Chapter Text
The Sidra’s turquoise water trailed between her fingers, as cool and smooth as it had promised from the distant shore. High grey clouds and freshly jeweled leaves framed the winding river.
The current pops and whirling silenced the woods but she felt the breeze that rustled through the leaves on her brow.
Swallows darted overhead, devouring unfortunate gnats, swooping low and skimming the river, folding and spreading their wings with ease on the invisible drafts.
Mimicking their movements with raised arms she was propelled around and around.
What would it be to truly fly?
The river felt like capable hands coaxing out the knots in her shoulders, the tension seeping down stream to Velaris, back to their source.
Flexing her up-raised hand her thoughts lingered on the touch that kept her awake until the morning star rose to meet the setting moon.
Her hands hit the water and she loosed a groan.
She doubted he’d lost anytime thinking about her, fleeting or otherwise.
If he’d recognized her, he wouldn’t have stared wide eyed and held on a moment too long. While her pearled gown and elegant hair warranted his closer regard, it must not have been obvious who she was. Though how many servants did he look at but not see?
She briefly felt bad for her deception. Anyone else would have done the same for Jean. He was for her family, she had too.
The thick afternoon light began to dissolve the clouds.
Another westerly gust rushed over, fluttering the light. Their wings move so beautifully through the air, she thought. A large shadow skimmed the edge of her vision.
Out across the water came a ‘watch out’ that she would not hear.
The blur crashed down, pain lanced through her skull. Water rushed in burning her nose and throat. A ringing pitched as she was tugged down through the dark shades of blue of the Sidra.
———
Rivulets traced down the delicate arches of the collarbone and her throat fluttered as she turned in his arms. Her wet tangles of hair were as snarled as the jasmine vines above, sweet and wild.
A deep honey gold strand slipped over her eyes but he held still. That she should end up in his arms, after a single day, seemed an impossible favor to repay to the gods.
As he lowered her onto her side she released river water, the contrast between her neck and his hands - he was glad she was turned away.
——
‘What happened? Don't tell me your charm knocked her out.’ A female voice jabbed.
‘Are you alright?’ a man's voice asked, low and close.
‘Of course not, she nearly drowned’.
His arms flexed under her shoulders and knees.
‘No thanks to your flying invention’
‘Yes, that you were supposed to not crash into the first innocent woman that passed by’.
His broad chest puffed with what felt like a snort, the jostle pushed Elain to open her eyes.
A bleary face stared back, strange, so few people came this far out into the forest.
Cicadas whirred from the trees. Her head started to throb.
The emerging sun ringed dark hair, that this close, she could tell curled at its tips, even though it was kept short. A bead of water caught on a glint of gold in his ear.
Bandits?
‘Slowly, you've had a blow.’ The tone soft and warm.
The face, growing familiar, was as she recalled but her memory did not do it justice.
His eyes glowing like the sun on autumn’s leaves.
A hand brushed against a wrist and she felt her pulse dip like the hunting swallows. The space between them was half of what it should be.
‘Your highness!’ is what she wanted to say but an ‘Oof’ of their foreheads knocking together came out instead.
‘I must sit up’ she croaked out and with focused clarity she heaved, sodden dress and all, to the nearest log.
His hands pulled back, obviously realizing the impropriety of the silent offer.
——
‘Señora Amren, this is the Comtesse Archeron. She is from…’, he wavered. ‘She's visiting our court. We’ve just been introduced’.
He realized he in fact did not know anything about her. Other than a dedication to her servant. And little interest in speaking with him. Had that changed?
Noticing Senora Amren's supply cart the Comtesse shifted to scan the shoreline.
‘Comtesse, Senora Amren is an inventor and will be in residence at the palace.’
Elain's head dipped, ‘Madam, how wonderful for the Velarian court.’ A tiny spark of recognition or genuine interest lit in her tone.
‘Yes, it's all very exciting’, the Senora spoke so flatly that neither one was sure how she meant it. But clearing her throat she continued, ‘Well, I must continue my work.’ Gathering the wood and rope remnants she pivoted and did not wait for a reply.
Courtiers were typically eager to hold his attention, hoping to gain his favor. Apparently, neither of these ladies were interested in that.
The Comtesse efficiently squeezed the water from her long hair and then began on her tan shift, releasing several huffs as she progressed downward.
The dress clung to her, the fabric thin and rough but sheer at the curve of her hip and now he knew what it felt like to brush his thumb there, and felt guilty for the warmth low in his chest.
Her eyes trailed over but avoided his gaze.
Then the thought came to him that perhaps she didn't want anything from him at all and a sensation passed over his shoulders, loosening them like a swallow ready to take flight.
——
He did not recognize her. Perhaps his sight needed improvement. Was it a regular occurrence for him to be pelted with fruit and not notice the assailant's face? Was she so different in appearance from their first meeting in the orchard to their next?
The pause was as thick as the balmy air, quickly filled by the cicadas' unrelenting calls.
The silence stretched, their thrum increasing.
