x
After Chevalier’s impressive demonstration of just how much control he had over Blade, even without holding the reins, I gave a tentative command, and then another, and another, a thrill running through me as I realized the massive cavalry horse beneath me was doing what I wanted him to do. I didn’t use my voice, as Chevalier had, but Blade’s response was just as immediate to the physical directions Chevalier explained to me at the beginning of the ride. It wasn’t long until I held the reins confidently in relaxed hands, smiling at the wind whipping through my hair as Blade’s smooth canter ate up the ground and made the city in the distance nothing but a blur. I slowed him to a walk as the village came into view, unwilling for the ride to be over. Or for us to reach our destination.
“You learn quickly,” Chevalier said. His arms were still secure around my waist, reassuring me of his presence whenever the anxiety threatened to rear its ugly head again.
“Well, I have a wonderful teacher,” I replied, patting Blade’s neck. “And he’s really well-trained. Why did Licht say he was wild?”
“He is. I rode him for several hours this afternoon to tire him out for this,” Chevalier replied.
“I thought you’d be preparing for the coronation ceremony.”
“My preparations are done, as are yours. There’s nothing you can learn tomorrow that you can master in a single day, and you already have the skills required for the task at hand.”
That was high praise coming from Chevalier. He and Sariel had a tendency to understate their compliments or deliver them via implication rather than words. I smiled and focused on the warmth wrapping around my heart instead of the dread I felt at the thought of the coronation ceremony.
“Could we go riding again tomorrow?”
“No. It takes time for the body to adjust to the saddle, and you’ll be sore tomorrow. Riding again would make dancing difficult at the ball.”
“Oh. Well, we can just read, then, or go for a walk in the gardens. It’ll be nice to spend some time together.”
He squeezed my waist and kissed my cheek. “Agreed.”
Our conversation dropped off as we neared the church. As with the Hill of Remembrance, the cemetery was behind the church itself, surrounded by an old wooden fence composed of two horizontal planks between vertical posts. Long grass, creeping vines, and overgrown bushes hid much of the fence, and the cemetery, from view. The silvery cap of the weeping willow at the center of the graveyard peeked over the darker foliage and shimmered in the moonlight. I brought Blade to a stop at the rickety wooden gate.
“Did you remember the bouquet?” I asked quietly, my voice sounding far too loud in the silent night air. Chevalier dismounted and held his hands up for me.
“Yes, I did,” he said, pulling me down from Blade and into his embrace. “Saying goodbye doesn’t mean you’ll forget her,” he added softly, holding me close.
“I know,” I mumbled into his chest, my voice thickening with tears again.
Blade stamped his hoof impatiently. Chevalier sighed and released me to pick up the reins.
“You’re a nuisance,” he told the white stallion as he tied him to a fencepost. The horse bumped his shoulder insistently with his muzzle. I put a hand over my mouth to hide my giggle.
“He acts like a big puppy around you.”
Chevalier smiled and patted Blade’s nose before returning to my side. “Perhaps, but you need to remember he’s dangerous.”
“So are you,” I pointed out, moving closer to him as he wrapped an arm around my waist. “But I still trust you.”
“I’m more trustworthy than him where you are concerned.”
Entering the churchyard was like entering a secret world. The walls of foliage that had overtaken the fence lent an air of seclusion, and the gentle swaying of the weeping willow’s silvery leaves added a touch of enchantment to the somber yet serene atmosphere. We walked slowly, passing graves marked by elaborate headstones, simple wooden crosses, and everything in between. The grass was short and neat, marked by occasional splashes of color from clumps of wildflowers encouraged to grow here or there. I’d been here before, with Mother, for funerals of church congregants I didn’t know. She’d always insisted we come anyway to pay our respects. Now I was coming to pay her respects.
My heart hurt.
I didn’t know what I was looking for until I saw it. The beautiful marble headstone, marked by a bouquet of red roses at its base, stood out from its simpler neighbors. I put a hand over my mouth as we neared, this time to hide my quivering lips. Engraved near the top was her name, ‘Evelyn,’ and below it, a single rose. I knelt in the grass beside it. Chevalier joined me.
