Chapter 14 #3
He contemplated her. “I think … I think that there’s nothing wrong with being selfish, with taking care of yourself first, especially someone like you, who hasn’t ever been cared for.”
Biting her lower lip so she wouldn’t start crying again, Thorn nodded. “I don’t want to be a bad person.”
He shook his head slowly. “I don’t think you are. Can I see that jewel again?”
She pulled it back out of her pocket and handed it to him. He scraped the wax away from the jewel with a thumbnail, holding the gem to the light and turning it back and forth as if it might reveal something.
“What did you see in this?”
“I saw your father give you the belt buckle and you were so happy.”
“I was happy. My father gave me very few gifts. I was sad that it disappeared and he was … angry. But I said that already.” Sebastien pressed his lips together as if to stop more words, his face shadowed. “Do you still have it?” he asked suddenly, brightening. “My belt buckle.”
“No.” She felt terrible. How she wished she could be the one to return it to him. “Jada sold it years ago. I only kept out the one jewel.”
“Why?” he asked.
She shrugged, more than a little embarrassed. “I liked your memories. They made me feel better.”
“I’m glad something of mine could help,” he said. “What other memories?”
“Two brown-haired women. You had tea with them a lot.”
“My older sisters.”
“Ah, you love them. I could always feel that. And you were riding a horse in the forest. Not Kismet, I think, but you felt free and at peace.”
“My father gave me Kismet after I lost the belt buckle,” Sebastien said. “Mostly because any son of his should have a proper steed,” he added, in a deeper voice, clearly an imitation of the king, “but a relief to me that he wasn’t still angry about my carelessness.”
“But you didn’t lose it—it was stolen from you.”
“Carelessness is carelessness,” Sebastien said ruefully. They both started at a knock on the roof of the carriage and he moved to look out the window. “We’re here.”
“Oh.” Time had flown by while they were talking.
She tried to put on a brave face, but something of her trepidation must have showed because Sebastien said, “I’ll go in with you. Have a word with this Jada, if she’s returned.”
“Oh, but no,” she exclaimed, then realized she’d contradicted him. Still, what if Jada harmed him? “I’ll be fine.”
The carriage came to a halt and he opened the door, Nonna leaping out with a yip.
Sebastien followed Nonna, then held a hand toward Thorn.
Taking it hesitantly—his skin was so smooth, so warm, that she imagined tingles running up her arm—she stepped down.
They stood before the briar-wreathed gate, the thawing early-spring garden mostly hidden behind the black lattice of the thorny rose canes.
Small knobs bulbed here and there along the length of the canes, the early promise of leaves to come.
Sebastien still held her hand uplifted between them and she wasn’t at all sure what to do.
“Will you, though?” he asked. “Be fine,” he clarified at her confusion.
Oh! Her mind wasn’t working well at all. She could only think about the tingles and him holding her hand. Beyond the briar screen, the cottage looked empty and quite abandoned. Hard to believe it had been only a day and night since she’d departed.
“Looks like no one is home,” he said.
“No. I mean, yes, I agree.”
“I don’t see Nessie or the chickens, though.”
“They’re sleeping.” She realized too late how odd that sounded. “Jada puts us all to sleep when she leaves. Only I woke up.”
He waited a moment longer, then smiled ruefully when she didn’t continue. “One of those stories we’ll exchange someday?”
“Yes,” she agreed with relief—and a measure of hope. Someday.
“I can’t at least wait to see you safely inside?”
“No,” she said staunchly, being a better person. “You must leave me here.”
“I don’t like this, Thorn,” he said, an ominous darkness in his voice, but not directed at her.
“I really will be all right,” she reassured him, blazingly aware of how he gazed at her, seeming to care, still holding her hand.
“I wish I could be sure of that.”
“I’ll tell the birds,” she said on impulse. “All kinds of birds visit the garden. I’ll tell them to go find you and talk to you about what I’m doing.”
A wistful smile quirked his lips. “I would like that. Promise?”
“Yes. And I’m keeping promises now, so that will be good practice.”
He laughed that special laugh, the one she particularly liked. “Glad I could be of service.” He sobered again. “I will be back, so I won’t say goodbye. How about until I see you again?”
“Until I see you again,” she breathed, hardly daring to hope what this might mean.
He bent and brushed his lips over the back of her hand. Dizziness swept through her, hot and even more tingly. The urge to tell him that she loved him hovered behind her teeth, and she caged in the words. Lifting his head again, green eyes warm, Sebastien smiled.
Then he called for Nonna and the two of them returned to the carriage, going off down the road. Thorn stood there awhile, watching after them, long after they’d disappeared from view.