“That’s right. I am the king. And if anyone takes issue with me fishing in my own pond, then I will have them thrown in the stocks.”
“So you are to be a tyrant then?” she asked on a laugh.
“If need be.”
I stuck my hands in the water the way I’d watched Roisin do twice now. I could see fish, but the closest one was more than an arm’s length away.
“You’re not doing it right,” she announced.
“I’m doing exactly what you’ve done.” Hands in the water, wait, catch a fish. Simple.
“You need to stand still. That’s not still, Caiman. I can see you wiggling your fingers. Just—” Roisin made an indignant sound. “Just let me show you.”
A moment later, she stood at my side, hands on her hips and an assessing tilt to her pointed chin. “First, take off the gloves.”
I removed my gloves and tossed them onto the shore with a wet splat.
“Now, bend over and hold still.”
“I recall telling you the same thing just this morning.”
She splashed me.
“You dare attack your king?” I splashed her back, soaking her pink bodice. “Careful, or my wobbly-eyed guard may come for your head.”
Roisin lunged, her cold, wet hands catching my neck and legs wrapping around my hips. “You will never catch a fish now.”
“Silly wife.” I caught her damp lip between my teeth. “I was never trying to catch a fish. I was trying to catch a fae.”
21
ROISIN
With all thefluttering in my stomach, I couldn’t quite catch my breath. Behind me, Caiman cursed as he fastened the buttons on my red day dress. He was still useless at tying laces, but untying them—
My face flushed.
“I could just call for Falin,” I said for the third time. If he didn’t hurry it on, we were going to be late for my very first council meeting. I needed them in good humor if I wanted them to approve the proposal for my charity that Caiman had helped me draft last night.
He’d been so wonderful, listening quietly as I explained my ideas, waiting until the end to offer a few suggestions of his own, as well as tips on raising the necessary funds.
“Quiet. I’ve almost got it.” He tugged the back near my neck. “There. All finished.” He stood and collected his waistcoat from where I’d discarded it an hour earlier.
I tucked the lace from my shift beneath the square neckline, examining my reflection to make sure everything was perfect. Had I made the right choice wearing my hair down, or should I have let Falin style it up? “I still don’t understand why you insist on doing this yourself.”
He stuffed his feet into his boots, fastening the golden buckles at the top much quicker than he’d done my buttons. “Because there may come a time when we find ourselves without assistance, and it would do no good to have my wife traipsing around the gardens with her bits on display for the entire kingdom to see.”
“Why would I be without clothes in the garden?”
He glanced up at me from beneath his dark lashes, a smile playing on lips I knew as intimately as my own. “You mean to tell me I’m the only one who has fantasies involving that striped picnic blanket?”
The two of us. In the gardens. On the picnic blanket? “Now that you mention it . . .”
Groaning, Caiman stood and pressed a hard kiss to my temple. “If you don’t stop giving me that look, we are sure to be very late.”
Right. Council. Potential war.
I pressed a hand to my sinking stomach, giving myself a final once-over in the gilt-framed mirror. “I’m so nervous everyone will be judging me.”