“She would have loved this headstone,” I said, dropping my hand from my mouth to clench in my skirt. “And the flowers. Thank you.”
We were silent for a moment, and then he said, “I didn’t include her last name for security reasons, but I can arrange its addition now, along with anything else you’d like.”
“Security reasons?” I asked, looking up at him in surprise.
He nodded and brushed his fingers across my cheek, wiping away a tear I hadn’t realized was there. “Gilbert made it clear his father wouldn’t sign the treaty if he knew about you, and you were too close to the border for comfort. Sariel included a carefully worded clause in the treaty that nullified your marriage agreement without revealing your existence or our knowledge of it, and we kept your identity a secret, even from my brothers, until the king of Obsidian signed and you returned to the palace.”
I looked back at the headstone. “That’s the sort of thing she was protecting me from, wasn’t it?”
“Among other things, yes.”
He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and I leaned into him. Several minutes of silence passed before he spoke again.
“I couldn’t understand your fanatical devotion to her until I heard you last night.”
I took a deep, shaky breath, blinking back more tears. “She did everything for me until she got sick. I just wanted to take care of her like she took care of me.”
“And you didn’t tell Theresa all of it.”
I shook my head, a lump rising in my throat and stopping my words.
He pulled me closer and kissed the top of my head. “You’re very similar to her.”
“Really?” I asked, looking up at his warm blue eyes.
He nodded. “You’re stronger than you look.”
I rested my head against his shoulder, tracing her name with my eyes. “You’re similar to her, too.”
“How so?”
“She didn’t want me to be afraid of anything, either. Like thunderstorms. Those used to terrify me. So, she’d sit in the open doorway, holding me on her lap, and she would sing to calm me down. The song I’m always humming, actually.” I closed my eyes and pictured her smile. “She loved rain.”
Chevalier shifted next to me. I sat up straighter and looked at him as he rearranged himself to sit cross-legged. He pulled me onto his lap and kissed the top of my head again.
“This is more comfortable,” he said.
“It is,” I agreed, resting my head against his chest. His heartbeat was a soothing, steady rhythm in my ear. It sounded whole. Mine felt broken.
“I miss her so much.”
“I know,” he murmured, stroking my hair as the tears slid down my cheeks. Mother was right again, I realized. She was usually right.
And I wished she could see this.
We stayed there in the graveyard until the church bell struck midnight. I told him more about Mother, as the pain in my chest and the intermittent tears allowed, but we didn’t speak of the negative memories. Only the good. As the last bell tolled, we fell silent, listening to the bells and a cool night breeze rustling the flowers on Mother’s grave. I sat in front of Chevalier, wrapped up in his arms and legs, leaning back against his chest, warm and safe.
“We should go,” I said reluctantly.
He turned my face toward his and gave me a long, lingering kiss, and then he stood up, pulling me to my feet and leading me out of the cemetery. Blade raised his head and nickered a greeting when he saw us. I smiled through the tears and patted his neck while Chevalier untied him, and then Chevalier lifted me up into the saddle and swung up behind me. There were no lessons now. He took the reins, and I fought the heaviness of my eyelids to stay awake.
“Chevalier?”
“Yes?”
“I wish you could have met my mother.”
He kissed the top of my head. “I feel as though I have.”
The warmth of Chevalier around me, the smooth, steady pace of his horse beneath us, the perfect stillness of the darkened landscape, all persuaded me to close my eyes, just for a moment. I didn’t open them again until Chevalier shook me gently and called my name.
“Oh, sorry,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Are we back?”
“Yes. Hold on to the saddle.”
I nodded and sat up straighter so I wouldn’t fall off when he dismounted. The stable yard was dark and quiet. He reached up for me, and I slid off of Blade and into his arms. He chuckled and set me on my feet.
“You are tired.”
“I haven’t been getting much sleep,” I admitted, hiding a yawn behind my hand.
“I’d take you straight to your room, but I need to tend to Blade first.”
