Chapter Two Romantic Failure #2
“How are the travels treating you?” I said, hoping to shift the conversation. “Do you have any time to get away from the queen?”
“Yes, a little every day at least.”
She didn’t seem inclined to say more, only watched the caravan snaking through the forest ahead. The breeze fluttered the edges of her split ocher dress.
The readers were counting on me. Sherry Whitehorse was counting on me.
“Enough time to date?” I said brightly, feeling entirely false.
Ariana’s eyes crinkled in confusion. “Date? Tend to the queen’s schedule?”
“No,” I said, undeterred, “date. That’s what we call it where I’m from. Two people spending time together.”
I could see she wasn’t picking up on my dreadful explanation.
“Romantically.”
“Oh,” she said, comprehending. “No, I don’t have time for a liaison like that. In the past year and a half, I’ve done all I can to prepare for this war.”
That was a surprise. Meg, Lu, Denise, and others from the Maidens’ Chamber had made it sound like chasing romantic interests was a focal point of their time.
It was Landsome Roads for goodness’ sake, the number one best-selling fantasy romance series.
What else was there to do in beautiful castles with handsome men around?
Sherry Whitehorse was the architect of this world, and she had created it primarily for people to get romantic with each other.
“Are you betrothed?” Maybe her love was currently elsewhere in the queendom.
“No.”
“Would you like to be?”
I thought it took a lot to ruffle the feathers of calm, composed Lady-in-Waiting Ariana, but I guess all it took was me.
“And what of you, Lady Dottie?” I caught the demotion from friendly first name basis to cold title. “Are you stringing Lord Draw along or are you simply looking for a husband in the first noble man you meet?”
“No,” I sputtered. I actually could use a friend to talk to about Lord Draw, but I understood the offer was not genuine.
Ariana looked at me directly, her reins collected up in one hand. “I didn’t take you for a gossiper, but if that’s how you play, you should know what people are saying about you.”
I had a straightforward, yet charming reply prepared to try to diffuse the situation—I really didn’t mean offense—but Peanut Butter chose that moment to mouth at a tall patch of grass on the side of the road.
His rump angled crosswise across the path, blocking the wagon behind me.
I jerked at the reins, but all he did was step deeper into the ditch. At least it freed the road up.
Someone tsked loudly as the wagon rolled behind me.
It was Tilly the laundress. She sat at the boot of the wagon, the rear panel down flat, her legs dangling.
At her side was the old woman who had interrogated me and my satchel when I first got to Castle Creneda.
Seeing them together, I realized they were sisters.
“My lady, surely get your beast under the bit!” Tilly cried. She dropped her voice to speak to her sister, but it was still loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’ve never ridden astride a horse a day of my life but even I can see that.”
My jaw was tight with concentration. I really didn’t need Tilly’s comments. Peanut Butter swiveled to find more grass and was now blocking a carriage.
“Sorry,” I called out.
Ariana sighed in an impatient way, her horse’s mane perfect, her long black braid perfect, her beautiful riding outfit perfect. “Don’t jerk on both reins like that. Pull gently but firmly on only the left.”
It worked, but by the time I was back on the road, Ariana had spurred her gray horse ahead to ride alongside the Master of Horse who dipped a curious look back at me.
He was wearing his light brown hair in a half bun.
He turned back to say something to Ariana, likely about me, and she shrugged a shoulder.
I fumed in my saddle, mostly about Tilly’s loud commentary, but also at losing my chance to sway Ariana. If I didn’t push her forward, she’d remain a surface-level side character. She deserved more.
It’s true I had been pushy with her, but I had thought everyone here was open to the topic of romantic interests. Most of the conversations at court were about just that.
Clearly though, I had made a mistake.
I didn’t know what Ariana’s dating history was like.
Maybe she’d been burned in the past. Or maybe she didn’t know how to initiate things with the person she liked.
Despite it happening less gracefully than I’d imagined, she was now riding next to the Master of Horse, right?
Maybe things would end up taking the path I saw for her regardless of how awkward I was at setting it in motion.
I brainstormed haphazardly through the morning. It was hard to strategize without quill and paper, and Peanut Butter seemed to favor zigzagging along the road dependent on which side had the longest grass. No one else seemed inclined to ride alongside me.
It was a relief when we stopped at a stream to water the horses.
The wide creek rolled slowly, barely a disturbance on the sparkling surface.
I slid down Peanut Butter’s side and landed on my feet with a lurch.
A young girl came and took the reins to lead him to water.
Hoof deep in the stream, he promptly stuck his muzzle in.
I rolled my hips and stretched my back. Sitting for hours on end didn’t sound hard—everyone else on horseback certainly seemed unaffected—but, for me, the yoga I started teaching Omar had become essential.
As I rolled my shoulders, I looked around.
There was a bridge farther down the stream, and I could see two wagons from the caravan crossing, their horses already watered.
Though I had told myself I wasn’t going to pursue things with Draw, I couldn’t help looking for his shoulder-length black hair among the crowd.
With no sight of him, I stepped away from the jostle on the bank as new riders dismounted and servants took horses to water.
I stood for a moment, a little awkward with no one to talk to.
Then Ironclaw emerged from the trees on a tall, black stallion.
He apparently hadn’t been on the same trail as the rest of us.
