The Hill of Remembrance had a serene beauty about it in the moonlight. Row after row of white monuments spread out across the hillside and beyond, so bright that they almost glowed against the backdrop of green grass darkened by night. But something twisted in my stomach at the sight of all the headstones, marking the place of the dead, and I looked down at my feet so I didn’t have to see the graves passing us by. Chevalier’s black boots kept an even rhythm next to the simple brown flats I chose before rushing from my room to meet him. I wouldn’t have been so eager if I knew this was where he was taking me.
“Why did you bring me here, Chevalier?” I asked quietly.
There was a beat of silence marked by three steps before he answered.
“We never finished our conversation following our last visit here. You asked my reasons for visiting a grave, but Clavis interrupted before I could hear yours.”
The last time we were here. Less than three months ago - a lifetime. Mother was still alive, and I was still doing everything in my power to avoid the truth of her impending death. The assassination attempt was still fresh in my mind, as was the pain of Chevalier’s failed attempt to drive me away for my own good. He’d shattered my heart into a million pieces, and yet, somehow, when he brought me here only two days later, to the Hill of Remembrance, to visit the grave of a guard I didn’t even know had died, we were closer than ever.
“You said mourning the dead was pointless,” I said slowly, trying to remember what I thought and felt the afternoon when we started this discussion. “That you visited the graves of your knights to memorize their names so you could continue their legacy. I hadn’t experienced death before then, not personally, and I didn’t know that guard well enough to truly mourn him, but I appreciated the opportunity to say goodbye. People need that.” I shrugged. “Maybe that’s what mourning is. I don’t know.”
Another few steps in silence.
“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me to bring you here and to your mother’s grave,” he said quietly.
The twisting in my stomach moved up to my chest. I shook my head, swallowing down the lump that rose in my throat and shoving the thought of Mother away to focus on the problem in front of me.
“It’s my fault those guards died,” I said bitterly.
“No, it isn’t.”
“But it is,” I insisted. “If I’d just come back to the palace with you, then-”
“Considering alternate possibilities is an exercise in futility,” he interrupted me. “There is no changing the past. You were grieving your mother’s death, and Flandre hired a group of trained assassins to take advantage of your vulnerability. The fault lies with him and with the men who dispatched the guards and abducted you. You have no reason to feel guilty.”
I bit my lip to keep it from trembling as his words echoed in my head. Part rebuke, part reassurance, delivered in a tone that was neither gentle nor harsh, but firm, leaving no room for question. Just like he did after Jack assaulted me. The first day that I felt the security of his embrace.
I really wanted to feel it now.
“You have yet to explain why you haven’t asked to visit your mother’s grave.”
A tear slipped down my cheek. I brushed it away, blinking furiously to stop more from falling.
“I heard you last night,” he continued, his voice softening into a gentle tone that made my chest hurt more.
“How?” I asked thickly.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk. Voices carry well on a quiet night.”
I pressed my lips together and squeezed my eyes shut. That meant the guards stationed in the gardens to watch my balcony heard everything, too.
“What you said clarified a few things about you that have puzzled me. Why you insist on taking the blame for others’ pain; why you refuse to ask for help; why you believe you can’t rely on others and nobody cares about you, even when you’re surrounded by people who prove the opposite. But what I still don’t understand is why you’re avoiding your mother’s grave. Unless you feel guilty about her death, too.”
I shrugged helplessly. The tears were flowing freely now, dripping from my nose and my chin to the grass beneath my feet. Everything he said rang true. If I hadn’t been born, or I had been a boy, Mother would have come to the palace for help. She never would have endured any of the pain and suffering I saw her face every day. Maybe she’d still be alive.
But that wasn’t the reason I didn’t want to see her grave. I hadn’t thought about it before - I’d tried not to think about it - but it hit me now like a punch to my stomach. Chevalier stopped, and I stopped, too, opening my eyes to see his black boots moving to face me. His fingers caught my chin and tilted it up to meet his pale blue eyes, searching mine. I didn’t know if he’d find the answer there. He deserved to hear it, though, and I needed to say it.
