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Trystan imagined it would have been immensely comforting to reflect that she didn’t need money. That because of her innate goodness and staggering beauty, someone was bound to fall in love with her. But she was reasonably intelligent and mostly realistic. And she had a mirror.
Trystan giggled. “Stop making me laugh,” she protested. “It isn’t dignified, especially when we’ve only just met.” “Dignity,” he replied, “is highly over-rated. Besides, how can we have just met? We never once spoke of the weather or complimented one another on our sartorial splendor. It seems obvious to me that we’ve known each other for ages.”
“I would not hurt you,” the man said quietly. “Though I know you have little reason to believe it.” “I believe you would not hurt me on purpose,” she answered honestly. “But I also believe we do not always get to choose who is hurt and who is not.” He looked sad and dropped her hand. “No,” he said, turning away. “We do not.”
But as his father had so recently reminded him, Ramsey was to be king. The only thing he was truly free to do was to think of his kingdom first, and a girl whose dress and behavior would be considered a scandal by the court was not what the already divided kingdom needed.
Trystan made it home before the party-goers were awake enough to demand breakfast. Or lunch. Or whatever one called the first meal of the day when it happened not long before tea-time.
Trystan translated mentally, wanting very much to know about those “channels” she was not to be concerned with. In her experience, when someone said not to be concerned, it usually meant you should be.
“Your job is simple, my friend,” said Ramsey with a heartfelt sigh. “If you see a smart one, don’t let her get away.” Kyril favored him with a mock-salute. “Anything else, Your Highness?” “If you see Rowan, stuff him in the moat,” Ramsey suggested. Kyril grinned. “You don’t have a moat.” “Dig one then.”
It was not, however, odd enough to distract her from the miserable irony of her situation. Her secret friend, a man she had grown to like and respect, had turned out to be the prince. And she was here, at his masqued ball, a mysterious stranger wearing a beautiful dress. If this had been a story, she would simply walk inside, dance one dance, fall in love, marry her prince and be happy forever. Except, of course, this was not a story, and she had not gone to the ball to marry the prince but to betray him.
Trystan listened in growing amusement as Larissa cut off her hair, ran away to sea, and married one of her father’s ship captains, whom she liked but wasn’t allowed to speak to because he was beneath her. By the time they acquired two glasses of punch, Larissa’s three darling little boys had become pirates and her parents had died in shame.
All she cared about now was the means, and they had used her, Trystan, because she was fool enough to let herself be used. She had done no murder and brewed no poison but her choices had made it possible.
Long before she ran out of apologies, Trystan fell asleep.
“If we spend our whole lives reacting to something, it can be difficult to know what to do when the time comes simply to act.”
“Love that kills and destroys to protect itself is not love at all.”
An afternoon this perfect should not have hairpins in it.
“Life is too precious for regret,” he told her. “Remorse and forgiveness are important, yes, but not regrets. Because in the end, we affect each other in unforeseen ways. No one would have chosen the path you have walked. But if it had not been for all the misunderstandings, all the suffering, and yes, the betrayals, we would not be sitting here today.”
