“We have to stop. You drive me crazy, Rogan,” he whispered gruffly. “You always have.”
My heart was struggling to calm down and I laughed at the strange, wonderful but awful turn of events. “Well, you took the perfect revenge.”
He turned his head to look at me and he grinned smugly, taking in my flushed face.
I swatted at him. “Very nice.”
“What?” he laughed, rolling up onto his elbow and reaching out to brush my hair off my face. “After spending the last few years panting after you it’s nice to know you want me back.”
My eyebrows rose in surprise. “The last few years?”
Laughing softly, Wolfe reached for me, pulling me into his embrace, tucking my head under his chin. I automatically snuggled against his heat. “Let’s stop with the questions for now, Rogan. We need to sleep.”
I was sceptical that after our kissing session I would be able to fall asleep. But surprisingly, with Wolfe keeping me safe, I drifted off quickly into a dreamless slumber.
Chapter Eighteen
I couldn’t see her in the crowds. Where was she? This was her night. Smiling benignly at a Raphizyan Baron and his insipidly vapid wife, I made my way out of the noisy ballroom and into the foyer. I had already asked Vikomt Matai, her newest bodyguard, if he had seen her. He had turned his back for one minute and she was gone. I knew the man felt terrible, losing the Princezna in a crowded ballroom two weeks into his new post. I tried to reassure him. Haydyn could be a minx and he’d have to get to know her better to understand her better. Once he had, looking after her wouldn’t be a problem. Two footmen stood guard at the entrance.
“Have you seen the Princezna?” I asked anxiously, before reminding myself to stop twisting my hands together nervously in case they thought something was amiss.
One of the footmen stepped forward a little. “Her majesty left the ballroom a few minutes ago, my Lady. She was headed in the direction of the orangery.”
I nodded my thanks and lifted my gown, my steps picking up pace as I followed the luxuriously gilded hallways of the palace to the large orangery in the east wing with views of the Silver Sea in the distance. Not that you could really see the views past the exotic plants and citruses Stena, the gardener, had populated the glasshouse with. Briefly, I closed my eyes, wondering what an earth I’d find when I got to the orangery. This was supposed to be Haydyn’s proper debut as Princezna of Phaedra; she was sixteen now, no longer a child. But something had been plaguing her all day.
I stepped inside the humid air of the orangery, the scents somewhat overwhelming. But Haydyn liked it here. She said it made her feel like she was somewhere else. I relaxed a little at finding her sitting on a bench at the back of the orangery. She glanced up, unsurprised to see me there.
“Haydyn,” I whispered, moving towards her, the rustling of my skirts sounding overly loud in the quiet of the glass room. With a deep exhalation I sat beside her, our elbows bumping. “Why aren’t you at the ball, enjoying your debut?”
She huffed, “It’s not as if they haven’t seen me at a ball before.”
I stopped myself from snorting out loud. “True,” I muttered, desperately trying to keep the laughter out of my voice. Sometimes it was so hard to teach her to be responsible when I agreed with her summations. “But this is a special evening and you really should return to your guests.”
Haydyn shrugged.
I frowned. “I know you aren’t blind to the superficiality of some of your court but you’ve never treated them with disdain. You’ve always been so friendly and polite to everyone. Tonight, I’d be surprised if you had stretched your lips once into a smile. I even thought I misheard you telling Lady Viskt that if the people of Alvernia were half as well-fed as her cat, Phaedra would have no tribulations. Now I think I didn’t mishear it at all.”
She laughed lightly. “No, you didn’t. But, Rogan, she’s awful. All she talks about is that bloody cat of hers. As if the Princezna wants to discuss an overfed spoiled brat of a cat that scratched me last time she brought it to court, over her donating money to the charity I wanted to start for the mountain people of Alvernia.”
A wave of fondness made me smile softly at her. “Dear, not everyone is as open-minded about the Alvernian mountain people as you.”
She snorted. “Including you.”
I shrugged, unabashed. “They’re under the same evocation as the rest of us. If they wanted to be civilised they could be.”
