Page 9

9

“A good shoulder should never be covered.”

Nia Quill, An Observation

M y reflection blinks back at me as I stare at myself in the mirror. The bedroom I’ve been given is like its own greenhouse, with ferns and ivy flowing like waterfalls from their pots affixed to the white-washed stones. Behind me, Nia hums off-key and without any recognizable tune as she finishes my hair.

She plaited the heavy strands into an intricate braid, weaving in a few of the ribbons she’s so fond of. With her help, it didn’t take hours to comb.

Nia sticks in another pin to keep the braid in place, scraping my scalp and earning yet another hiss from me. She might be a sorceress with my hair, but she’s also a bit of a sadist with the bloomin’ pins.

“Are you sure you want to cut it?” she asks. “I would kill for this length.”

“It’s impossible to manage on my own,” I grit through a wince, my poor skull pulsing.

The corners of her lips lift. “If you marry Ronan, you won’t be on your own.”

True. A princess would have a whole bevy of servants at her beck and call, which sounds wonderful in theory. But I enjoy baking and mending—and even cleaning, on occasion. If there are maids and servants to complete all those tasks, what would I do all day?

If our forbidden excursion into the city yesterday tells me anything, it’s that I am no good at sitting around.

I offer a non-committal “We’ll see,” to avoid hearing yet another monologue on the merits of being a princess.

There’s no point dreaming of crowns and thrones when Ronan is bound to come to his senses and set his sights on someone more suitable, like a wealthy heiress or a foreign princess who already knows how to be royalty.

“What are your plans for the day?” I ask.

“I’m meeting Nolan for tea.”

“Is that a euphemism?”

She whaps my arm with a giggle. “Oh, you! Stop that now. Nolan and I are very respectable.”

“The way he wore your lip stain two nights ago would suggest otherwise.”

Her skirts billow as she plops onto the edge of my unmade bed. “A few stolen kisses, that’s all. Everyone does it.”

If only that were true. “Not everyone,” I grumble.

Nia’s hand snaps out, her cool fingers encircling my wrist. “Wait. Are you saying you haven’t kissed anyone? ”

“Who was I to kiss? My brother or the neighbor’s goats?”

“Oh, Kerris! You poor thing. You simply must kiss Ronan. I hear he has a wealth of experience and is well-versed in the art of lovemaking.”

“I am not interested in Ronan’s… lovemaking .” Heavens, above. Imagine me , bedding a bloody prince. Utterly ridiculous.

A knock reverberates up the stairwell, and my pulse speeds at the noise. Downstairs, I hear my aunt offer a friendly greeting, followed by a familiar voice.

“He’s here!” Nia launches to her feet and drags me to mine. “Your sleeves would look better down.” She tugs them off my arms, exposing my shoulders.

“What are you talking about? They’re supposed to be up.” I put them back where they belong. There. Nice and respectable.

“No, they’re supposed to be down .” She yanks them down once more, and when I go to fix them again, she raps my knuckles. “Don’t you dare touch them. You already insisted on lacing your corset all the way; give me this one thing. Please?”

I only insisted on lacing my corset because my breasts would fall out otherwise. I suppose my sleeves don’t look too scandalous down. “Fine.”

“Ah! Thank you! You are perfect, Kerris. Just perfect.” Her warm hands come over my shoulders, squeezing tightly. “Remember: Ronan is the one who must work for your proposal, not the other way around.” Her eyes sparkle. “And for the love of all that is holy, let that man kiss you.”

* * *

I catch my skirts to keep from tumbling down the steep stairs and descend to where Ronan waits at the door with my aunt in a shirt as blue as his eyes. When the prince sees me, his mouth curves into an appreciative smile.

Let that man kiss you .

The thought of his lips on mine makes me nervous and excited and maybe a tiny bit sick to my stomach. Perhaps there is some merit to the idea. I don’t have to marry the man to let him kiss me, do I? Don’t I owe it to my future mate to have at least a little experience?

My aunt opens the door for us. “Have fun, you two.”

Ronan inclines his head. “Thank you, Mrs. Quill. Are you ready, Kerris?”

As ready as I’ll ever be.

The sleeves of his shirt have been rolled to his elbows, exposing a pair of tanned forearms. Taking his proffered arm, I let him lead me out into the sunny day. Wisps of white dot the blue sky overhead as we traverse the path to the bustling sidewalk.