What does one say to a prince?
She’d expected her pulse to slow once she perched on the log but it did no such thing. Her throat dipped and he looked over to her.
Had he become more handsome? He couldn’t have. Yes. No, she’d just forgotten. Or had tried too.
In the silence he took up a stick. Why was he lingering?
’Are you alone? Where is your man?’ He prodded some ungovernable vines.
‘I, um, he has the day off.’ Entirely a mistruth.
His grip tightened and he jabbed the vines again.
‘And you have no other attendants?’
Was he concerned about propriety? For him or her?
‘With preparations for Solstice I did want to add to their burdens.’ Verity.
He nodded absently.
The wind picked up bringing heavy air from the river, chilling her skin, the taste of the river water camped in her mouth and she shivered.
He frowned and retrieved his cape from the cart to offer it.
‘Thank you’
Brushing her nose against the heavy velvet, it was scented. She'd never smelt that before and her heart inexplicably fluttered.
He stepped back, shoving his hands into his pockets.
‘Do you always have a cape?’
‘Well, I am a prince’, deploying a charming smile but after a moment he dropped it, cleared his throat and ran a hand through his wet hair.
Shifting the garment she found a small inner pocket, the soft velvet hardly crushed.
The cicadas began pulsating together.
‘But it's what they do.’ his voice lighthearted.
‘Well, accompanying me on a walk is not the best use of their limited time’, her tone was neutral.
He turned to her fully, broad shoulders and all.
At the edge of the tree line where light and shadow met, she swore she saw a wobble and something skitter along into the thicket. He turned to follow her line of sight.
A cloud passed in front of the sun.
‘The woods are a wild place.’ The words came out slow and measured.
‘Hardly. I walk here regularly.’ Why did she feel the need to challenge him. Or let him know anything about her life.
A prickle passed by her ankle but nothing was there.
‘You never know who you’ll meet.’
In all the years she’d walked the woods no one had bothered her. Yet. Maybe he meant bandits.
Squaring her shoulders, under the large cape she must have looked like she was squirming.
‘I, like those vines, am not easily cowed.’
‘I believe you’, he ran his fingers through his dark hair and rubbed his forehead, holding her gaze.
She stilled, gripping the cloak. Did he truly not recognize her?
He smiled and the hard amber of his eyes speared through her nerves.
Her chest tightened. The cicadas cries rose.
The clouds had rallied, shifting the skies back to slate gray. A rumble rolled over and a crack of lightning broke the moment.
His stick fell to the gravel and the promise the thunder brought delivered, the rush of water crashed down washing away the sweltering heat.
The cicadas finally relented.
——
Her shift clung heavily to her warm skin, heart thrumming like the swallows beating wings.
His eyes darted along her collarbone and sprung as fast as a rabbit back out to the river.
‘I’m sorry’, throat dipping aggressively.
‘I’m sorry’, his repetition softer.
‘For what?’
His exhale was the definition of exasperation but he continued,
‘For annoying you so’ his voice as soft as a confession.
‘Oh’, and she laughed despite herself, low and gentle,
‘And for your head. I will leave flying to the birds.’
‘For that notion I will not blame you, I would love to fly’, the warmth in her tone made him look back from the river.
‘Who wouldn’t?’
The pause stretched.
‘And I will talk to the steward about the servants having more time of their own for Solstice.’
‘That would be kind of you’.
She smiled and it pleased him.
————
A fanfare of trumpets rose in the distance, from high above the city's walls.
He paused and marked the sound like the herald called him personally. A discomfort on his face remained when he turned back, his gaze so intense as if he hoped to ignore the summons.
‘Day after tomorrow I am playing with the Marquise’,
‘Play?’ she adjusted the cloak,
‘Royal tennis’ A game for the nobility, and the spectators are part of the action. When the prince played everyone would come. Including her step-family. Her throat dried.
‘You should be there, it is a good chance to meet other courtiers. It can get quite lively. Bring your cousin, of course’
A direct invite was difficult to reject. She hadn’t planned to see him again and the thought left her a little morose.
The herald repeated at what sounded like a faster pace.
He shuffled and ran a hand over his black doublet then turned away.
‘You can bring that with you’, he called back as he stepped down the embankment and passed into the woods.
She brushed her nose along the collar but the rain had already seeped in dissolving his scent, then whispered,
‘I will be there’
———
A wobbling golden light vanished around the gate and the crunch of pebbles under wheels faded, the family crest familiar but too shadowed to be certain. It was late for guests at the manor. Pushing through the kitchen door, the smell of salted fish and sharp tang of vinegar rushed at her. Nuala and Cerri stopped their conversation at the sound of the tired hinges, elbows deep in dirty dishes.
‘Who’s carriage was that?’ Please say it was an apparition, no more than an imagining.
After a beat too long, Cerri shoulders dropped, Nu’s hands paused, and Jean barreled in,
‘That lord is away and may we never set sights on him again, I had better treatment in the stocks.’
‘What Lord?’ Elain shot out.
‘Grayson’