The princess smiles as if she doesn’t notice me splintering apart at her side. Or maybe she does notice and doesn’t care. Leaning back on her hands, Leeri lifts her face to the sweltering sun. “As do I. My father wishes for me to wear a white feathered gown to the wedding, but I would rather marry you in silver. Which would you prefer?”
I would prefer to not be marrying her at all. “The color of your gown doesn’t matter.”
She tugs my collar, her ruby lips pursing into a pout. “It matters to me. I want to look well for you.”
“You will be beautiful no matter what.” I may hold no fondness for her, but any man with eyes can see that she is stunning.
Leeri’s cheeks pinken as she traces the buttons of my shirt where they peek from beneath my jerkin. “What are you wearing to the wedding?”
I don’t know what I’ll be wearing to dinner tonight, let alone to an event seventeen days from now. I collect my wine glass from the wool blanket and mutter, “Whatever Boris tells me to wear,” before taking a sip. I am his minion, after all.
Leeri lets me go to swipe a hand across her glistening brow. “Is it always this warm here?”
“Most of the time.” Above the clouds, anyway. The same cannot be said for where the Tuath live. There, it rains more often than not. And if it isn’t raining, it’s still damp. “Is it not the same in Nimbiss?” I’ve visited a handful of times over the years, and the temperature always seemed mild enough.
With a shake of her head, Leeri untucks the hem of her shirt from her breeches.
“What are you doing?” And why is she unfastening the buttons of her shirt?
Wine. I need more wine. I take a large gulp, but it doesn’t calm my racing heart.
Her lips lift in time with her shirt. Up and over her head it goes, leaving her in a black bra and leathers. “I am going for a swim.”
“Where?” I choke. We’re in the middle of the bloody gardens. If someone comes outside, they’ll see her in her?—
Oh, gods. There go her pants.
Leeri stands, her black lace undergarments leaving very little to the imagination. How the hell did she go from discussing clothes to taking them off?
“In the pond, silly.” She saunters toward the blue-green water, her glossy hair swaying down her back with each step. “Care to join me?” she throws over her shoulder.
No, I don’t want to strip down and jump into a fucking pond covered in lily pads and with heaven-knows what sort of monsters lurking beneath the surface. “There are fish in there.”
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a few fish.”
Afraid? Hardly. I don’t have to be afraid of something to hate it. I grab the wine bottle from the picnic basket and take a swig right as Leeri dives into the water. Maybe I’ll get lucky and one of the vile beasts I absolutely am not afraid of will eat her.
I nearly faint with relief when Kyffin trudges around the hedge. With Rhainn in Allto visiting his betrothed, our baby brother has been at a loose end all day.
Kyffin’s head snaps up when he hears Leeri splashing. His nose wrinkles as he watches her backstroke toward the weeping willows on the far bank. “Does she know there are fish in there?”
“She doesn’t seem to care.” Maybe she has never seen a fish and doesn’t realize how disgusting they are. With their slimy bodies and bulging eyes and gaping mouths. Shuddering, I take another swig of wine. With each drink, my hangover subsides that bit more.
Kyffin’s shoulders seem to curl as he watches the mad princess. I nudge his knee with my elbow. “What has you down, little brother?”
His silver eyes fill with tears that he quickly swipes away. “I’d rather not say.”
Strange. He usually confides in me. I study him for the longest time, trying to figure out what could be bothering him. That is when I notice the empty scabbard on his belt. The onlytime I’ve ever seen it empty is when he has his sword in his hand. The boy sleeps with the thing. “Where is your sword?”
His brow tightens. “Boris took it.”
What a heartless prick. Boris knows that sword is Kyff’s favorite thing in the world. I take another sip of wine to try and calm myself. Doesn’t work. “Why did he do that?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“He says I can’t have it back until I master my element.”
“You’re only nine.” I know for a fact that Boris couldn’t even light a candle until he turned fourteen. Where did he get off, putting that kind of pressure on a child who just got his wings?
Kyff lets out a heavy sigh and starts digging the toe of his boot into a clump of grass. “I told him that, and he said I wasn’t trying hard enough.”