Cleo broke a loaf of bread in half and slipped it into the basket. “You’re her friend. She told me. And besides, I’m not an idiot. I saw your concern for her that night in the garden. You didn’t have to step in and help her take care of things, but you didn’t hesitate. And then you kissed her, so—”
“She told you about that?” He stared at Cleo in horror.
Cleo laughed. “Best friends, remember? Anyway, you did what you had to to protect her because she’s your friend.”
“She can’t be my friend. She’s the princess.”
Cleo shut the basket and pushed it into Sebastian’s hands. “She’s Ari. There really isn’t another label that fits. And she needs us. Someone has to make sure she breathes fresh air and doesn’t lose her mind chasing after the faint hope that she can fix this for Thad. I’ll go get her.”
“What am I supposed to do with this?” He lifted the now full basket.
“Take her on a picnic,” Cleo said as she disappeared out of the pantry and headed into the palace proper.
He’d come here only to check on the princess. To see with his own eyes that she was all right. And maybe to show her that nothing between them had changed, and she could feel comfortable resuming her lessons if she wanted to.
He’d just let her know that he still had lesson time available. He’d give her the basket and tell her Cleo had made lunch for her and that she should eat it. And then he’d leave, and it would be up to her to show up at the arena or stay away.
With this plan firmly in place, he walked out of the pantry just as Cleo and Ari stepped into the kitchen. He stopped in his tracks, taking in the princess’s appearance with a swift glance. Her shoulders were bowed as if she carried an enormous weight. There were faint smudges of exhaustion beneath her eyes, and her hair was carelessly thrown into a haphazard bun on top of her head. She blinked wearily at him and mustered a tiny smile.
His heart twisted as he locked eyes with Cleo. She raised a brow and glared pointedly at the basket in his hands.
And, stars help him, he opened his mouth and said, “There’s something I need you to see.”
The princess frowned. “What is it?”
Cleo gave an exasperated huff. “Go with him and find out. Now. Before Mama puts you to work in the kitchen. You know you’re too tired to bake. Stars know, we don’t need you confusing paprika for cinnamon again. I still get heartburn just thinking about those cookies.”
Before the princess could argue further, Cleo gave her a little push in Sebastian’s direction. He looped the basket’s handle over one arm and used the other to open the door for her. She blinked in the brilliant sunshine and shivered a little as the sea breeze gusted over them.
“What do I need to see?” she asked.
He panicked, scrambling for an answer that would keep her outside long enough for the break to do her any good. The barn that was nearly complete in the south field? The arena and the weapons he’d thought they might try after she mastered the throwing star?
She wouldn’t come with him for either of those things. He needed something different. Something that held enough meaning to keep her attention on him rather than on the problems her brother faced with Teague.
He opened his mouth to tell her stars knew what and was shocked to hear himself say, “I need you to see something that means a great deal to me.”
Mortification was a hot flush of shame that rolled over his skin and left him wanting to take every single word back, but then she gave him a weary smile—a real one—and said, “As long as it isn’t a shield specifically designed to protect you from my throwing star or a patch of mint to protect you from my kisses, I’d love to.”
His lips twitched. “No shield. No mint. I don’t need protection from you.”
“I’m not sure that’s entirely true, but lead on.”
They walked south, past the arena, over the long expanse of pasture that was sometimes used for the palace horses, and into the south field where the stone barn was nearly finished. Color returned to her cheeks as they hiked, and her shoulders straightened.
“You wanted me to see the barn?” she asked.
“No.”
She looked around as they walked beyond the barn and down to where the field dipped into a sparse forest of aspen and cypress trees interspersed with enormous white boulders that were scattered about like the remnants of a giant’s broken toy.
“The trees?” she asked.
“Not quite.”
He led her through the trees, the band of tension that always squeezed his chest easing as the breeze fluttered through the leaves above him and the sound of the Chrysós came closer. When they reached the point where the land broke off into a jagged cliff, he set the basket on a slab of white stone and faced the glittering gold of the sea.
She was quiet as she stood beside him. Her hair tumbled out of its bun to stream in the wind, and she closed her eyes as seabirds swooped overhead, and the trees rustled softly behind them.
“It’s perfect,” she said quietly.
“I’m going to live in a place like this one day.”
“It suits you.”
“Does it?” He turned from watching the waves thunder against the shore to study her instead.
She opened her eyes, and there was a spark of confidence and compassion there that had been buried by exhaustion earlier. “It’s solitary and unknowable on some level, no matter how long you stand here. There’s a restless, pent-up power in the sea, and you know if it ever decided to stop respecting its boundaries, it could destroy you. But it does respect its boundaries. It stays where it should, so its power feels safe. When you stand here, surrounded by mystery and beauty and power, you feel safe.”
“And you think I need to feel safe?” he asked, though he didn’t want to. Her words had stripped him bare in places that he’d fought for years to hide. He didn’t know which was worse—that she saw him so clearly, or that he wanted her to.
“We all do.” Her voice was gentle. “But when I said this suits you, I meant that its restrained power and mystery remind me of you.”
He didn’t know what to do with her words, so he sat, letting the cold from the rock seep into his clothing. She sat beside him, and he opened the picnic basket.
“Cleo packed this. She was pretty determined to get you out of the palace for a while.”
The princess laughed, though she sounded tired. “She usually just follows along with my ideas, but when she gets fixed on one of her own, there’s no stopping her.”
She took an orange and peeled it. The bite of citrus in the air made his stomach rumble. He reached for the other orange as she said, “I heard you ate with the other staff recently.”
“Word travels fast.”
She grinned. “Faster than you’d think. I’m told that you’re particularly fond of potatoes and pie—I told you the pie was good—but that your conversational skills are somewhat lacking.”
He gave her a pained look. “People kept talking to me.”
“They tend to do that.”
“And they expected me to talk back.”