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Things were going about as well as I expected.
We were riding north as the morning sun trekked across the sky, surrounded by nothing but miles and miles of green grass, wildflowers, and tilled fields. The air was fresh and sweet, the sky blue and clear, and the atmosphere charged and tense.
Chevalier rode Blade on my right, his crystal blue eyes set forward and his face devoid of all expression. That wasn’t necessarily unusual. He often had the air of a cold, uninterested aristocrat when we were in public, but I knew underneath the facade, he was always a taut string ready to snap if he thought I needed protection.
On my right was Leon, riding his black stallion. He exuded his natural charisma with an easy smile and an easier conversational tone, but there was a wariness about him I felt more than I saw, and that was unusual. Very little put Leon ill at ease.
But Gilbert had a way of making almost anybody uneasy.
He rode on Leon’s left, a pleasant smile on his lips and the reins held loosely in his black-gloved hands. To anybody who didn’t know him, he was the picture of a handsome nobleman enjoying a relaxing day ride. To me, he was a potentially dangerous man playing at innocence atop a blood bay borrowed from the royal stables, and everything about him was suspect, including the horse’s color. Deliberate choice, or sheer coincidence?
He already had me second guessing everything, and we’d exchanged little more than standard greetings.
I didn’t have to wonder about our riding formation. That was most certainly deliberate. Chevalier and Leon had maneuvered their horses into position by unspoken agreement as soon as we were all in the saddle: me, safe in the middle; Chevalier and Gilbert, as far apart as possible; Leon, between Gilbert and me.
It was possible the tension would have been less if I hadn’t come, but somehow, I didn’t think so. There would have been far more silence and far less conversation had I not been present to keep up a steady stream of lighthearted, non-contentious chatter, fulfilling my usual role in awkward social situations. Chevalier could freeze a roomful of people with a single glance, and I could thaw the ice and have them smiling within minutes.
Usually.
“So, Belle thought it would be cute if Theresa made poached eggs, since she was making pain perdu and I was making pancakes.”
“I wondered if that was intentional,” Leon said, matching my casual tone. He was, of course, my primary conversational partner, and I appreciated his effort to make this ride as cordial as possible.
“It wasn’t what we set out to do. I just wanted to spend some time with Belle before we left, and she’d already started the pain perdu last night for Rio, so I started pancakes for Chevalier. Then Theresa started cooking, and we ended up making breakfast for everybody.”
“Pancakes are Chevalier’s favorite?” Gilbert asked.
It was an innocent enough question, but as always, his blood-red eye and charming smile put me on edge, making me wonder if there was a deeper meaning to every word. Then again, it was a simple question. Maybe there wasn’t more, and I was just overthinking it.
“His favorite breakfast food, yes,” I replied, choosing to believe the best. “Whenever I make them for him, I don’t bother making anything else. He just fills up on pancakes.”
I smiled at Chevalier, remembering him devouring a towering stack of warm, fluffy pancakes earlier that morning. He’d gotten a little syrup on his chin. I’d made the mistake of licking it off, and we were nearly late to the stables as a result.
His eyes met mine briefly, and I felt a faint blush color my cheeks.
“Do you cook for him often?”
Gilbert’s voice broke the sweet moment and made my cheeks warm even more. This was not the time to get lost in my thoughts, especially when the three men accompanying me were all adept at reading my expressions.
“No, I’m too busy for that,” I said, keeping my tone level and my pace unhurried to hide my momentary embarrassment. “Breakfast is the easiest to squeeze into my day because I usually wake up before him and pancakes are quick, but I’ve only made them a couple of times since we got married.”
“She spoils him rotten.” Leon smiled at me with genuine warmth in his amber eyes, but I silently begged him not to continue. He either didn’t understand or chose to decline. “You know she did all the cooking on their honeymoon? And she’s taken over management of the servants now, so whenever she’s in the kitchens helping out, he gets the first taste of anything good.”
“That was just once,” I protested, wishing I didn’t blush so easily.
“So, it’s true.” Gilbert’s eye flicked over my shoulder and back to me. “I’m surprised Chevalier lets you do any work, given your history.”