“I don’t want to say goodbye,” I whispered.
He studied me for a moment, and then he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around me. I buried my face in his chest, returning his embrace as the tears continued to fall. The warmth and security I wanted so desperately was right here, with him, stroking my hair in that comforting way Mother always did, holding me tightly and gently against the steady beat of his heart. I wanted to tell him how good it felt, how much I relied on him, how much I needed him, but I couldn’t speak. I just cried in silence. And he just held me, the way he’d always done since the first surprising embrace after Jack.
“Why do you put up with me?” I mumbled into his jacket when the flow of tears slowed. I felt his kiss on top of my head in answer. It was enough on its own, but then he took a breath and put that kiss into words just as sweet.
“I love you, Ivetta. You’re in another dungeon, and I can’t leave you there.”
He shifted his embrace to one arm and tilted my chin up again for a sweet and salty kiss. I opened my eyes when it ended, smiling up at him through the blur of tears.
“We need to have a fun date sometime.”
“I’ve arranged for us to have tomorrow off,” he replied, brushing his thumb across my wet cheek. “But I’ve made no plans beyond spending time with you.”
“That sounds fun to me.” I sighed and rested my cheek against his chest. “But I need to get this over with.”
He stroked my hair in silence for another moment, and then he said, “We’re at the guards’ grave now. I’d like to take you to your mother’s grave as well, but if it’s too much for you, we can go back.”
“No, I…you’re right.” I took a step back, wiping my face with my hand. “It’s time to…say goodbye.”
I took a deep breath and turned to face the monument. Four names, the date of my abduction, the name of my village, a fresh bouquet of red roses. And a stabbing pain in my chest.
“I didn’t know their names,” I said quietly. “I always ask people’s names, but I didn’t that day.”
“Alyn and Leo Crawford guarded your door,” Chevalier supplied, resting his hand comfortingly on the small of my back. “Albert Burckhardt and Nico Meier patrolled the woods nearby.”
I swallowed and nodded. “You remembered the flowers.”
“Of course.”
“Could I…have a minute?”
“Yes.”
He kissed my cheek and walked away. I knelt for a moment before the grave, closing my eyes for a brief prayer, as I’d done the last time we were in this place. A horse’s whinny broke the silence of the night. I looked up in surprise and saw a white stallion saddled and waiting nearby, tied to a tree branch. He was massive, as tall and muscular as a draft horse, but with a finer build. His crystal blue eyes matched Chevalier’s exactly, and they focused intently on him as he approached. I looked back at the grave and closed my eyes to finish my prayer, and then I stood up, watching the pair. Chevalier had untied the stallion’s reins, and the horse was nuzzling into his hand affectionately.
“That’s Blade, right?” I asked. Two pairs of crystal blue eyes turned to me. The horse’s gaze made me nervous. “Licht said he’s dangerous, but he seems to really like you.”
“He is dangerous,” Chevalier said, patting the horse’s nose one last time and dropping his reins. “Unless I’m around. Come here.”
I walked toward them cautiously. His brothers’ horses were of similar build and height to this one, as they were all bred for war, but this was the only horse Licht warned me to stay well clear of. Blade was wild, he said. Only a select few stable hands could handle him, and Chevalier was the only one who could ride him. This horse had sent people to the infirmary.
“He’s already met you once,” Chevalier said, reaching out to take my hand and pull me the last few steps toward him. “This is just a precaution.”
He positioned me in front of him, wrapping his left arm around my waist and pressing his right palm into the back of my right hand, interlacing his fingers through mine. Blade watched with interest, his ears pricked forward. I held my breath as Chevalier held my hand out in front of me, palm flat and fingers up. Blade’s velvety soft muzzle brushed against my palm, his nostrils flaring, his breath warming my skin. He ducked his head down and pushed his muzzle firmly into my hand. Chevalier released it and patted the horse’s forehead fondly.
“You may not remember him, but he remembers you,” he said, a smile in his voice.
