Chapter 18
I had taken to bathing in the stream more often. Not naked like I had the day I’d been left all alone, but still, I fully immersed myself in the cold water. And it was cold. It may have been spring, but I knew the stream was fed by snow melt, which gave it an icy and bracing temperature.
My shorter hair was less trouble to deal with, and easier to wash and dry. I had started changing into a skirt after my bath. My afternoon chores weren’t so taxing that I needed to wear pants. Where before I had wanted to emulate Cor or Tain, now I was finding my own path. I liked the freedom that wearing pants afforded me, but there was something I still liked about skirts, and I didn’t see why I should have to give them up. I had sewn pockets into my skirts so I always had a weapon in easy reach, not to mention that they came in handy for carrying things.
I broke through the tree line on my way back from my bath when I spotted Tain, leaning against a tree, watching me. I nodded but didn’t stop to chat. Tain had not warmed to me at all, and besides sharing a room to sleep, we were rarely in the same space—her decision, not mine.
‘When are you going to start sparring with us?’ Tain said, straightening from her lazy slouch and coming to walk beside me.
‘What?’ As far as I knew, no one knew what I was doing in my little outbuilding.
‘Breust taught you a kata, didn’t he? When are you going to train with us?’
‘You don’t want me to train with you,’ I said. ‘I would only slow you down.’
‘Perhaps,’ Tain replied thoughtfully. ‘But you can only get so far training on your own. You won’t improve without sparring against someone.’
She had a point, but I was too self-conscious about my lack of skill to actually show it to anyone. I knew Breust watched me, and I felt Parisar’s eyes on me, although that had been less and less lately.
I stopped and turned to her. ‘Is this just so you can find another reason to make fun of me?’ I asked. ‘I know I’m just a big joke to all of you.’
‘I never joke about training,’ Tain replied seriously. ‘The offer is there, take it or leave it.’
Tain stalked off without looking back. Had I offended her? I didn’t think there was anything I could say or do that would dent her armour, but maybe she wasn’t as impervious to insults as I thought.
I could have kicked myself for rejecting her hand of friendship. Okay, maybe not friendship, exactly, but it was a truce of sorts. She hadn’t needed to approach me or invite me to join the others.
I sighed and resumed walking back to the main house. I would apologise and accept her invitation. At least if she was doing it to embarrass me in front of the others, I was walking into it with my eyes open.
A cry went up, and I froze. It was the signal that another messenger was approaching. They had been coming more frequently in the weeks since Parisar returned. There was no pattern to their arrival, but the sentry—whoever was on duty—would always alert the compound to a messenger’s approach. It gave me time to hide.
I sighed and retraced my steps back toward the woods and slipped into my little training room. I’d tried spying on the messengers when they first started arriving, but Breust always caught me before I could hear anything of consequence, so I had eventually given up.
Since the messengers had been coming, I had seen less and less of Parisar. He no longer chopped wood and, much to my chagrin, I didn’t find watching anyone else chop wood quite so entertaining.
A corner of the main house had been set up as an office, and Parisar spent most of his time there, going over reports from scouting missions and reading the correspondence from the messengers. Occasionally, my mother would send something for me, but her letters and gifts were infrequent, and I stopped expecting to receive something every time.
Parisar occasionally shared what news he had around the dinner table, but I knew it was an abridged version. Either he didn’t want me to know the entire story, or he was keeping things close to his chest for another reason. Did he suspect someone within the group? I couldn’t imagine it. They all seemed so tight knit, so much so that even after more than a month of being with them, I still felt like an outsider.
I flopped down on a pallet I had made out of some old blankets and straw and stared at the ceiling. There were tiny pinpricks in the roof, and it reminded me of looking at the stars. I stared up at them, imagining what I would be doing if I was home, in the castle. I would probably be in my tower room reading or…or doing what I was doing right at this moment—daydreaming.
It still amazed me how quickly I had adapted. The others would probably laugh if I said that out loud. I’m sure they still saw me as the spoiled princess who didn’t know how to look after herself, but I saw how far I’d come. I could cook now. Not well, but what I made was edible. I’d never be able to cook like Weylei, but I could survive if it ever came to that. I had gotten stronger, and as my ribs healed, my kata had improved. I was still using a wooden sword, but I doubted anyone would give me a real one. I don’t think they fully trusted me yet, nor me them. We were working together for a common goal, but I didn’t really trust their motivations or their ultimate objective. My archery was steadily consistent, something I could rely on, and my knife throwing had improved. I’d created my own dummy out of straw and hung it in my training room. Sometimes I liked to imagine Parisar’s face on the dummy, or Breust when he’d been particularly annoying. Sometimes Tain, especially after a night when her snoring could have woken the dead.
For what it was worth, I knew I had changed. There was more I needed to learn, but I was happy with the person I was becoming. I didn’t know what my life would be like in the future. Would I ever get back to the castle? Or would I be in exile forever? I didn’t know the answers to those questions and I didn’t have my mother’s mirror to give me any clues.
I missed my home, but living here wasn’t all that bad. I didn’t know if I wanted to do it forever, but as of right then, I was content.
‘Are we tiring you out, Princess?’