“You look stunning,” he whispers.

Heat blooms up my throat, burning a path to my jaw. “Thank you.”

“How did you fare yesterday?”

My mind leaps straight to the tall, toned Unseelie we saw at the well. I press a hand to my fluttering stomach, willing my voice to remain calm instead of giddy. “I found it difficult to stay inside.”

“But you did stay in, didn’t you? There’s no telling what those beasts are capable of. I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to you.”

“I appreciate your concern.” Although it is entirely unnecessary. The leader saw me, and nothing came of it.

Instead of continuing toward the city center, Ronan takes a sharp left, bringing me to an area of the city I’ve yet to explore. Each cottage is larger and grander than the one before it—so grand, I’m not sure they can be called cottages at all. The roofs morph from thatch to slate, the windows growing and growing until they become walls of glass overlooking gardens so magnificent, they belong in a storybook.

“Where are we going?”

He pats my knuckles with his warm, smooth hand. “Do you recall me confessing my secret passion in the garden?”

The garden where he almost kissed me.

Is he going to try to kiss me again?

“Of course I do.”

His blue eyes glitter with his blinding smile. “I want to show you what I’ve been building.”

We cut through a side street, emerging across from the treehouse I saw the day I first arrived. Lilacs tremble from bushes on either side of a wide staircase that climbs to a porch encircling the trunk. The door has been built into the bark, with the scrolled iron hinges painted black. Each of the thick upper limbs holds another level, the pitched roofs made not of slate or thatch, but of woven branches.

“That is the loveliest house I’ve ever seen.” When I was a little girl, there was an apple tree in one of our fields that I claimed as my own. In the years after my mother passed, I spent more time in that tree than on solid ground.

“The inside is even more remarkable.”

“Do you know the owner?” I’d love a chance to see it someday.

Ronan unlatches the gate. “Kerris, I am the owner.”

This place is his ? When he said he liked building things, I assumed he made toys or little wooden figures, not houses. “You built this ?”

“No, but I designed it as a summer house.”

A summer house twice as big as the cottage I grew up in by the looks of it. The sanded oak banister slips beneath my fingers, glossy and smooth with fresh lacquer. Up the stairs we climb, my excitement doubling with each step toward the intricate facade.

The main door leads to a modest foyer that opens into a larger living room with a black stove and a kitchen boasting deep green cabinets. Every detail has been carefully thought out, even down to the brass knobs shaped like twigs.

“Ronan, this is… It’s remarkable.” One room flows into the next, with small staircases leading to bedrooms and a bathing room perched at the end of a branch all by itself, overlooking Rosehill.

Ronan watches me with a shoulder propped against the doorframe. “Do you really like it?”

Who wouldn’t? I trace my fingers along the carved headboard in the largest bedroom, marveling over each divot. “It’s unlike any home I’ve ever seen.”

He glances down, his cheeks flushing. “Do you really think so? My mother says it’s too whimsical.”

The queen couldn’t be more wrong. Even if this home isn’t her style or preference, there is no denying the talent it took to create something so beautiful. “It’s perfect.”

He pushes off the frame, stepping closer. “It could be yours, you know. If you were to marry me.”

A tempting offer, but a house—even one as fine as this—doesn’t make a marriage. It’s the people who live in it. As talented as Ronan may be, we only just met. Yes, he is handsome and rich, but he is also a stranger.

Who is he deep down? Is he caring? Giving? Does he understand that true beauty doesn’t live on the surface, but in a person’s heart? In their soul?

I sink onto the end of the bed and tuck my hands beneath my thighs to keep from fidgeting. “I hear that you’ve been fending off marriage proposals for years. Why are you so interested in matrimony now?”

He pauses, as if genuinely considering his answer. “I feel as if I’ve been waiting.”

I’ve been waiting.

I’ve been waiting.

I’ve been waiting.

When I speak, my voice is no more than a whisper. “Waiting for what?”

The legs of his trousers brush against the silk of my skirts. “For this house to be finished so that I have a place of my own.”

Disappointment sinks like a stone in my stomach. Not that I expected him to say, “For you,” considering we only just met. That would be madness.

Still, a small part of me had hoped for such a confession.

That someone would see me and know .