“That’s fine,” I said, stifling another yawn as I followed him into the stables. An occasional huff or stamped hoof marked the other horses in their stalls. The musty smells of straw, hay, horse, and manure mixed and mingled to wrap me in a cozy, homely warmth.
“Where are the stable hands?” I asked.
“Asleep. It’s safer for me to handle Blade personally when possible, anyway. You can sit down over there.”
I sat on the bale of straw that he indicated, hoping it was scratchy and uncomfortable enough to keep me from falling asleep again. “Is he really that bad?”
“Yes, he is,” Chevalier said, tying Blade in front of the stall and removing his tack. “He’s high-strung, headstrong, and intelligent. The trainers in Jade deemed him uncontrollable and only fit for breeding stock. I saw him at a sale when I was searching for a replacement for my last mount, who was nearing retirement age, and he met the criteria I wanted. His resistance to conventional training methods presented an interesting challenge.”
I watched as Chevalier brushed and rubbed Blade down, smiling at the incongruity of the sight. In all other areas, Chevalier was the model aristocrat, too dignified and superior to stoop to such menial labor. There was something charming about seeing him this way. Nevermind that this was just another example of him outclassing everybody else. He probably read a book on horse training, and that was enough for him to accomplish what skilled trainers couldn’t.
The rhythmic strokes of the brush were getting to me.
“I didn’t even know you had a horse,” I said, hiding another yawn behind my hand. “I guess if I’d thought about it, I would have realized you did, but you never mentioned him.”
“Because you preoccupied my time,” Chevalier said. I couldn’t see the smirk on his face in the dim lighting provided only by moon- and starlight trickling into the stables, but I heard it in his voice, and I blushed. “He became exceptionally difficult during that first month you were here.”
“Sorry, Blade,” I apologized. I couldn’t stop the next yawn. My heavy eyelids wanted so badly to close. Each time I blinked, it was harder and harder to open my eyes again.
And then I felt Chevalier scooping me into his arms, and I realized I’d fallen asleep again.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“Go back to sleep, little dove.”74Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIU2uUdhmbH
After Chevalier’s impressive demonstration of just how much control he had over Blade, even without holding the reins, I gave a tentative command, and then another, and another, a thrill running through me as I realized the massive cavalry horse beneath me was doing what I wanted him to do. I didn’t use my voice, as Chevalier had, but Blade’s response was just as immediate to the physical directions Chevalier explained to me at the beginning of the ride. It wasn’t long until I held the reins confidently in relaxed hands, smiling at the wind whipping through my hair as Blade’s smooth canter ate up the ground and made the city in the distance nothing but a blur. I slowed him to a walk as the village came into view, unwilling for the ride to be over. Or for us to reach our destination.
“You learn quickly,” Chevalier said. His arms were still secure around my waist, reassuring me of his presence whenever the anxiety threatened to rear its ugly head again.
“Well, I have a wonderful teacher,” I replied, patting Blade’s neck. “And he’s really well-trained. Why did Licht say he was wild?”
“He is. I rode him for several hours this afternoon to tire him out for this,” Chevalier replied.
“I thought you’d be preparing for the coronation ceremony.”
“My preparations are done, as are yours. There’s nothing you can learn tomorrow that you can master in a single day, and you already have the skills required for the task at hand.”
That was high praise coming from Chevalier. He and Sariel had a tendency to understate their compliments or deliver them via implication rather than words. I smiled and focused on the warmth wrapping around my heart instead of the dread I felt at the thought of the coronation ceremony.
“Could we go riding again tomorrow?”
“No. It takes time for the body to adjust to the saddle, and you’ll be sore tomorrow. Riding again would make dancing difficult at the ball.”
“Oh. Well, we can just read, then, or go for a walk in the gardens. It’ll be nice to spend some time together.”
He squeezed my waist and kissed my cheek. “Agreed.”
Our conversation dropped off as we neared the church. As with the Hill of Remembrance, the cemetery was behind the church itself, surrounded by an old wooden fence composed of two horizontal planks between vertical posts. Long grass, creeping vines, and overgrown bushes hid much of the fence, and the cemetery, from view. The silvery cap of the weeping willow at the center of the graveyard peeked over the darker foliage and shimmered in the moonlight. I brought Blade to a stop at the rickety wooden gate.