“I don’t remember him,” I confirmed, afraid to move for fear of breaking the spell. Blade nudged my hand impatiently.
“Later,” Chevalier chuckled, patting him again and steering me to the horse’s left side. Blade turned his head to watch us, his ears flicking around to catch every word. I looked nervously at the reins hanging loosely from his bridle.
“Are we going to ride him?”
Chevalier spun me to face him and pressed a warm kiss to my lips. Surprised, I took a step back into Blade’s side. The horse stamped his hoof but didn’t move. Chevalier pulled back with a smirk that made me blush all the way to the tips of my ears, but before I could respond, he lifted me into the air and set me on the saddle. I clutched at it, my heart pounding in my ears.
“Hold these,” Chevalier said, passing me the reins.
“I-is this safe?” I stammered.
Chevalier swung into the saddle behind me, reaching around me to take the reins and placing a quick kiss on my cheek in one fluid movement. “Yes. But it will be easier if you face forward. I didn’t train him for side-saddle riding.”
“You trained him?” I asked, focusing on his words and figuring out the best way to swing one leg over to the other side of the horse rather than the anxiety threatening to overwhelm me. There was nothing for it. I just had to hold on to the saddle, push myself up, and throw my right leg over. It was awkward. And my skirt rode up to my knees, revealing scars I didn’t want Chevalier to see.
“Yes, I did. Take the reins.”
“What?”
He pressed the reins into my hands and a kiss on my ear. “Hold them like this,” he said, adjusting my hands. “Lay the left rein against his neck to turn him to the right. Doing the same with the right rein turns him left.”
“Chevalier-”
“Pulling straight back on both reins tells him to slow down. Squeezing with your knees tells him to speed up.”
“Couldn’t you do all that, and I can just sit here?” I pleaded, a tremor in my voice.
“Look at his ears.”
I dragged my eyes from my white knuckles, clenching the reins, to Blade’s ears, pricked backwards and listening.
“He responds to my voice,” Chevalier said, wrapping both arms around my waist. “You’re safe, little dove.”
The feel of him against my back reinforced his words. He held me in an embrace, even here, on top of this dangerous horse who stood perfectly still, waiting for his command. I nodded stiffly and took a deep breath.
“Tell him to move forward,” Chevalier prompted me.
“Um…by s-squeezing with my knees?” I asked hesitantly.
“Yes. Gently. It doesn’t take much.”
I squeezed Blade’s sides lightly, and my stomach lurched into my throat with his sudden motion. It was a smooth, slow walk, but I remembered another night, another horse’s shoulder and flying hooves in my limited field of vision, another man behind me in the saddle, the blow to the back of my head.
“Relax,” Chevalier said, his calm voice calling me back to the present. “I won’t let you fall, little dove.”
I shook my head, trying to shake the memory away, but it clung to the edges of my mind. “The last time I was on a horse-”
“You were on this horse,” Chevalier said, his warm breath gusting across my ear. “In my arms. On our way to the hospital tent, to the doctor who saved your life. I trusted Blade with you that night, and I’m trusting him with you now. I need you to trust me.”
Every shaky breath told me not to listen to him, but I had to. He was my lifeline. His arms were all that held me together. I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded.
“Blade, go. Fast,” he said, his voice authoritative.
The mass of muscles beneath me lunged forward. Hooves pounded against the ground; wind whipped my hair back and stung my cheeks. It took everything in me to focus on Chevalier’s soft voice in my ear.
“I wouldn’t let go of you to hold the reins. This is how we traveled. I gave verbal commands, and Blade responded. The same way he is responding now. Stop.”
He delivered the last word in the same commanding tone as his previous instruction, and everything stopped. The wind, the pounding hooves, the muscular animal beneath me. My breath escaped in a single rush of air as I slumped back against Chevalier.
“Blade, go. Slow.”
The horse resumed a slow, smooth walk. I opened my eyes cautiously. He had one ear pricked forward, the other turned back, listening for Chevalier’s next command.
“It’s your turn,” he prompted me gently.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
