The moment I was out of sight of the castle, I slipped out of my new shoes and tucked them beneath one of the hedges. Lush grass tickled my toes, grounding me.
Would Caiman buy Lowri slippers made of gold?
Not that I cared either way. She could pursue him all she wanted. Perhaps she could change his mind about the fae, since I clearly hadn’t.
What was it about us that he despised so much? Or was it truly just me? I could ask Caiman outright what I’d done wrong, force him to tell me so that this festering wound I pretended wasn’t there would finally heal. But who was to say he would give me an honest answer? And what would his response accomplish anyway? Sure, our relationship would be mended, but it wasn’t as if it could take away four years of snide comments and hateful glares.
It didn’t erase the other horrible things he’d done.
I made my way between hedges, past the rose trellis, to the lion-head fountains. A burbling stream snaked down the hill. Birds chirped as they flitted among the greenery.
The stream eventually widened into a large koi pond near the southern wall. A man in a white shirt and tan breeches sat on the arched bridge stretching over the water. It took me a moment to realize who it was.
Caiman, black hair pulled back from his angular face, booted feet swinging inches above a patch of lily pads.
I should’ve turned around. For some reason, I didn’t feel like leaving. I felt like continuing to where the wicked prince sat, oblivious to the world with a book in his gloved hands, and asking him why he hated me.
Us, I mean. The fae. For Lowri. Wouldn’t want her getting her hopes up only to have them dashed like mine.
The moment I set foot on the bridge, Caiman whirled, nearly dropping his book into the water. His wide, dark eyes gave away his surprise, which he quickly hid behind his trademark scowl.
“You’re not wearing black,” I said like a simpleton.
“Contrary to popular belief, the ‘prince of darkness’ does own clothes that are not black.” He closed the book and set it aside. “And before you claim that I wore this as a disguise so that I could stalk you, might I point out that I was here first.”
Fluffy clouds gathered over the horizon, painted shades of pink and orange with the promise of evening. It’d be dinnertime soon. Would Lowri try to charm Caiman tonight? Would he enjoy it?
I sank onto a bowed wooden board next to him, my wide blue skirts brushing against his knee. “I’m glad I found you, actually.”
“If I’d known you were looking, I would’ve found a better hiding place,” he muttered.
He would not unsettle me. Not this time. “I’d like to thank you.”
His dark brows came together.
“For helping Lowri yesterday,” I clarified.
He dropped my gaze in favor of adjusting his gloves. “That pillock shouldn’t have said that to her. To either of you.”
“True. But he did. And you helped us when you didn’t have to. For that, I am grateful. And I know she’s grateful as well.”
He twisted toward me, accidentally bumping his knee against mine. “If I hadn’t gotten you away, something terrible could’ve happened.”
“At least then you’d be free of me,” I said with a humorless chuckle. Though all I really wanted to say was,Why do you hate me?
Caiman’s black eyes narrowed before he angled himself back toward the pond. “I will never be free of you.”
Before I could ask what that meant, he inquired after the maid I’d met in town.
“That girl’s name is Falin,” I said, “and she’s a maid in your castle. Her mother passed a few months back, leaving her on her own to provide for three younger siblings. I gave her the purse because I thought it would help.” She’d refused at first, but I’d insisted. Pride wouldn’t put food on her table or buy clothes for her little brother and sisters. It wasn’t fair that I had so much when others had so little. That may be the way of the world, but once I took my tiny throne, I was determined to do something about it.
I looked up to find Caiman’s scowl replaced by an unreadable expression. Not a smile—heaven forbid the man smile at me. No, he looked confused. Was it any wonder? The idea of having compassion for others was probably a foreign concept to someone like him.
I shifted on the boards, my backside aching from the unforgiving wood. He still hadn’t looked away. “Do you remember coming here when we first met?”
His dark brows pinched. “Did we?”
How could he forget so easily when the memory of that day had been burned into my mind? The day I’d found hope. The day I’d lost it. “I caught a fish with my bare hands.”