Page 24

C ATHERINE WAS TREMBLING by the time she retreated to her bedroom, dizzy with the King’s visit. Mary Ann had started a fire some hours ago, and the room was filled with a pleasant warmth that Cath couldn’t enjoy. She sank into her vanity chair with a groan.

She was officially courting the King.

Or, rather, the King was courting her.

And soon all the kingdom would know about it.

A knock startled her, but it was only Mary Ann. She shut the door and fell against it. “Cath!”

Catherine held up a hand before Mary Ann could say more. “If you should dare to congratulate me, I will never speak to you again.”

Mary Ann hesitated, and Cath could see her thoughts rearranging inside her head. “You’re… unhappy?”

“Yes, I’m unhappy. Remember before when I said I didn’t want to marry him, that I didn’t want to be queen? I meant it!”

Mary Ann slumped, crestfallen.

“Oh, don’t look like that. It is a great honor. I suppose.”

“Maybe the courtship will change your mind?”

“I’m hoping it will change his mind.” She rubbed her temple. “I have no idea what I’ll do if he proposes. When he proposes.”

“Oh, Cath…” Mary Ann crossed the room to wrap her in a sideways hug. “It will be all right. You’re not married yet. You can still say no. ”

“Can I? And risk my mother’s tyranny and disappointment for the rest of my life?”

“It’s your life, not hers.”

Catherine sighed. “I don’t know how I’ve let it get this far already. I wanted to say no, but Mother and Father were right there, looking so eager, and the King looked so desperate, and I just… I didn’t know what else to do. Now everything is more boggled up than before.”

“Yes, but nothing that can’t still be made right.” Mary Ann soothed down her hair. “Shall I bring up some tea to calm your nerves? Or—perhaps some of that bread pudding?”

Cath’s heart lightened. “Could you? Oh, but help me take down my hair first. I feel like I’ve had these pins in for a week.”

She turned so Mary Ann could begin pulling out the pins and her eyes alighted on the diamond-paned window. A single white rose rested on the outside sill.

She stifled a gasp.

Mary Ann was talking, but Cath didn’t hear a word. Her hair cascaded, layer by layer, across her shoulders.

She averted her gaze from the flower, her heart beginning to pound. “Do you think I’m being silly?” she asked. “About the King?”

“We can’t choose where our affections lie,” said Mary Ann.

She set the hairpins on the vanity and began turning down the bed linens, careful to avoid the thorny rose branches that were still wrapped around the bedposts.

Cath’s mother had decided to leave it for a time, in hopes that it would keep any further dream-plants away.

“For what it’s worth, though, I think the King is…

a sweet man. And his affection for you is more than apparent. ”

Cath watched Mary Ann work, though it was torture to keep her eyes away from the window. Already she was thinking she’d only imagined the rose, but she dared not look again for fear it would catch Mary Ann’s attention too .

Which was peculiar, this instinct to keep it a secret.

Never in her life had she hidden anything from Mary Ann.

But the rose felt like a whispered message, a hushed glance across a crowded room.

Something precious and not to be shared.

Something that she didn’t think practical Mary Ann would understand.

“I’ve changed my mind about the bread pudding, and the tea. I have no appetite.”

Mary Ann glanced up from fluffing her pillow. “Are you ill?”

Catherine laughed, the sound strained and high-pitched. “Not at all, just needing a moment of peace. I might stay up and read for a while. I’m not tired. You needn’t bother with all that.”

“Oh. Would you like me to stay? We could play a game, or—”

“No, no. Thank you. I… I’d like to be alone. I think I need to sort through everything that’s happened.”

Mary Ann’s face softened. “Of course. Good night, Cath.” She left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Catherine fought the whirlwind of nerves in her stomach as she listened to the sound of Mary Ann’s footfalls receding down the hall. To the creaking of the house around her.

She forced herself to face the window.

She hadn’t imagined it. One perfect white rose on a long stem had been laid atop the windowsill so that the flower was framed by the harlequin-shaped leading.

She approached the window with a racing pulse and lifted the sash. Careful of the thorns, she took the flower between her fingers.

The night air carried a citrus scent, and looking out, she saw that the lemon tree that had been replanted beneath her window had already grown up to this second story, its dark boughs full of yellow fruit.

She scanned the branches, then down to the lawn and garden, but the nighttime produced only shadows .

Another glance upward, and this time she spotted tiny black eyes. She reeled back, dropping the rose at her feet.

The Raven inclined his head. Or, she thought he did. His inky feathers were almost invisible in the darkness.

“Hello again,” she said, shivering in the night air.

“Good eve, fair lady, your forgiveness we implore, to come so brashly tapping, tapping at your chamber door.”

“Oh, well, this isn’t exactly my chamber door. More like a window, actually.”

The Raven bobbed his head. “I made some alterations for the sake of the rhyme.”

“I see. Well—good evening, fair Raven, my forgiveness I bestow, for this uncanny meeting outside of my window.”

A boisterous laugh startled Catherine, sending her heart into her throat.