That cooled the heat in my cheeks. Something within me bristled at his phrasing, and I opened my mouth to deliver a sharp retort, but a cool voice on my right answered before I could.
“I dislike her doing menial labor, but how she chooses to fill her time is her decision, not mine. We discussed the matter, and this was our compromise.”
For the first time since we met Leon and Gilbert at the stables, Chevalier had fixed his eyes fully on Gilbert with a frigid glare. Gilbert’s smile remained unchanged. There was a brief, tense silence, suddenly shattered by Leon’s booming laugh.
“Compromise. I used to think that word wasn’t in your vocabulary, Chevalier. Speaking of compromises, has he told you anything about Freedom, Ivetta?”
I exhaled my relief, glad for the subject change. Who knew breakfast could be such a divisive topic? “No, he hasn’t.”
“I figured. He was probably saving it as a surprise when things are more developed there. Freedom is a community of ex-slaves in the foothills. We were having some problems with raids last year, and he gave me the go-ahead to invite them to have a place of their own.”
“Really?” I turned to look at Chevalier curiously. He was more open to discussion now than when we’d first met, but I knew his typical response to such a problem would have been to increase the military presence along the border, and maybe even order a preemptive strike. This was uncharacteristically generous and kind of him, and it made my heart flutter. “You allowed that?”
“He had a solid plan and assumed full responsibility,” Chevalier replied, the barest hint of a smile ghosting across his lips. “There was significant risk involved, but a reasonable chance of success with the potential for exponential reward.”
“You’ve always preferred leaving as little to chance as possible,” Gilbert interjected. When I looked over at him, his blood red eye was on Chevalier, a hint of amusement curling about his lips. “Military action would have provided a more predictable outcome. It’s unusual for you to even entertain such a request.”
“Well, I caught him at a good time,” Leon said, maintaining his upbeat tone and throwing me a knowing grin. “He’d just been with Ivetta.”
Gilbert’s eye settled on me again. “That would explain it.”
Warmth blossomed in my cheeks as I cast a shy glance at Chevalier. “I-I’m sure that didn’t factor into anything.”
The left corner of his lips turned up just slightly. “You give yourself too little credit, little dove.”
The butterflies fluttering among the roadside flowers flooded down my throat and poured into my stomach in a kaleidoscope of wings and colors. That tone was not one meant for use in public, and yet he dropped his last two words into the softer, more affectionate range he reserved for our private moments as naturally as the sun warmed my skin, knowing full well how much that would fluster me.
There were many things I expected from today, but Chevalier teasing me in front of Gilbert was not one of them. When I got him alone, I would give him a piece of my mind about this.
Or I could get back at him right now.
“I don’t really know much about ex-slaves other than rumors,” I said, turning my back on Chevalier and looking past Leon to Gilbert with a sweet smile. “They’re from Obsidian, aren’t they?”
Gilbert’s eye flicked over my shoulder and back to me, and his smile widened. He knew exactly what I was doing. “Yes, they’re typically escaped slaves from Obsidian. You are aware Obsidian used to have a large slave population, I presume?”
“‘Used to’?” Leon asked, frowning slightly. “I wasn’t aware Obsidian put a stop to slavery.”
Gilbert shrugged. “Obsidian’s borders have been closed for almost eleven years. Our affairs are our own.” He shifted his gaze back to me, his manner almost dismissive toward Leon. “The ex-slaves generally hide in desert wastelands which are otherwise uninhabitable. They make a living through raiding settlements and hiring themselves out as mercenaries; thus, raids decrease when war is brewing and increase in times of peace. With the treaty came the loss of a significant source of their income, so the number of raids increased drastically. I understand they hit one village in Rhodolite particularly hard.”
“They’re just people trying to make a living,” Leon interjected, a slight edge to his voice. “The foothills up north are mostly uninhabited because of how rocky the soil is, but that soil is very fertile. When I offered it to them, they jumped at the opportunity to make a place for themselves. They aren’t afraid of hard work if it means they can make an honest living and provide for their families.”