* * *

Ronan spends the rest of the walk into town pointing out who lives where, naming fae I’ve never even heard of. He is a wealth of information, responding to any questions I have about the city or the buildings with clear, concise answers.

When we finally reach the tea house, we’re given a table along the cobblestone walk where the rich perfume of roses sweetens every inhale. I add honey to my tea, preferring it extra sweet. The peach and blueberry pie served with vanilla custard is transcendent, although the servings are so large, we cannot finish it all.

We talk about everything and nothing, life in the mountains and in the castle, the people we grew up with, and the people we want to be.

Ronan has just refilled our teacups when I catch a glimpse of his friend Trevor making his way up the lane. When Trevor glances at the tea house, our eyes meet, and his lips curve into a smile.

Then he sees Ronan sitting across from me, and his smile fades to a frown.

At first, Ronan doesn’t seem to notice Trevor, but when he does, the prince waves him over to our table.

Trevor slips off his glasses, tucking them into the leather satchel slung across his chest before running a hand through his chestnut hair. “Good to see you again, Kerris. Ronan.”

Leaning back in his chair, Ronan drapes an arm over mine. “Fancy meeting you here, Trev.”

“You mean at the restaurant where I come for lunch every day? Yes. What a coincidence.”

Hold on. Did Ronan choose this place because he knew Trevor would be here? If so, that was dreadfully underhanded. I might be out with the prince today, but that doesn’t give him the right to scare away any other potential suitors.

“I’m looking forward to our tea tomorrow, Trevor,” I say, making it clear that my decision has not been made. Yes, I had fun today, but I could have even more fun with Trevor tomorrow.

Trevor’s whole countenance brightens, his spine and shoulders straightening. “I was thinking we could go to dinner instead, if that’s all right with you?”

“Dinner sounds wonderful.” When I get back to the house, I’ll have to bring my mother’s dresses to Madame Ella to see if she can alter any in time for the date. It seems such a silly, senseless thing, but I’d hate to wear the same gown two dates in a row.

Trevor deserves his own dress.

Trevor tells us goodbye and makes his way further into the tea house to sit at a table all by himself.

Setting my teacup down, I try to read Ronan’s expression but come up short. “May I ask you something?”

He flashes me a blinding smile. “You can ask me anything.”

I could tell him there’s a bit of blueberry stuck between his front teeth, but that will depend on how he answers my next question. “Did you choose this tea house because you knew Trevor would be here?”

He glances away, his cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink that has nothing to do with the sun washing over us. “I didn’t not choose it for that reason.”

That’s what I thought. “I am not a prize to be won, Ronan.” I am a woman who deserves to make up her own mind.

He sits up, his hands finding mine. “But you are, Kerris. And if I must fight dirty for your proposal, I will.”

I’m not sure whether to be flattered or appalled.

Perhaps a bit of both.

But since I do not approve of his underhandedness, I don’t tell him about the blueberry.

* * *

After tea, Ronan makes a quick trip to the privy. When he returns, the berry has been removed from between his teeth.

He doesn’t mention it, and neither do I.

The walk back to the cottage is pleasant enough, and as we stroll down the path, I decide that if the prince wants to kiss me, I’m going to let him.

When we reach the stoop, I linger instead of running straight inside.

His hands find my hips, drawing us closer. “Thank you for today. I truly enjoyed your company.”

You can do this. You are a strong, capable woman. I force air into my lungs, dying with anticipation as his gaze drops to my lips. “I enjoyed your company as well,” I manage to say with only the slightest tremor in my voice.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he lowers his mouth to mine. The warm press of his lips spins my mind like a top. He grips me tighter, using his mouth to part mine, and then something happens that is so unexpected, I let out a mortifying squeak of surprise.

Ronan sticks his tongue inside my mouth.

What am I supposed to do? Do I move my tongue? Do I try to hide it?

The moment his tongue retreats, I blurt, “I need to go,” like a total loon, and then escape into the house.

The moment the door closes, Nia leaps off the sofa and starts bouncing on her toes, asking if I let him kiss me.

My cheeks burn even hotter. “I did.”

Her piercing squeal rattles my eardrums, and she holds both of her fists in front of her grin. “ And ?”

“And he used his tongue. Is that normal?”

She doubles over in a fit of laughter. “Oh, Kerris. You are my favorite person in the world.”

She is mine as well, but that still doesn’t answer my question.