“But-”
“You know I’d be more positively inclined towards this rapidly failing philanthropic idea of yours if I thought for one second it had been your idea.”
Blushing, Haydyn shrugged. “Darren is very passionate about these issues.”
Now I did snort. “Darren is an arrogant troubadour with an overinflated sense of importance. He’s never even been to Alvernia! The furthest he’s been is Ryl. Not exactly the best troubadour if you ask me… travelling minstrel my left butt cheek!”
Haydyn burst into raucous laughter, shaking her head. Once she’d controlled her giggles, she stared up me with love shining bright in her eyes. “Perhaps you’re right. He did write me the most awful poetry the other morning. Something about hair the colour of the moon and a sweet lady granting him a boon. I think he may have been trying to get me to kiss him.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You didn’t, did you?”
Pinching her lips together she gave a sharp jerk of her head. “No. I did think about it but he’s not really what I expected. None of this is.” She swept the room with a dainty hand.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think I can do this,” she confessed hollowly. “Decisions and choices, and pandering to the court. It’s all so much responsibility. The coronation ceremony is only two years away, and then I’ll be crowned Queen. Somehow that makes it sound all that much more frightening.”
“Why don’t we go away?” She clutched my arm frantically, her emerald eyes pleading with me. “We’ll jump on a boat and sail the coast to Alvernia. See for ourselves what the people are really like.”
“Hay-”
“Or we could take off on Midnight and Sundown, head for your old family home in Vasterya. We could run through the fields and play by that stream you always talk about. It sounds like paradise.”
I smiled sadly at her and drew her into a hug. “Haydyn, you know we can’t.”
“Why not? You’re the only one I care about and the only one who cares about me. We’ll have a grand adventure.”
“You know you care about the people here, Haydyn. You’re just overwhelmed, and that is to be expected.” I turned so I was facing her, my eyes serious, older than my years. “Phaedra needs your magic, Haydyn. And it needs your goodness. I know it’s a lot to ask of a young woman, but we’ve all had to sacrifice something for our land.”
Immediately her eyes welled up with tears. “Oh, Rogan, you must think me terribly selfish and childish.”
“No. I think you’re young. I think you’re scared. But I know how smart and kind and good you are. And like you said, you have me. I’ll help you through. I’ll always be there for you. You’re all that matters, and nothing will get in the way of that. Nothing…”
…a stripe of heat across my face tingled, slowly bringing me out of sleep. I peeled my eyes open, blinking against the stream of sunlight coming in from a crack in the rafters.
Where was I?
It took me a minute but then it all came flooding back and I stiffened; my head whipping to my side. The place where Wolfe had slept was empty. He was gone. My heart raced. No, he was probably just in the house, I reassured myself. I groaned and sat up. Despite feeling less exhausted, I still ached all over. All over. Why, oh why had I kissed Wolfe last night? I groaned, burying my face in my hands. It was such a silly, stupid thing to do!
You were exhausted.
Yes. I was exhausted. I wasn’t thinking clearly... clearly.
I was in the middle of rescuing my best friend, my sister; the one person in the entire land of Phaedra who meant anything to me. I couldn’t be distracted by kisses from the most inappropriate man imaginable. His father killed my family! He was a Vikomt and I was a farm girl! He would marry and I… definitely would not!
But what to do now? When I went into the house, how should I act? My stomach churned. I dreaded an actual conversation with him about it. Oh surely Wolfe would know it was a mistake. A bleary-eyed, adrenaline-rushed error in judgement. I should just act like nothing happened. I bet that was exactly what he would want. Nodding, happy with the decision, I scrambled down out of the hayloft, nearly falling on my bottom - I trembled with nerves so badly. The sun was bright and hot outside the hayloft and I winced at the thought of riding to Caera in this heat. Heaving a huge sigh, I braced my shoulders as if readying for battle, and headed into the widow’s house. Wolfe was nowhere to be seen; the widow bustling around the kitchen, the smell of breakfast heady and thick in the air. My stomach grumbled a plea.
