by a litany of servants as they sought goods for the wedding.
Just now they’d been speaking with the florist. His attention had absently drifted to a bundle of vibrant orange flowers, their petals splayed out like stars.
Instead, Priscilla directed him to a bouquet of plump roses.
Their color was faint, nearly white if not for hints of pink.
The florist was looking between them with a nervous smile on her face.
“They are very f- very fine- Don’t you think?” she prompted again, a twinge of hurt in her eyes.
The florist bowed gratefully, and Priscilla spoke with the attendants about the proper arrangements.
The entire affair would be orchestrated by craftsmen from Llyndale and the surrounding villages.
It had been her suggestion, and a thoughtful one.
She was making a true effort at this, and was admittedly fitting into the role perfectly.
Already the townsfolk were growing to love her.
They smiled at them as they walked down the street, many offering quick bows or curtsies, even congratulations on their engagement.
Priscilla leaned her head against his shoulder as they made their way back to Northall. The intimate gesture surprised him, though it shouldn’t have. They were to be married. He was the one who was behaving wrongly.
Throughout dinner, she sat by his side. Her laugh was soft and musical, her touches on his arm light and fluttering.
Caspian resolved to be better, for her. He listened to her stories and told her about his childhood at the abbey.
She agreed that they should set aside additional funds for the local orphanages, perhaps even hire a schoolmaster to travel between them.
It was a lovely idea, and he told her so.
“Would you wwwalk me back to my- my rooms?” she asked shyly once the meal was complete.
Caspian swallowed. “Of course.”
They walked arm in arm through the hall to the East Wing.
The moon was bright, casting shadows of the window panes onto the floor.
They’d only just begun to replace the glass which had shattered the night of the Holly Feast. His thoughts drifted to that night, seeing Keira standing in this hall.
Something within him still bled to remember the pain in her eyes…
“It’s lovely,” Priscilla whispered beside him.
Caspian realized she had stopped, staring up at the night sky.
“Yes,” he agreed.
She placed herself before him. “Caspian?” Her gentle voice brought his attention down to her.
Her eyes were round and sparkling blue, pale skin bathed in moonlight. She was undeniably beautiful. She reached a gloved hand to brush his cheek. Her gaze lifted to his lips.
Realization stopped his heart. She wanted him to kiss her. It was time to move on. He knew that, but something unflinching within him refused. Without thinking, he took her hand away, holding it as he bowed.
“Good night, Lady Priscilla.”
Then he turned, forcing himself to slow his pace so he would not feel as much of a cowardly wretch as he was. He was abandoning his betrothed. She had only asked for the barest amount of interest from him. He couldn’t even afford her that.
Caspian stepped through the massive doors of the keep into the quiet relief of the boundless night. A breath spilled from him as though it had been waiting to escape the entire day.
He had chosen to honor the decision he’d made before Keira had come back into his life.
It was the right choice. Priscilla was the perfect match.
She was kind and patient and would certainly be a good partner in this newfound role of his.
All she wanted was the slightest effort from him, and he was failing at even that.
Yet, he couldn’t imagine how to do any better.
Already the pressure of being in her presence, keeping up the lame charade that he wasn’t thinking of Keira’s absence at every moment. It was killing him.
“It’s a bit cold out.”
Caspian turned quickly. He’d not been expecting anyone to follow him outside the keep’s walls at this hour for that very reason.
Yet Lord Redfield’s mistress was striding out after him, a woolen shawl wrapped around her arms. He wasn’t sure if she’d ever spoken to him directly before, certainly not alone.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable inside?” Caspian offered.
Yvette shook her head. “Kind of you, but no.” She glanced up at the stars with a ladened sigh before turning back to him. “I came to ask why you feel more comfortable outside, my lord.”
Caspian stiffened. He’d never loved the title. In fact, the only time he’d ever been fond of it was when Keira said it in teasing. Now that memory stung every time he heard the words.
“If you’ll forgive the assessment, you don’t seem well,” she continued, “not since the Holly Festival.”
He put a weak smile on his face, but it quickly turned sour under her keen gaze. She clearly saw through it. It was probably pretty transparent to begin with, this illusion he was trying so hard to maintain.
“You miss her? The mage?”
“Keira,” Caspian corrected.
Yvette nodded. “It’s a shame. It seemed like she was starting to warm up to this place. She looked happy, that dreadful business with Highgrove aside.”
Caspian grimaced at the memory. He’d considered more than once whether that was the reason she had chosen to go.
“Did she ever tell you why she left?” Yvette asked.
Her brown eyes were watching him rather forwardly, and he thought at that moment that she reminded him of a fox. Not in just the shape of her features, but the cleverness he sensed beneath them. There was something more in her gaze that pulled the truth from his lips. “No.”
“Hmm,” she said, looking back up at the stars. “Did she at least say goodbye?”
Did she… “Yes, of course.”
Keira would never have left without telling him goodbye, even if it was the end.
She’d told him she still loved him and that this was for the best. She’d told him that it would hurt for a time, but that he should move on.
She’d told him that he’d heal one day. Caspian had held onto those words, to that hope.
They were the one thing keeping the shattered pieces of him from falling apart completely.