Chapter 24
Looking at Lys was no different from looking at a stone wall. Neither of them moved, neither of them reacted, and both were completely cold. The only difference was that I could lean against the wall.
At the end of the day, the truth was that a Blood Knight wasn't supposed to talk, or smile, or visibly breathe. That had never been part of his duty, it was merely a bonus. But... this wasn't just any knight. This was Lys. And Lys absolutely hated me.
Still, I tried.
"...and then Sanaedeo told me that the money helped a great many families in the city. He even said he personally delivered part of it to some village. I don't know exactly which one."
If this could even be called a conversation, then I had been talking to him like this for almost two hours. Every single day, ever since the ceremony in the city.
"Yes, Princess." Every time, one of the same five standard replies would come from the stone.
"Oh, please, at least add one more sentence. I'm getting tired of hearing the same thing over and over," I said as we sat down for lunch.
"Of course, Princess." I rolled my eyes and looked around the cool dining room. The windows were open, and a cold breeze sent the curtains dancing to its melody. I felt goosebumps spread across my skin and down my back.
The maids brought our plates, each covered with a silver cloche, and placed them in front of us.
"Thank you," I said, and the young maid froze for a moment before looking up at me.
Then she smiled and nodded. "No one else is joining us today?"
I asked, not really directing the question at anyone in particular.
"No, Princess," the same maid answered. "Princess Meera is in her studies, and Prince Sanaedeo left the castle last night."
I nodded before remembering to thank her again.
Sitting across from me, Lys quietly thanked the girl as well. Without another word, he picked up his fork and pierced a piece of potato. He brought it to his mouth with almost elegant precision and began chewing.
As he had already grown used to it, I continued talking about completely random, unrelated things.
I looked at the table.
Then at him.
Then back at the table.
"This table," I announced dramatically. He lifted his eyes from his plate and glanced at the tabletop. "It was made from wood imported from Erska." I nodded proudly, as though I had just discovered some miraculous cure.
He stared at me blankly.
I slapped my hand against the table before continuing.
"This table doesn't break, Sir Knight. I'm telling you, it simply cannot be damaged."
His expression didn't change, but his left hand slowly drew the dagger from his belt and lifted it beside his face.
Then he turned the blade toward the table.
He looked directly into my eyes, and I narrowed mine ever so slightly.
"Let's... not test that theory right now," I said quickly. I wasn't particularly interested in explaining damaged furniture to anyone.
After all, the wood hadn't come from Erska at all. I don't even know what type of wood this is.
"Well... perhaps this isn't that kind of wood, and perhaps I don't actually know where this table came from, but—"
"Princess, wood from Erska is white, with crimson veins running through its bark."
I wasn't sure what surprised me more, that he was actually speaking, or that he knew that. "Considering I come from a village just outside Erska, and spent my entire childhood cutting those very trees..." he continued, almost innocently.
Heat flooded my cheeks. I'd forgotten that he'd told me where he was from.
"But I assume Your Highness already knew that and was simply making fun of me."
I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, feeling my face burn with embarrassment.
Whether it was because of the cold wind against my back or my own humiliation, I couldn't tell, but for the briefest moment, I thought I caught the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Whether it had truly been there or not, I couldn't say.
But a second later, whatever was on his face disappeared entirely.
He lowered the dagger, picked up his fork again, and calmly took another bite of meat while I sat there staring at him, completely dumbfounded and thoroughly embarrassed. Eventually, I picked up my own fork and pushed the food around my plate.
I don't know why I felt the need to bring it up. It seems I couldn't stop myself.
"I'm glad that knight lost. The one who killed the horse." He stopped chewing. His eyes lifted to mine.
Whatever little ease had found its way onto his face disappeared completely, replaced once again by that familiar coldness. Those angry eyes pierced straight through me. I pressed my lips together and lowered my gaze to my plate.
"I didn't mean that it would..."
"The horse I rode was mine," he said flatly.
My eyes snapped back to him. "She was mine. The only thing I had left from home. And she still died on that field."
I opened my mouth to answer, but he continued before I could.
"Not immediately. Later. While you were celebrating, Princess... she was put to the blade."
The contempt dripped from his words like poison.
The hand holding his fork began to tremble, and he quickly lowered it beneath the table, out of my sight. "Lysande... I'm sorry. I didn't know." I meant it. That familiar ache returned to my chest.
He let out a dry laugh and looked away. "You wouldn't understand, Princess."
Something inside me finally snapped.
"And you think I wanted any of this?" I demanded angrily, pushing my chair back as I stood.
He watched my every movement without saying a word.
"Do you think I wanted you to become my knight? Do you think I wanted someone following me everywhere I go? No. Of course I didn't. And do you think I wanted everything to happen the way it did? No. That wasn't my fault."
I hissed through clenched teeth. "Those horses weren't my fault, Lysande."
His jaw tightened.
"If you want to leave, then leave. It isn't allowed, but go. I'll give you every piece of gold I own and arrange safe travels for you. Go wherever your heart wants to go if that's what it takes for you to forgive me for my lies, but don't blame me for something that was never my fault."
I felt tears gathering in my eyes.
"If I weren't a princess," I said, pressing a finger against the corset wrapped tightly around my chest, "someone else would have stood where I stood. Everything still would have happened, because you..."
I pointed at him, tears now spilling freely down my cheeks.
"...you chose this. You volunteered. You entered the tournament, and you won. Your horse died, and I'm sorry. I truly am. But I can't change that anymore. I regret my own mistakes, but don't blame me for mistakes of your own making."
My voice cracked, but I managed to force the words out. I wiped my tears away with my sleeve before throwing my fork onto the table.
Then I stormed past him.
For a long moment, there was only silence. Then I heard footsteps behind me. This time, they sounded different. Closer. For Lysande now walked only five feet behind me.