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He stood between the apple trees. The wind teased his blond hair, his eyes such a mournful blue. Always too ethereal. Always too real.

Briar’s whisper broke my trance, her arm briefly linking through mine. “By the way, I planned this.”

And in record time, it seemed. She took her leave, saying to Aire on her way, “Formally, I shall deal with you later.”

I watched the princess and the burly guard leave.

And then I watched the knight come to me.

35

Fantasy

Only seconds, but it felt like time itself had to leap across bridges, over rivers, and through forests. That’s how long it took for him to reach me. So long that I felt winded.

And speaking of the wind, it followed him. It billowed the hem of his long suede vest and the linen shirt-sleeves underneath, flapping them against the wingspan of his arms.

Around us, warblers flocked to branches, their metallic trill giving the impression they knew him. Aire drew color and creatures from the sky.

Actually, no. He’d always looked upward, to the clouds, to the gales, to the animals that soared. But he didn’t do that to claim nature. He did it to listen, to see, to feel. He did it to bond with nature.

Because of that, it answered. The sky had gifted itself to him in a peculiar way, but he bore it with honor, without question. That’s what he did.

And that didn’t make him lofty. He stood right here, on the ground, just as I did.

As he came nearer, his gaze never left mine. Had it ever?

Keep watching me.

Watch me, Aire.

Watch.

We’d been in my bed when I said that to him, ages ago and not long at all. He’d been above me, inside me. I’d told him to keep looking, keep watching. I’d wanted him to know it was me that he made love to.

I shouldn’t have doubted it.

In some ways, he shouldn’t have doubted me, either.

His face held no remorse or bliss. It was the air, blowing right at me. It was a held breath, at a standstill, at an impasse.

Ugh. The sappy prose that filled my mind because of him. But that was okay, because it was honest.

Leaves skipped around his limbs until he stopped before me. At a loss, he bent his head to glance at our boots, the tips bumping. Meanwhile, I wondered about the earth and sky. At what point did they meet? Along the fringes of a wheat field? At the edge of a branch?

Or did they meet everywhere and nowhere?

Weaponless, we stood there. Motionless, we stood there.

We wavered, neither of us daring to speak, both of us wanting to speak. An apple tree spread itself above us, its branches reaching like arms, its fingers curling. But we kept our faces down, fixated on the parallel of our bodies.

When he licked his lips, I opened my mouth.

“I want—”

“I need—”

Our heads lifted. We laughed, because which of us had said what?