“Did you remember the bouquet?” I asked quietly, my voice sounding far too loud in the silent night air. Chevalier dismounted and held his hands up for me.
“Yes, I did,” he said, pulling me down from Blade and into his embrace. “Saying goodbye doesn’t mean you’ll forget her,” he added softly, holding me close.
“I know,” I mumbled into his chest, my voice thickening with tears again.
Blade stamped his hoof impatiently. Chevalier sighed and released me to pick up the reins.
“You’re a nuisance,” he told the white stallion as he tied him to a fencepost. The horse bumped his shoulder insistently with his muzzle. I put a hand over my mouth to hide my giggle.
“He acts like a big puppy around you.”
Chevalier smiled and patted Blade’s nose before returning to my side. “Perhaps, but you need to remember he’s dangerous.”
“So are you,” I pointed out, moving closer to him as he wrapped an arm around my waist. “But I still trust you.”
“I’m more trustworthy than him where you are concerned.”
Entering the churchyard was like entering a secret world. The walls of foliage that had overtaken the fence lent an air of seclusion, and the gentle swaying of the weeping willow’s silvery leaves added a touch of enchantment to the somber yet serene atmosphere. We walked slowly, passing graves marked by elaborate headstones, simple wooden crosses, and everything in between. The grass was short and neat, marked by occasional splashes of color from clumps of wildflowers encouraged to grow here or there. I’d been here before, with Mother, for funerals of church congregants I didn’t know. She’d always insisted we come anyway to pay our respects. Now I was coming to pay her respects.
My heart hurt.
I didn’t know what I was looking for until I saw it. The beautiful marble headstone, marked by a bouquet of red roses at its base, stood out from its simpler neighbors. I put a hand over my mouth as we neared, this time to hide my quivering lips. Engraved near the top was her name, ‘Evelyn,’ and below it, a single rose. I knelt in the grass beside it. Chevalier joined me.
“She would have loved this headstone,” I said, dropping my hand from my mouth to clench in my skirt. “And the flowers. Thank you.”
We were silent for a moment, and then he said, “I didn’t include her last name for security reasons, but I can arrange its addition now, along with anything else you’d like.”
“Security reasons?” I asked, looking up at him in surprise.
He nodded and brushed his fingers across my cheek, wiping away a tear I hadn’t realized was there. “Gilbert made it clear his father wouldn’t sign the treaty if he knew about you, and you were too close to the border for comfort. Sariel included a carefully worded clause in the treaty that nullified your marriage agreement without revealing your existence or our knowledge of it, and we kept your identity a secret, even from my brothers, until the king of Obsidian signed and you returned to the palace.”
I looked back at the headstone. “That’s the sort of thing she was protecting me from, wasn’t it?”
“Among other things, yes.”
He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and I leaned into him. Several minutes of silence passed before he spoke again.
“I couldn’t understand your fanatical devotion to her until I heard you last night.”
I took a deep, shaky breath, blinking back more tears. “She did everything for me until she got sick. I just wanted to take care of her like she took care of me.”
“And you didn’t tell Theresa all of it.”
I shook my head, a lump rising in my throat and stopping my words.
He pulled me closer and kissed the top of my head. “You’re very similar to her.”
“Really?” I asked, looking up at his warm blue eyes.
He nodded. “You’re stronger than you look.”
I rested my head against his shoulder, tracing her name with my eyes. “You’re similar to her, too.”
“How so?”
“She didn’t want me to be afraid of anything, either. Like thunderstorms. Those used to terrify me. So, she’d sit in the open doorway, holding me on her lap, and she would sing to calm me down. The song I’m always humming, actually.” I closed my eyes and pictured her smile. “She loved rain.”
Chevalier shifted next to me. I sat up straighter and looked at him as he rearranged himself to sit cross-legged. He pulled me onto his lap and kissed the top of my head again.