In his black motley, he was nearly impossible to see in the shadows, perched in the crook of a tree branch. He looked mysterious and elegant, his gold eyes glinting in the light of her bedroom’s fire.

“That was impressive, wasn’t it, Raven?” Jest said. “The lady is a natural poet.”

“What are you doing here?” asked Catherine. “I thought you left with the King.”

“He had no further need of me tonight, so I took my leave. I thought I could take a walk, look around. I’m still new to these parts.”

“But you’re not walking. You’re climbing trees.”

“It’s still exercise.”

Catherine leaned farther out the window. “The courtship was your idea, wasn’t it?”

His smile faded and in the darkness he looked almost uncomfortable. “I hope I haven’t overstepped, my lady. But it seemed, from your reaction at the party today, that you would prefer a proposal of courtship to a proposal of marriage.”

She pressed her lips.

“Although it would also seem,” Jest continued, his voice sympathetic, “that you don’t particularly want either one.”

“You must think I’m a fool to even consider rejecting him.”

“My lady, I am a professional fool. I can say with certainty that you do not have the makings of one.”

She smirked. “Then that’s a relief.”

“Is it? Have you something against fools?”

“Not at all. Only, if I were as natural at foolishness as I am at poetry, I might try to take your position from you, and you seem so very well suited to it.”

His body shifted—a melting of his muscles—and she realized that he was relaxing. She hadn’t seen the tension in his body until it was gone. “It does seem to suit me,” he said, “though I daresay the hat would look better on you.” He shook his head, just enough to make the bells jingle.

Their smiles met each other across the darkness, tentative and a bit shy.

The moment was shattered by footsteps in the hall. Cath gasped and spun around, her pulse racing—but the steps continued on. Probably her father, retreating to his library for the evening.

She let out a slow breath, feeling the hard thump of her heart beneath her fingertips.

Turning back, she saw that Jest hadn’t moved from his perch, although his body was taut again.

“Well,” she said, trying to keep her voice light, though it trembled a little, “it seems that whether or not I wanted a courtship, I now have one. Thank you for your… involvement, but you should probably leave, before someone sees you.” She reached for the window sash .

“Wait!” Jest slipped off his bough, skipping across a few branches until he was arm’s reach from her. He made it look as simple as walking on flat ground. “Is there someone else?”

She paused. “I beg your pardon?”

“Are you in love with someone else?”

She stiffened, bewildered. “Why would you ask me that?”

“I thought maybe that’s why you’re opposed to the King. I thought you might have already given your heart away to someone else, but maybe… maybe it’s someone your parents wouldn’t be so quick to approve of.”

She started to shake her head. “No, there isn’t anyone else.”

“You’re sure?”

She was surprised at the dart of annoyance that stuck in her ribs. “If I had given my heart to someone else, I surely think I would know of it.”

His shoulders sloped downward, though his hands were still securing him to an overhead branch. He looked almost relieved, but also confused. “Of course you would.”

“Don’t misunderstand me,” said Catherine. “I am fond of the King. I just…”

“You don’t have to explain it to me, Lady Pinkerton. I’ll admit I’ve grown fond of the King myself, though I haven’t known him long. Nevertheless, I think I understand you.”

It was a kindness, saying it, when Catherine felt wholly treasonous at her lack of affection for the King.

“I’m fond of you too, I think.”

She laughed at the unexpected compliment. Or what she thought might be a compliment. It didn’t seem romantic enough to qualify as a confession. “Me?”

“Yes. You’re different from the other lords and ladies here. I’m sure that any other girl would have screamed and started throwing rocks at me if I showed up at her bedroom window. ”

“I don’t keep a very large supply of rocks up here.

” A sudden bout of heat rushed up her throat, realizing that he was right.

There was a boy at her window. At night.

They were alone—excepting his Raven friend, at least .

She frowned. “Though if you’re insinuating that I might have questionable morals, you are sadly mistaken. ”

His eyes widened. “That’s not—” He paused, and suddenly started to chuckle. “It was intended as a kindness, I assure you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Either way, I think you’re wrong. I’m not different. I’m…”

He waited.

She swallowed, hard, a twitch starting in her cheek. “What do you mean by that, anyway? Calling me different. ”

“It’s true. I knew it from the moment I saw you twirling at the ball, your arms raised as if you hadn’t a care in all the world.”

She blinked.

“Of all those ladies and all those gentlemen, you were the only one who twirled.”

“You saw that?”

“In that gown, it would have been difficult not to.”

She wrinkled her nose. “My mother chose it. She thought it would be my engagement ball. I honestly had no idea.”

“I see that now.” He squinted at her and opened his mouth once to speak, but closed it again.

Catherine swallowed. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m not entirely sure that’s true.” He lowered himself on the branch, like a cat ready to spring. “Lady Pinkerton, have you ever been to a real tea party?”

“Oh, countless.”

“No, my lady, not like at the castle today. I mean, a real one.”

The question crystallized between them as Catherine shifted through all the parties, galas, gatherings she’d attended over the years, and she couldn’t fathom what he meant.

“I… I suppose I’m not sure.”

He smiled, a little mischievously. “Would you like to?”