If Frederic felt something for me, he was fighting it. And although my heart wanted to, my head couldn’t blame him. I forced myself to hold that head high when I saw him the next day, to laugh and joke as if nothing had happened. He seemed grateful for it, responding in kind, although every now and then I found him watching me with a confused look in his eyes.
I could only assume in the absence of probing questions that Celine hadn’t picked up on it. Perhaps because she was so preoccupied with helping along Cassian’s currently non-existent romance. Cassian himself was still unaware of this mission since Celine had decided that surprise was her best weapon on this occasion.
When Tillie arrived to share our meal, I watched Cassian over her shoulder as we exchanged cheek kisses. Somewhat to my astonishment, his face turned red and then deathly pale. Someone handed him a bowl of food, and he took it without looking, his eyes fixed on the trader girl instead. After standing immobile for a moment, he attempted to sit without checking beneath him first and nearly toppled over on the uneven ground. Anyone would have thought him a mere youth, and not a man grown.
My eyes widened as Tillie moved on to greet Frederic. Celine was giving me a knowing look, and I had to give her credit. Staid, calm, reserved Cassian certainly seemed to have strong feelings of some sort for my old friend.
But to my increasing dismay, Cassian proceeded not to open his mouth for the rest of the evening. The other four of us laughed and talked easily, and Frederic made several attempts to bring his brother into the conversation. But Cassian merely shook his head or nodded, no matter how inappropriate such a response was to the question.
I caught Tillie several times during the meal throwing him odd, almost concerned looks. Did she think there was something wrong with him? If she had heard he was destined to be his brother’s Chief Advisor one day, she was probably experiencing some strong concerns. The whole situation was so humorous, I found myself fighting not to laugh on several occasions, despite my own personal heartbreak.
To my surprise, Celine made no attempt to praise Cassian to Tillie or to bring him into the conversation. She seemed content to let him sit there like a lump. It didn’t seem the soundest strategy at first glance, but I had no doubt she had a devious plan in play.
It was easy enough to see that Tillie had charmed all three royals by the end of her visit, just as she had charmed all of us all those years ago. She was intelligent and well-educated, funny and graceful. She seemed to know everyone in every caravan, and she had even traveled for a year of her youth with one of the larger merchant caravans. In short, she was everything a princess should be. I had no doubt Frederic and Celine would approve the match and could not be surprised at Cassian’s being captivated by her. Unfortunately, given the careful, sympathetic way she bid him goodnight, I also saw little hope for his suit.
As soon as she was gone from view and hearing, Celine collapsed onto the beautiful rug beneath us. “Can’t…breathe,” she wheezed between giggles. She sat up and looked at her brother. “Poor Cassian, I believe she thinks you feeble minded.” She went off into a fresh wave of giggles. “She is most likely feeling sorry for us all and wondering how the royal family managed to hush it up for so many years.”
“Be quiet, Celine.” Cassian looked glumly into his now-empty bowl.
Celine instantly stopped laughing and fixed him with an intense stare. “Admit it, Cassian. There’s no point trying to hide it after that dismal performance. You’re attracted to Tillara.”
Her strategy now made sense. It had been aimed at him, not at her, designed to make him confess everything to us. Still, I was surprised by his response.
“Attracted to her? Every man with sense must feel some attraction toward her. She is perfection itself. I’m not attracted to her—I’m in love with her.” The words seemed wrenched from him, and when he had finished the impassioned declaration, he went back to staring dejectedly into his bowl.
We all looked at one another, shock keeping us silent.
He shrugged. “It does not matter, however. She would never look at me when I cannot even open my mouth in her presence.”
Celine sat beside him and patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Cassian, we’ll help you.” Her serious reassurance and motherly approach looked comical given she was both years younger and more than a head shorter than her brother.
“Cassian, what’s happened to you?” asked Frederic with concern. “I’ve never seen you like this.”
Cassian put his hands to his head, distraught fingers making havoc with his hair. “I’ve never felt like this before—could never have imagined such a feeling! I have always found girls nice enough, their company pleasant, but not gripping enough to divert my focus from my training and the kingdom. But now…now! I can’t sleep, I can barely eat.” He threw his bowl on the ground. “I can’t seem to think of anything but her and how we shall soon leave the caravan, and I’ll never see her again. She is like the moon and the stars—beautiful, but, oh, so achingly distant.”
He subsided once more into moody silence. I knew my mouth was hanging open, but I couldn’t seem to close it. Never would I have imagined that love would hit Cassian in such a way. He had never before showed even the faintest stirrings of a romantic, and Celine had assured me this had always been the case. And yet now he talked like a poet, comparing his unbearable love to the moon and losing all capacity for basic function.
Celine, fortunately, seemed undaunted. “We must make a plan,” she declared.
While the rest of us remained silent—Cassian apparently from the pain of unrequited love, and Frederic and me from shock—she outlined her course of attack. And as day after day plodded on through the desert, she set it into motion.
She decided that familiarity might wear down Cassian’s awkwardness and invited Tillie to join us more and more frequently. This did produce some progress, but since Cassian could still only stutter out a few words here or there, I feared we would need at least a year in the desert before we saw any improvement worthy of hope.
Celine’s next step, of which I highly disapproved, was to inform Tillie of her brother’s love. Tillie actually laughed—a far from promising sign—and assured Celine it could not be so.
“I have much experience in the matter,” she confided with a grin. “Why, he doesn’t even speak to me.”
“He is overwhelmed by the depth of his feelings,” Celine replied gravely. But even I had a hard time keeping a straight face at this. Tillie seemed unconvinced, and it was quite clear that if she could be convinced she would feel only sympathy for his heartbreak.
“That went well,” Celine told me later.
I stared at her in confusion.
“He acts like someone without a brain, manners, or common sense of any type,” said Celine. “Could you respect a girl who would be interested in him anyway because he’s rich and a prince? No! Which means she has given just the response I wanted to hear. Now we just have to show her what he’s really like.”
This third part of her campaign was carried out in stealth and often required two of us to pull it off. We dragged a reluctant Tillie with us to all sorts of odd places around the caravan, positioning ourselves where we could—in essence—spy on Cassian. Often one of us accompanied her while the other engaged him in conversation. Other times we surreptitiously observed his conversations with Frederic, or the steward, or Tillie’s father, the caravan master.
I reminded Celine frequently that it was impolite to eavesdrop, but she told me such concerns must be brushed aside in pursuit of the noble cause of love.