“This is more comfortable,” he said.
“It is,” I agreed, resting my head against his chest. His heartbeat was a soothing, steady rhythm in my ear. It sounded whole. Mine felt broken.
“I miss her so much.”
“I know,” he murmured, stroking my hair as the tears slid down my cheeks. Mother was right again, I realized. She was usually right.
And I wished she could see this.
We stayed there in the graveyard until the church bell struck midnight. I told him more about Mother, as the pain in my chest and the intermittent tears allowed, but we didn’t speak of the negative memories. Only the good. As the last bell tolled, we fell silent, listening to the bells and a cool night breeze rustling the flowers on Mother’s grave. I sat in front of Chevalier, wrapped up in his arms and legs, leaning back against his chest, warm and safe.
“We should go,” I said reluctantly.
He turned my face toward his and gave me a long, lingering kiss, and then he stood up, pulling me to my feet and leading me out of the cemetery. Blade raised his head and nickered a greeting when he saw us. I smiled through the tears and patted his neck while Chevalier untied him, and then Chevalier lifted me up into the saddle and swung up behind me. There were no lessons now. He took the reins, and I fought the heaviness of my eyelids to stay awake.
“Chevalier?”
“Yes?”
“I wish you could have met my mother.”
He kissed the top of my head. “I feel as though I have.”
The warmth of Chevalier around me, the smooth, steady pace of his horse beneath us, the perfect stillness of the darkened landscape, all persuaded me to close my eyes, just for a moment. I didn’t open them again until Chevalier shook me gently and called my name.
“Oh, sorry,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Are we back?”
“Yes. Hold on to the saddle.”
I nodded and sat up straighter so I wouldn’t fall off when he dismounted. The stable yard was dark and quiet. He reached up for me, and I slid off of Blade and into his arms. He chuckled and set me on my feet.
“You are tired.”
“I haven’t been getting much sleep,” I admitted, hiding a yawn behind my hand.
“I’d take you straight to your room, but I need to tend to Blade first.”
“That’s fine,” I said, stifling another yawn as I followed him into the stables. An occasional huff or stamped hoof marked the other horses in their stalls. The musty smells of straw, hay, horse, and manure mixed and mingled to wrap me in a cozy, homely warmth.
“Where are the stable hands?” I asked.
“Asleep. It’s safer for me to handle Blade personally when possible, anyway. You can sit down over there.”
I sat on the bale of straw that he indicated, hoping it was scratchy and uncomfortable enough to keep me from falling asleep again. “Is he really that bad?”
“Yes, he is,” Chevalier said, tying Blade in front of the stall and removing his tack. “He’s high-strung, headstrong, and intelligent. The trainers in Jade deemed him uncontrollable and only fit for breeding stock. I saw him at a sale when I was searching for a replacement for my last mount, who was nearing retirement age, and he met the criteria I wanted. His resistance to conventional training methods presented an interesting challenge.”
I watched as Chevalier brushed and rubbed Blade down, smiling at the incongruity of the sight. In all other areas, Chevalier was the model aristocrat, too dignified and superior to stoop to such menial labor. There was something charming about seeing him this way. Nevermind that this was just another example of him outclassing everybody else. He probably read a book on horse training, and that was enough for him to accomplish what skilled trainers couldn’t.
The rhythmic strokes of the brush were getting to me.
“I didn’t even know you had a horse,” I said, hiding another yawn behind my hand. “I guess if I’d thought about it, I would have realized you did, but you never mentioned him.”
“Because you preoccupied my time,” Chevalier said. I couldn’t see the smirk on his face in the dim lighting provided only by moon- and starlight trickling into the stables, but I heard it in his voice, and I blushed. “He became exceptionally difficult during that first month you were here.”
“Sorry, Blade,” I apologized. I couldn’t stop the next yawn. My heavy eyelids wanted so badly to close. Each time I blinked, it was harder and harder to open my eyes again.
And then I felt Chevalier scooping me into his arms, and I realized I’d fallen asleep again.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“Go back to sleep, little dove."
