He laughs, but I catch the flash of surprise in his eyes. “I’m heartbroken.”
“It’ll mend.”
“So why would you do this? Seriously, now, Rae.”
I consider the snatchers, and the truth of a princess who has no one to lean on, and the stories Filadon has told me. “I suppose I like that she wanted the impostor hanged rather than tortured.”
Filadon raises his eyebrows, but I can’t tell his thoughts past that affectation. “Interesting.”
I cross my arms, watching him. “You’ve changed. Or maybe you were always this way, I just didn’t see it when you visited.” Filadon was always cheerful and genuine and—open in a way that he isn’t here. He’s still deeply himself, but there are more layers to him now, and I can’t quite parse his motivations.
He sighs. “A horse ranch is a little different from a court.”
“Wouldn’t have guessed,” I say, waving a hand at the richness of the room. “Must be the lack of manure.”
“Oh, there’s plenty of that here.”
I let out a bark of laughter. His eyes laugh back at me, and I find myself saying, “I don’t like that sometimes I can’t tell what you’re about.”
“I wouldn’t be much of a politician if you could.”
“Maybe, but whose gain were you thinking of when you suggested me for this post?”
He doesn’t even blink. “The only trouble with you, Rae, is you’re a little too straightforward.”
“It’s the country girl in me. You didn’t answer my question.”
“I’d rather not play word games with you.”
“So you try to distract me?”
He chuckles. “Not much likelihood of that, is there? Once you get your teeth in something, you don’t let go.”
“Why thank you,” I say with mock coldness. “I don’t know when I was last complimented so nicely.”
“I have a way with words,” he agrees. “I think it’s why Melly chose me.”
I look at him, and warmth fills my heart for this man, however hard he may be to read. He clearly loves my cousin well, and isn’t afraid to speak of their love, acknowledge it time and again. He might make light of himself, but never her. “I’m glad she has you,” I say quietly.
That wasn’t the rejoinder he was expecting, and he goes still, looking at me. Really looking, as if there were some subtext he should have read into my words. But then he responds, just as quietly, “I’m grateful for her every day of my life.”
Beautiful man. I smile, and lean back against the sofa, and look toward the door. What would it be like to be loved like that?
Now, there’s a foolish thought. I shift, one foot flat against the ground and the other turned, and keep my gaze on the door.
“The prince should be here shortly,” Filadon says after a moment.
I nod, and even though he never did answer my question, I say nothing else.
The door opens a few minutes later. The prince enters, dressed for the morning in formal attire, a brocade knee-length sea-green coat over a cream tunic, his pants loose and flowing. He wears embroidered leather slippers with such long curling toes that I have an urge to tell Filadon that no, they are not suited to manure at all. But I refrain, rising to face the prince in silence.
“Filadon,” Kestrin says with a nod. His features are sharp, aristocratic, with high cheekbones and a defined jaw. He would look exceptionally handsome but for a grayish tinge to his features. Perhaps he’s been unwell.
Filadon bows. “Zayyid, may I present my wife’s cousin, Kelari Amraeya ni Ansarim,” he says, naming me as the daughter of my father.
“A pleasure.” Kestrin inclines his head to my curtsy.
I smile, unsure whether his words require a response. Mine too? Good to meet you? Better to keep quiet.
“Will you be staying with us long?”
“A few months, zayyid,” I reply, meeting his gaze. I had thought Filadon’s look inscrutable, but this man appears to have all the emotion of a stone. “Through summer’s end.”
“Very good. Filadon has spoken to you, I surmise.”
I dart a glance at Filadon, who merely watches us, unperturbed. Surely the prince should want to know more? “Yes, zayyid.”
“Your service will be appreciated. You will, of course, be recompensed. Most attendants receive ample reward over the course of their service, but, since you will be leaving so soon, we will make arrangements for you.”
For all that Filadon has just suggested this to me, I am disconcerted by his words, the directness of them. “I don’t require payment.”
“A reward, then,” he says, his eyes warming fractionally. “I would not have it said that we did not value you.”
I flush, ready to argue, but Filadon shifts, stepping on my good foot.
The corner of Kestrin’s mouth quirks down. “Though I honor you for your sentiment.”
He turns back to Filadon. “My betrothed is in her apartments just now. If you escort Kelari Amraeya there, they may meet.”
“As you wish, zayyid,” Filadon says, bowing. He takes my arm, pinching me gently to remind me to curtsy.
Kestrin nods and a moment later he is gone, the door closing behind him.
“That’s it?” I ask, turning to Filadon.
He shrugs, showing not the least sign of curiosity at the strangeness of Kestrin’s interview, or the quickness of his decision. “I expect Zayyida Alyrra will make the final decision.”
“I thought the decision was also mine to make.” I should at least write to my parents before deciding.
Filadon glances at me from the corner of his eye. “You committed to it when you discussed payment with him.”
“Oh.”
“Never mind.” He pats my arm in a brotherly fashion. “I’ll speak with Kestrin and make sure this ‘reward’ will suit you and your family.”
There’s not much my family needs. I follow Filadon into the hallway, pondering the possibilities. “My father’s been wanting a new stallion for our stables.”
“A new stal—” Filadon blinks at me. “You want a horse?”
“A stallion, preferably. We’ve got good breeding mares, but—”
“Shh.” Filadon darts a glance over his shoulder, but the hallway lies empty. “Someone might hear you.”
“I can’t imagine why
