“That’s the qualification for being ‘good’ at something?” I snorted. “Sensible.”
Suddenly my fingers were seized as he lifted my hand. Dry, cool lips brushed the backs of my knuckles. “I’ll see you this evening at dinner, Luna. We can continue our conversation then.”
An invisible band squeezed around my chest. I didn’t want another conversation with him. I didn’t want to be here for another day.
I managed to nod my agreement. He grazed his thumb over my knuckles once in a lingering stroke before letting go of my hand. I listened as his tread faded away, and released a relieved breath.
Everyone continued to step up and try their hand at shooting. Over laughter and applause, I slipped away, leaving the courtyard behind. Since my bedchamber door was guarded at night, my best chance to see Fowler was now. I hurried down winding steps, but my departure wasn’t missed for long. The servant who had escorted me to the courtyard called out above me. My panicked heart jerked in my chest.
Once I hit the corridor floor, I broke into a run, determined to lose my escort. Clutching my bow in one hand, my other skimming the wall to keep my bearings, I turned down the hall. My fingers brushed a thick wall hanging, and I tucked myself behind the tapestry and held still, holding my breath, listening as my escort rushed past. Certain that she was gone, I slipped out from behind the hanging and started down corridor after corridor, pausing at doors to listen.
I passed my bedchamber and kept going, assuming Fowler would be in the same wing. A prince betrothed to the king of Lagonia’s daughter wouldn’t be relegated to anything less than a bedchamber in the royal household.
I had to see Fowler. It was more than assuring myself of his well-being. Selfishly, I needed to see him for me. I needed to hear his voice. I needed to tell him what was happening and hear him tell me that there was a way out of this—that he had no intention of marrying Maris. That we could escape together. Fowler had always been that for me. My comfort when things seemed lost and at their darkest.
Laughter trickled through a door to my left and I stopped, pressing my palms to the thick wood. Leaning in, I flattened my ear to the door and listened. Instantly, I recognized the deep rumble of Fowler’s voice.
My heart leaped. He was awake and talking. My hand moved for the latch, eager to burst inside and touch him, to feel the proof of him alive under my fingertips. His betrayal seemed a long time ago. The shock had ebbed, and I’d begun to think about how it must feel for Fowler to born to a man as awful as Cullan. He was a victim of birth. As was I: born amid a moment of chaos, my parents lost to me before I ever knew them. The sins of his father weren’t his. Fowler could have told me the truth, but I hadn’t told him who I was until someone else had guessed it.
“Oh, Fowler, you need to eat this. Don’t be difficult now. I don’t care if you claim it tastes like horse dung . . . and how you even know that I don’t want to speculate.” Maris paused to giggle. “You need your strength if you’re to leave this bed.”
Fowler’s soft chuckle followed this. The sound was deep and velvet and full of amusement. It was strange to hear him laughing at all, much less laughing with Maris. I had heard that laughter only a few times. Rare as the sound was, I had prized it. My heart clenched to hear him laugh so freely with Maris, even though it had no right to hurt or ache. It was his laughter and not mine to own.
“I can already see how our marriage will be,” Maris teased in a voice full of fondness. “You stubborn but always making me laugh.” A long pause followed these words. I heard nothing but the clink of a spoon in a bowl. “I look forward to our future, Fowler. My only regret is that you took so long to get here.”
I sucked in a pained breath. I waited to hear his response, his denial or acceptance of her words. Neither came. But then, perhaps his silence was an answer in itself. His silence was acceptance. Perhaps his brush with death had led to this? Perhaps his gratitude to Lagonia for saving his life had changed his mind?
Maybe he had forgotten all about his quest to reach Allu.
Maybe he had forgotten about me.
I turned my face in the direction of my chamber. To hell with all this supposition. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t mine. He belonged to Lagonia now. Perhaps I needed to embrace the same fate and belong to Lagonia, too.
At least I would belong somewhere.
There were worse fates. I could spend all day counting them. Prince Chasan . . . Maybe something could grow between us. Listening to Fowler and Maris, it was clear that something had already started to grow between them.
I backed away from the door as if it were something tangible that might leap out and bite me. Fowler’s voice started to speak again, and I quickly turned away. I didn’t want to hear any more. I didn’t need to. I’d heard everything I needed to.
SEVENTEEN
Luna