He wore his usual dark tunic and pants, his face a stiff mask as he navigated the noisy throng of people.
I knew the queen was far ahead on the road and I wondered why he wasn’t riding alongside her.
She always seemed eager to chat with chosen members of her court during the day’s ride.
In contrast, Ironclaw rode alone more often than not.
There had to be common ground between their personalities. Sherry Whitehorse would have seen it. I had to also—after I persuaded Ironclaw to leave Draw alone.
Ironclaw dismounted and waved off an approaching page in favor of watering his horse himself. At the streamside, the horse lowered its neck to drink, and Ironclaw put one hand on its shoulder and stared at the water in thought.
Ironclaw didn’t stay in one place for long. In a moment, I was decided.
I came to stand alongside him on the edge of the grassy bank, wary of getting my boots wet. I made my face open and curious. Pleasant, I hoped.
“Did you take another route, Sir Ironclaw?”
Ironclaw didn’t look at me. His brow was tight, his eyes focused. “I was combing the woods for the Dark Mage’s scouts.”
How many times had I read a similar statement in the books?
As a reader, I’d been fixated on his bravery, his savvy heroism, but for the first time I got a glimpse of something else—was he avoiding the company?
Surely there were lesser-ranked soldiers that could patrol the woods.
Why would he choose to do that instead of riding with the queen of Landsome, the woman he loved?
Was their relationship that rocky? Or was something else going on?
My job wasn’t to question him though. I had to get him to trust me.
“That’s what I’d heard about you,” I said.
Ironclaw finally looked at me, his interest piqued. His irises were dark brown, so dark as to look black. And they were waiting.
“That you’re always prepared,” I said more clearly. “The witch told me to rely on you as the hero of Landsome.” His attention was on me and he wasn’t growling or accusing me of dark magic. I had to keep this line of conversation going. “Is that a new sword?”
He didn’t turn his head, but his eyes flicked to the back of his saddle where a black hilt stuck out of a wrap.
I had seen him pick it up at the armory back at Castle Creneda.
Longclaw, the great sword of his house, was usually on his back, but today he only had his silver daggers at his hips.
I thought he’d be enthusiastic to talk about a new purchase.
“It is.”
“Did you need a new one for any particular reason?”
He frowned slightly. “Many reasons.”
Uh-oh, this was going the way of my conversation with Ariana. I guess not everyone wanted to spill their secrets to a foreign witch’s apprentice.
Yet I was learning what everyone did want—information. That was the true currency of the court.
I dropped my voice. I had rehearsed this in my head earlier based on how I imagined Sherry Whitehorse would have written the dialogue.
“When we talked about your sister back at Castle Creneda, I wasn’t able to tell you everything.
With the coming battle, we need to better align ourselves.
In information surely, but also...as true allies. ”
Though the frown didn’t let up much, he leaned toward me. “How did you come by this information? Through magic, isn’t that so?”
“Well, yes, from the witch’s prophecies.”
He shook his head but turned fully toward me.
“I’ve seen magic turn ordinary folk dark, fortune-telling causing more harm than good.
” Despite his accusations, there was a charge in the air between us.
I couldn’t tell how seriously he took his concerns or whether he was saying it only to irritate me.
I narrowed my own eyes back at him. I was trying to help him! Or rather, help Draw through helping him.
“This isn’t that kind of magic. There are no spells or curses,” I said impatiently.
If he would just listen to me...but he was headstrong.
Ironclaw wasn’t going to take my advice out in the open, or even likely on a one-off interaction.
All I’d read showed me I needed a regular thing with him if I was going to have a chance at getting him to listen to me.
Draw was right, Ironclaw’s interpersonal skills were nothing impressive—maybe he liked subtly in his women but not so subtle he couldn’t see it.
“Come to me tonight?” I fought to keep from blushing. This is just another scene in a book, I told myself.
He didn’t respond and I felt the urge to twitch under his gaze, but I couldn’t falter.
If not a scene, a play. Cosplaying at a convention. I had to hold steady. I was the only one who knew strategically what the characters needed to do, and I was there to make things happen.
What I didn’t expect was the chaos of feelings upon uttering my request. As much as I wanted to tell myself it would all add up to words on a page, it wasn’t so easy.
Did I really believe I could control Ironclaw?
That my actions would be enough to keep him from turning Draw over to the Dark Mage?
That he’d turn immediately from me to the queen for a happily-ever-after?
More damning than my doubts, it was as if as soon as I invited Ironclaw to a late-night rendezvous, my heart decided to rebel.
The fling I craved upon first arriving in the Queendom of Landsome was intended to sate my years of fantasies with this bookish hero.
However, the lust I’d felt for fictional Ironclaw dissipated the longer I was in Landsome.
Moreover, it had been replaced with something else.
Draw was something else and more. If he had the power to make me fall in love, he could just as easily break my heart. And I would break his when I left. He was real, as was the way I felt about him.
And I’d just invited his cousin to bed.
A breeze came off the stream and my hair flitted across my face. Ironclaw reached out and tucked the long strands behind my ear, his hands rough but warm. He was closer now, his shoulders stooped, almost as if he was about to kiss me.
He met my eyes and nodded. I saw something there, something hungry.
I hoped I knew what I was doing.