Until a dream a few weeks ago.
Somehow those long buried memories of a happy childhood had come back to haunt her with a vicious vegeance. Her first memory of Darling was when she’d been five and he nine. Her cat had climbed out of her room, onto the roof after her sister had left their window open. Terrified it would die or get hurt, she’d asked her older brother Geritt for help, but the rotten little beast had refused, saying he hoped her cat jumped to its death so that it wouldn’t bite or claw him anymore.
Without hesitation and after chiding her brother for his cruelty, Darling had bravely climbed out after it, onto her steep roof. Twice he’d almost slipped off. But instead of saving himself and returning inside where he’d be safe, he’d gone the whole way to the gutter and then brought her beloved pet back to her. Even now, she could see the way he’d looked as he came back through the window with her cat cradled in his bloodied hand—her cat had clawed and bitten him the whole time he’d been rescuing it.
His short red hair had been tousled from the wind. His sleeve torn from where he’d almost fallen and his arm was scuffed and bleeding through the material. Still, his blue eyes had been shining with concern for her and her beloved pet as he handed it back to her with a smile that had only increased his boyish handsomeness and charm.
He hadn’t said a single word about his injuries. Rather, he’d closed the window and then wrapped her cat in a blanket so that it wouldn’t scratch her.
Worse, his father had loudly and very publicly castigated him when he’d seen Darling’s condition. “You’re a prince, boy, not some lowborn hooligan who can’t control himself. You have to live and breathe decorum at all times. Do you understand? When you look like this and roll around on the ground like some recumbent barbarian, you not only embarrass yourself, you embarrass me. What were you thinking? You’re too old to behave like this. I swear, Darling, it’s ridiculous that I can’t depend on you for something as simple as staying clean for an hour. What was so important to you that you had to get filthy for it, huh?”
She’d held her breath in fear that Darling would tell their fathers that she was to blame for his dishabille. While his father’s setdown had been bad, hers would have been much worse. To have endangered their heir…
That was a crime punishable by death, and while Arturo wouldn’t enforce that law to protect Darling, his father would have.
Not to mention, her father would have killed her for letting Darling take the blame for something that was her fault, and not speaking up to defend him.
But she’d been too petrified of the consequences to say a single word.
To Darling’s credit, he’d kept his spine straight as he stoically took his father’s berating. He didn’t speak until his father had asked him what he had to say for himself.
Her eyes filled with tears, Zarya had held her breath, waiting for Darling to denounce her like her brother would have done in a heartbeat.
Instead, Darling had met his father’s gaze without flinching. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I shall endeavor to do better and not shame you again.” He’d inclined his head to her father. “Please forgive me, my lord. I meant no disrespect to you or your family by being unkempt in your home. I hope I haven’t offended you overmuch.”
His father had sighed heavily, then looked at her. “I swear, Zalan, he is a good boy. I hope you won’t hold it against him.”
“No harm done, Your Majesty.”
Still, the fury on the governor’s face said that Darling would be punished later for saving her cat.
But rather than being angry at her for getting him into trouble, Darling had looked up to where she was peeping through the staircase spindles on the landing above him and winked at her. Then, after making sure his father wasn’t watching, he’d smiled and given her a military salute.
He’d been her hero that day.
More than that, he’d kept her brother from mocking her anytime Darling was around. Darling had a problem with anyone picking on or belittling another. It was something that had gone against his grain as a child…
And as an adult. Kere had zero tolerance for cruelty of any kind. Physical or verbal.
On another visit, when she’d been seven and he was eleven… just months before his father had died, she’d wanted to play ball with them, but Geritt had adamantly refused to have her join them. So she’d followed behind them in what she thought was stealth mode. Geritt had caught her and shoved her away, telling her that girls had no business playing boy games.