My eyes snapped open, and I twisted on the pallet to see Parisar leaning against the door jamb of my training room, his arms folded, and one leg crossed lazily over the other. A small smile played around the corner of his mouth, and there was a twinkle in his eye that had been absent recently.
I sat up and brushed at my hair, finding stray stalks of hay tangled in it. Of course there was hay in my hair.
‘I must have dozed off,’ I said, getting to my feet and stretching. ‘Has the messenger gone?’
Parisar watched me for a long moment before he smiled and nodded. He straightened from his easy pose and stepped forward, holding something out to me.
‘What’s this?’ I asked, taking the small parcel from him.
‘A gift,’ he replied and then looked down, his cheeks flushing. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion, before he looked back at me. ‘It’s a little late. It’s for your birthday.’
‘My birthday was a month ago,’ I said, looking down at the tiny package. ‘This is from you?’ I looked up at him.
‘I got it…before,’ he said. ‘I’d been planning on giving it to you on your birthday along with all the other hundreds of gifts you would receive but…’
‘But then I was kidnapped, and all my birthday celebrations were forgotten.’
He nodded. ‘Open it,’ he said, and then turned. ‘Or not.’
‘You can’t just go,’ I said, reaching out to put my hand on his arm. ‘Don’t you want to know what I think of it?’
‘Not really,’ he muttered under his breath, but then faced me and smiled. ‘Of course, Princess.’
I sat back down on the pallet, my legs crossed, and my skirt spread around me. I turned the package over in my hand, intrigued by it. It was too small to be a book or a bow or a sword.
‘Just open it,’ he said impatiently.
I glared at him before turning my gaze back to the gift. ‘I’m taking my time. It’s the only birthday present I have received, so I want to savour the moment.’
Parisar sighed and shifted on his feet as I slowly picked at the wax sealing the paper closed. I didn’t want to rip it. Paper was precious, or at least it was to me out here. I hadn’t had the chance to write or draw or even hold a piece of paper in my hand since I’d been taken from the castle—apart from the infrequent letters from my mother—and I found I missed the feel of it.
Inside the wrapping was a small wooden box with intricate carvings on the lid.
‘Did you make this?’ I asked, looking up at Parisar.
‘Yes, but that is not the present. Your gift is inside the box.’
Was he embarrassed?
I ran my fingertips over the engraved lines and swirls. They were vines with flowers and thorns. He’d done a beautiful job, and contrary to what he said, this box was a gift.
I cautiously lifted the lid and stared down at the golden locket within. The surface shone in the light sprinkled through the holes in the roof. It was also engraved and those engravings matched the ones on the lid. Had Parisar made this too?
I looked up at him, and the question must have been written all over my face.
‘I did the engraving,’ he said. ‘But a goldsmith in the castle made the pendant and the chain.’
I nodded and looked back down at the precious pendent. I took it from the box, testing the weight of it in my hand. This was no cheap trinket that he picked up in the market. Cupping the locket in my hands, I opened it and was surprised to find a tiny pressed petal inside. It was a red rose petal. The same rose he had plucked from the garden that day. The same rose he had worn in his lapel at that first ball.
‘I know we have had our problems, Princess,’ he said stiffly. ‘But we were friends once. That day, in the garden, I said you were beautiful, and I meant it. I mean it still.’
I looked from the rose petal to Parisar. So many things swirled around inside me, I didn’t know what was real and what was mere sentimentality.
He cleared his throat. ‘Would you like me to put it on for you?’
I nodded numbly, standing and approaching him. He took the locket from my fingers, his touch grazing me and sending fissures of sensation up my arm.
Parisar undid the clasp and leaned forward, his arms going around my shoulders, causing me to step forward so he could reach behind me to close the clasp. It also had the consequence of me leaning my forehead on his chest, and I breathed him in. He smelled of home. It was a silly thing to think. He didn’t literally smell like home. He smelled like the laundry soap we used to wash our clothes, but there was something about him, about his presence, his aura, that reminded me of home. I took another breath, not in any hurry to move away from him and break the connection.
Would things have been different if my father hadn’t been struck down? Would Parisar and I have found our way back to friends if the events of the castle and my subsequent kidnapping not happened?
I didn’t know, but it was nice to think that maybe yes.
‘Snow,’ he said softly, his warm breath skittering over the skin of my neck.
‘Hmm,’ I hummed in reply, still not moving away from him.
‘I…’
I tilted my head, looking up at him. There was something in his eyes, something I had never seen before and I couldn’t identify, but something I liked and wanted to see more of.
He lowered his head slowly, and I knew he was going to kiss me. He took his time, giving me space to move away, but I didn’t. I met him half-way, our lips meeting in a brief kiss before parting again. We searched each other’s eyes, and then he kissed me again, his hand sliding into the short curls at the back of my neck and my hands clasping his tunic.
I had been kissed before, but it had never been like this. It had never felt like this. My body was warm all over, and my bones felt limp like the noodles Weylei cooked. I melted against him, and his arms tightened around me.
It was everything.
And then it was done.
Parisar broke the kiss first, lifting his head slowly, his chest billowing as he breathed hard. His eyes roamed over my face, his gaze lingering on my lips, and then met my eyes.
‘Happy birthday, Snow,’ he murmured.