“There you are.” The old widow smiled at me. “I hope you slept well.”
I nodded, confused. Where was Wolfe?
“Your man is out back getting washed up at the trough.”
I glowered. “He’s not my man. He’s my…” I realised I didn’t know how to finish that sentence.
Chuckling softly, the widow lay out the breakfast for us. “I’m just going out to feed my pig. Be back in a minute.”
“Thank you.” I gestured to the food gratefully and sat down, answering her cheery smile with a half-hearted one of my own. I never knew confusion could be so physically disorientating. Shrugging it off, I began to dig into the delicious food, salivating as it melted on my tongue. Perhaps we should take the old widow back with us, employ her in the palace kitchens. My lips twitched at the thought. Cook wouldn’t be amused by that turn of events. Ah Cook. I missed her. And Valena. And Haydyn… but that went without saying.
At the sound of a creak behind me, my ears perked up, and then his familiar scent hit me. I felt Wolfe behind me. The press of his lips against my neck startled me and I flinched back from him, staring at him incredulously. Immediately, Wolfe took a step back, a wary aspect flickering across his gaze. Whatever he saw in my expression made him snort in disgust and he took the seat beside me to tuck into the breakfast.
“Last night was a dream then?” he asked with a definite edge to his voice.
I took a moment, shaking off the delicious tingling sensation on my neck where he had kissed me, desperately trying to ignore the way my stomach flipped at the sight of his aquamarine eyes and wicked mouth. Finally, when I thought my voice wouldn’t come out all breathy and give me away, I replied, “Not a dream. Just a mistake.”
Somehow Wolfe managed to glare at me out of the corner of his eye, and it wasn’t hard to fall back into the way of things, bristling at the condescending look he slid on and off his face as easy as a mask. “A mistake?” he seethed, shaking his head. “I should have known you’d wake up as skittish as mouse. I shouldn’t have left.”
“It’s got nothing to do with that. And I am not skittish! I never skitter.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re being skittish. But I’m willing to forgive your less than pleasant reaction and give you some time to think about things.”
Whatever else I had been feeling, whatever doubts, whatever confusion, rushed out of the window at his patronising conceit. That familiar heating of my blood took over my mouth. “You arrogant, condescending, arrogant-”
“You said that already.” He flicked his fork at me, amusement playing on his lips.
He thought I was kidding. He thought we were having a disagreement. I took in a deep breath, willing my nerves to calm. “I’m completely serious, Captain,” I told him softly, hating how he flinched as I reverted to calling him Captain. “I’m sorry to have misled you in any way… but what happened last night won’t happen again.”
Wolfe gazed at me a moment, perhaps trying to calculate how earnest I was. Finally he shook his head, angry confusion in his beautiful eyes. “Rogan, don’t. I know this is… difficult… but we can figu-”
“Don’t.” I stood up quickly, my plate rattling back on the table. “I’m going to wash up.” Before he could argue any more with me, I hurried out of the kitchen, brushing past the bewildered old widow. The trough was right out back, hidden in the shade of the house so the water was still chilled. It felt delicious, shocking, and refreshing as I splashed it up into my face, rubbing water droplets into my neck and behind my ears. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. For a while I just stood by the trough, gazing around at the open land around the old widow’s home. The land here wasn’t as lush and green as Vasterya. There was a browny-bronze tinge to everything that suggested the land existed in a state of near autumn all year round, contrary to the heat of the sun. There was more rainfall in Daeronia during the summer months than anywhere else bar Alvernia. It was colder too, the further north you crept. I decided I liked the air in Daeronia, however. Not only were we still close enough to brewery land to smell the sweetness in the air but it was joined by a crisp freshness that you just didn’t get in the other provinces during the summer months. It was always so humid everywhere else.
Deciding I had prolonged my visit to the trough as long as I could, I headed back into kitchen, heart pounding, dreading what was awaiting me. Wolfe stood watching for me, his expression carefully blank.