I yawned, violently as we arrived to the familiar patch of wildflowers the farmhouse oversaw. And I could not slide off of Isaac quick enough. She'd only tried to throw me a number of times, but the real issue was my momentum. I moved like someone poured molasses out onto the grass. I hadn't even taken pleasure in riding her, I was just exhausted.

Despite what I had told Willoughby. I hadn't fallen back asleep from his intrusion- or whatever it was. Somewhere between the embarrassment of divulging secrets within the early hours, and the guilt of working my staff so hard- an entire night and an entire morning with these rides- had started to eat me. On top of that, it was difficult to shake the dust of Ser Elías' and my's fight. I felt off. Incomplete and frustrated. Like I was witnessing the death of our relationship; helpless to prevent.

The man had only ever wanted the best for me, only ever protected me. And here I was sabotaging everything he'd ever done to see to it. I was too proud to apologize; too sure he'd consider it praise for his way of demonstrating his loyalty.

Cyrus didn't need a lesson in manners; he needed to run far, far away from me. Far away from Ser Elías, and everything the two of us could offer him.

But I didn't want him to. I wanted to know why he kept eyeing me.

He took Ice's lead and released her into the fenced area along with Edith. Willoughby ushered in his pair, and when they were all happily running amuck, he latched the gate and patted my knight on his back. He leaned in, whispered something, and Cyrus, again, looked at me.

Josie came and gushed beside me, obliterating all hope to crack the mystery from here. 

"Daniel wants to show me the riverside," she hummed. "I am forever in your debt for this. Had it not been for you, I would never have spoken to him so freely."

"Oh, I don't know," I touched my cheek, feeling my own sort of excitement. If Willoughby was taking her to the river, did that mean-? He had promised me time alone; I was shocked he'd meant it.

The two men sauntered closer, my knight holding his arm out for my maid's with a smile for hers. "Miss Jocelyn, at your leave," he said.

I saw the nerves, or delight, or whatever it was, lift her off her heels a fraction of an inch. She took his hand much more modestly, not forgetting to curtsy to us. "If it pleases you, Miss?"

"Josie," I whined. "Don't offend me by asking permission. The gentlemen requests your audience. If you should want to entertain him, then be free to accept his invitation. And. That goes for the lot of you," I added. "Stop calling me Your Highness. And bowing. We're alone. We're friends. Titles have only ever been a formality for everyone else but friends."

"As you wish it," Wiloughby said. "Svana."

He'd meant to call my bluff, and it did feel weird, but I followed my name with his to drive the point. "I do wish it, Daniel."

He and Josie but just as quickly they lost their interest in me for each other. They departed from Cyrus and I; out of sight and out of mind, and I spent a good minute, dwelling in my nerves. Making sure they were actually gone before I dared to speak.

And I was still sort of mad at Cyrus. Mostly. Maybe? A little? I'd spent so much of the time we were apart, trapped in a constant turn of thoughts about him, that now that I was in his wake, I couldn't muster the strength to do anything about it. The ideas I had borne, to kiss him as soon as I'd saw him, to yell at him-! They were all gone.

Static. 

"Where should we settle in?" he asked.

I shrugged, but in the same motion, started towards the spot where we had spent our first picnic together. He didn't complain, he just swung the basket, tossing our blanket to the ground as we arrived. "If you've brought wine today, I think I should resist," I snarked.

Cyrus turned and it was as though his presence was meant to press onto me, to sink me deeper into the dirt. "Are you cross this morning?" he asked.

"Cross?" I scoffed. "Why would I be cross with you?"

"Ah, so then yes."

"I would thank you not assume my feelings, Mr. Evergreen." I wasn't sure why I had called him that, why I'd felt the impulse to create space between us. I had just insisted everyone call me Svana.

"I don't have to assume anything." He worked on settling the mat. "Women, notably you, are direct. If you ask 'are you cross with me' and they reply with anything other than 'no,' like say, 'why would I be cross with you,' they are, in fact, cross with you."

"Stop analyzing me," I cried. "Comparing me to your conquests. I'm not cross."

"You're not?" he wondered. "You sound cross."

"You sound cross! I'm perfectly content," I grumbled. "But! If I were cross with you, I'd sure have my reason."

He checked around us. "Is it the kissing?"

"...Yes," I sang back. "It's the kissing."

"You kissed me," he said.

"You," I shifted. "Kissed me back."

"I did," I saw it as he tensed. "And I apologize if that's somehow offends you."

"Yes it offends me!" I cried. "It offends me that you only kissed me the once. That we've had plenty of opportunities to find ourselves entangled on the floors of stables, or farm houses, or- Why are you looking at me like that! This is exactly why I'm so angry with you! Stop it!"

My words made their way through him, and after the effort he took to process them, he picked and chose a single word to repeat. "Once?"

"Do keep up. Unless you kissed me while I was unconscious that night, then yes. By my count. Once." I shook my head. "This is stupid," I spat. "A stupid argument. Can we not move on? We're grown. Let's decide it was a moment of insanity. Forget about it. Then we can both be quite happy and stop this maddening bickering!"