“They’re also very suspicious people who distrust anybody outside their community,” Gilbert commented. “Now, how did you earn their trust, I wonder?”
Leon’s expression froze, just for a second, so briefly I wondered if I imagined it. Then he shrugged his broad shoulders and grinned. “Guess I’m just good at talking to people.”
“Of course.” Gilbert smiled, too, but the same friendly smile he always wore somehow reminded me of a predator baring its teeth now. “You have all the charisma of any born and bred Rhodolitian prince.”
This time, I was sure Leon froze for an instant. There was something Gilbert was implying, something that shook Leon, and I didn’t know what it could be. Leon was the storybook definition of a fairytale prince, the gallant knight in shining armor, and from what I’d learned during my year at the palace, he’d always been that way. His black hair and the black clothing he always wore were the only shreds of darkness about him. How could Gilbert find something to hold over a man like him?
“Naturally,” Chevalier said, his icy voice cutting through the invisible thread from the unspoken words. “He was my primary rival for the throne, after all, and his results speak for themselves. The town is still under construction, but several successful businesses are already in operation, and security has never been an issue. My intention was to take Ivetta there for a few days after the inn’s completion, but it is in an acceptable state for a visit now.”
“Meaning it is safe enough to take her there,” Gilbert clarified.
“As I said, security has never been an issue,” Chevalier returned in an even frostier tone than before.
He knew, I realized. He knew whatever Gilbert was leaving unsaid, and underneath his factual statements and logical deductions, he was defending his brother. But of course he knew. He always knew everything, somehow. And although he wasn’t the best at showing it, he had always cared for his brothers, too. Still, he rarely intervened on their behalf, which meant whatever was going on really bothered him.
Strange how such cold words could warm my heart so much.
“I’ve been keeping tight security,” Leon said, directing his reassurance towards me, although I was more reassured by his relaxed posture than his words. “Even I’ve been surprised by how well this has all turned out. Of course, it helps when the king gives something his personal endorsement.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, looking from Leon to Chevalier.
“The jeweler there made our wedding rings and your necklace,” Chevalier explained.
“Really?” I dropped the reins for a moment, holding the dove necklace next to my wedding ring. The craftsmanship was exquisite. “I would never have thought an ex-slave made these.”
“Matt’s a genius,” Leon said proudly. “A jeweler owned him when he was a kid, but he never got to touch the merchandise or the tools. He learned by watching, and when he got his hands on some raw materials from the mines in the mountains near Freedom, he taught himself by memory. You can meet him today, although he’ll probably be busy. He’s been getting a lot of orders since word got out he’s the king’s jeweler.”
I let the necklace fall back into place just above my heart and picked the reins up again, beaming at Chevalier. “Had you seen his work before you ordered the wedding rings?”
“No.”
“So, you took a chance on everything about Freedom.”
A small smile played across his lips. “It was more of a calculated risk.”
To make me happy. I knew that without him saying it. This was why he said I’d enjoy this trip, even though he’d rather keep me away from Gilbert. He was getting a big kiss from me later.
“What was your plan if the rings were of unacceptable quality?” Gilbert asked.
But first, we had to put up with Gilbert’s needling for the rest of the day.
“He ordered them before he even proposed to her,” Leon answered for Chevalier. “There was plenty of time to get new ones made.”
“I wouldn’t have wanted new ones.” I looked down at my rings again and said, “These are beautiful, but the symbolism is more important to me than the appearance.”
Gilbert chuckled, and I realized when I looked over at him that his smile had lost its sinister aspect. It didn’t give me an uneasy feeling, either. It was just a smile.
“I would expect as much from you, little dove.”
He was so hard to read. Adding my nickname to the end of that statement was a stab at Chevalier; of that, there was no doubt. The statement itself, however…it felt nice. Like I could take it as a simple acknowledgement that he knew what sort of person I was, and he approved. And that made me wonder if the primary reason he wanted me to come along today was not to bother Chevalier, but because he knew how much I’d enjoy this visit, too.
I was already tired of all the mental acrobatics, and it wasn't even noon. This would be a long day.12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡn4kGqBH7Sp
