They’d read about them in the papers tomorrow, of course. But I wouldn’t have to witness that, would I?
I was just about to begin a letter focused entirely on explaining my developing friendship with Blaise when the knock sounded on my door.
I jolted from the desk and stuffed both Evander’s letter and the letters I’d drafted to my parents under my pillow.
“Yes?” I called.
“My dearly betrothed, would you please let me in?”
“Oh, gladly, my beloved,” I called, giggling with the ridiculousness of it all. Again ignoring the rush that shimmied down my spine when he had called me his betrothed.
Evander strode in, dressed in an outfit similar to the one in which he’d competed during our first trial. Imogen stood behind him in the shadow of the doorway, peering in nervously. She watched as Evander plopped himself onto my bed, sprawling his legs out like a cat that might fall asleep in the sun.
“You know, if you want a mattress like mine, I’m sure no one will deny you,” I teased. “There’s no need for you to continue to bother me and pretend you enjoy my company.”
He rolled over on his side and propped his head on his hands. “Actually, I have every reason to visit. In fact, I believe it’s the other way around. I pretend to enjoy your mattress as an excuse to come see you.”
My teasing grin faltered as something quite unwelcome whooshed in my stomach. My face went hot, and I struggled to hide my reaction underneath the ruse of flirting. “Not every young woman is interested in such persistence, you know. It might do you good to learn to take a hint. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t be trapped with me to begin with.”
I measured my words, the look on his face—fearful that I had gone too far, teased him about too sensitive a topic. But he searched my expression, my nose, my mouth, with those blazing sea-green eyes of his for a moment before a knowing look spread across his face.
“If, by that, you mean to accuse me of not being able to take a hint when my mystery woman fled from me at the ball, I choose to interpret that as a sign of your jealousy regarding my affections for another woman, and consider it the utmost flattery.”
I rolled my eyes and chanced a playful shove at his shoulder, noting where my fingers met solid rock as I did. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, you choose to suffer me. I wonder why that could be.”
That gave me the footing I needed. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that my body will strangle me to death if I don’t.”
Evander shrugged. “Say what you will, but I know the truth.”
I opened my mouth to respond. And what might that be? But I thought better of it.
“So, why did you come here?”
“I wanted to ask you to go on a walk. And to prove I’m not entirely lacking in the gentleman department.”
“It’s a little too late for that.”
“But I can try, can I not? Go on a walk with me?”
That last question sounded a bit too earnest, and the eagerness in his boyish expression twisted at my chest.
I did wish to stretch my legs, to let out some of the nervous energy that had bounded my chest all afternoon since the trials.
“I suppose your company is a smidge more entertaining than counting the notches on my bedpost.”
Regret swarmed my stomach as soon as the words had fallen from my stupid, traitorous lips. Why? Why did you have to select that particular string of words, Ellie?
Delight twinkled in Evander’s eyes, and I shoved my hand over his mouth. “Don’t you dare comment on that.”
True to his nature, Evander bit me.
I expected Evander to take me to the gardens to walk, so I was surprised when we turned toward the woods at the back of the castle walls instead.
“Do you intend to lure me out here to murder me?”
He shrugged. “If I’m still in the mood for it when we get there.”
I laughed, overly aware of the timid presence that followed us from behind.
Evander turned to face my maid—well, one of my maids. She’d informed me earlier that Blaise was sleeping in. Apparently it was indeed possible for a person to sleep past lunch. “You may leave, Imogen,” he said, then he turned to me with a polite nod, “If the lady allows it, of course.”
I weighed the possibilities in my mind as Imogen widened her eyes. If dining alone with Evander was improper, traipsing through the woods with him alone was downright inappropriate. Scandalous, even. If Evander’s suspicions about Imogen were true, which would torture her more? Chaperoning us all afternoon? Or sending her away, forcing her to spend hours letting her imagination run away with what we might be doing together alone in the woods?
Her fears weren’t rooted in reality, of course. Evander and I had become friends, sure, but nothing more. Though I had grown fond of him and even allowed myself to admit there was a bit of attraction there, that didn’t change our situation. I wouldn’t be handing my heart on a platter to a being who had bedded more suitors than I had friends. Mostly since he’d given me no indication he intended to cease the habit once we wed. We could be friends within a forced marriage, sure. But I would protect my heart at all costs.
I gazed at Imogen, noted the horrified look on her face, the tenseness that seemed to exude from her, and decided that I didn’t need that kind of energy following me around like the shadow of a storm cloud on such a beautiful afternoon. If she allowed herself to dream up that something more was occurring than was, that was not my responsibility. I had no control over her thoughts. “You’re dismissed for the afternoon, Imogen.”
She glanced back and forth between me and Evander, eyes wide, then curtsied and shuffled off.
My heart sank. I hoped she wasn’t going off to hide and cry somewhere.
“I know you’re fond of her,” Evander said, “but if you allow yourself to feel guilty for crushing the heart of every woman who fancies themselves in love with me, you’re going to have to bear the responsibility of quite a lot of tears that aren’t yours.”
I couldn’t help but snort. “How humble you are.”
Evander grunted. “I don’t mean that I’m deserving of every woman’s love and affection. Only that there are plenty out there who believe themselves to be deserving of mine. Never mind the fact that none of them actually know me. Not really.”