"...No." He folded his arms. "I don't want to do that."

"That doesn't-? What? Why? I'm giving you an out, take it, you fool!"

"Now I'm a fool. That's lovely."

"Cyrus!"

"Swan!"

"Stop! Calling me that!" I begged. "Ooof! You are infuriating! Just agree to my treaty!"

"No," he scowled. "You're upset I only kissed you once," he said. "Is that right? Is that what I'm hearing?" He took an absolutely certain step towards me. "Is that why Daniel told me to come find them when we were 'ready?'"

"He told you that?"

"Do you want me to kiss you again, Swan?"

I looked up at him as he crowded me, his hand rising to brush the highest exposed part of my arm. I shamelessly dipped to the contact, birthing a smile to his face.

"If you want me to be forward with you," he said. "Speak now or forever hold your peace."

I pouted, not able to reply to it. "...I want to know what you want. We never determined that."

"You want to know what I want? With you?" he asked. His hand went around my back to edge me closer, until he could lean down to my ear too easily. "I'm a man, Princess. I'm not a prince; I'm not a lord."

Within my chest, that traitor, my heart; fluttered and I reared at the sensation of his breath hot on my neck, just enough to see his face. He was relaxed, almost eager at my response, but quiet.

Very quiet.

"...Please," I whined. "What is it you want?"

"I want you to tell me to kiss you," he replied.

"I... I want you to kiss me."

With my confession, I had expected him to erupt into a fit of passion, take me into his arms, and pin me to the blanket, or carry me into the house, but I was far too inexperienced to anticipate what could happen. I certainly didn't expect him to take a step back and sit cooly on the sheet to eat a sandwich.

"Are we not... waiting for the others?" I asked.

He snickered, gesturing to the basket. "As much fun as it is to be the social Mr. Evergreen, I prefer to take advantage of these moments alone with you."

This was taking advantage? I thought. I think he was very aware of where my mind had gone, as he was quick to add;

"Willoughby said to find them, I imagine we have plenty of time for sandwiches."

When I didn't know how to move, Cyrus caught sight of something behind me. He climbed to his feet, finishing the last of his bite, and then plucked something out of the grass. He hid it behind his back to taunt me. "It's not a feather," he said. "But it is white."

"What's white?"

"This daisy," he said, revealing it.

The flower left me speechless. Perfectly round; its petals unbruised by Cyrus' callous hands, somehow prettier than the flowers Sam had given me. "A daisy?" I repeated. He gave it to me, and when I took it, he was happy.

"I'll save you the trouble of dissecting its special meaning. I saw it there, thought you might like it, so I plucked it for you."

"Ha!" It was quite beautiful. I couldn't help but smile, and Cyrus couldn't help but step closer to me. He brought his palm to the underside of my face, and leaned forward, gently, sweetly, lightly kissing my lips.

"Should we go inside?" I said.

He disconnected, the magic and the spark between us gone. "I don't think that's a good idea," he stammered.

"Why not?" I asked.

He frowned. "Because you're-" starting awkwardly. "Inexperienced? And-"

"Inexpe-?" I replayed the word. "Oh!" I gasped. "No! I meant- For the privacy!"

"The privacy?"

"Yes! Because. There's a door. And. I thought. We could. Kiss privately? Not-"

"We really need to revisit your phrasing. I thought-?" He fought off a self-deprecating laugh.

"You thought I wanted to-?"

"You asked me to go inside!" He shrugged.

"I... Hey! Wait!" I frowned." Do you not wish to 'go inside' with me?"

"Svana," he moaned.

"Why not? Because I'm inexperienced? Does my virginity offend you? Or do-?"

"Good God, do stop," he mused. "That is not the case, I assure you. Now wait. Are you angry that I've chosen to be a gentleman? Most women would remark on a man's nature if he were to remain patient with this sort of thing!"

"Sort of thing. It's not an affliction! You think there's something wrong with me. It's not like I haven't had the urge, I've just never had the opportunity and-"

"Urges, huh? Yes, I do recall dreams of bedposts."

"Ugh!" I swatted him and he returned fire playfully, but soon the smile dropped from my face and the whole mood sank. I crossed my arms.

"There's nothing wrong with you," he said. "But because of your status, both in experience and your engagement. It feels wrong to take advantage of it. Your first time should be special. Not in a deteriorating farmhouse. "

"You'll forgive me for feeling differently."

He raised a brow at that, "About farmhouses?"

"About whom I spend my time with. Lord, you're crass."

He didn't even snicker at that, like I thought he would, but instead he eyed me a little closer. "Additionally. You're not like the other women I've been with. You're..."

"Oh, spare me! Is this where you tell me I'm special? Am I supposed to swoon?"

That earned the smirk I'd been after. "Dangerous, was my choice."

"I'm ...dangerous?" I stuped.

"Aye. A major risk. Bearing major consequences for someone like me to suffer, should we be caught in this affair. I could get hurt, kissing the Prince's wife. Worse for worse."

"I wouldn't let that happen," I said.

"You've told your knight about us," he nodded towards the direction he'd gone.

"If we were caught, I would be sure everyone knew it was a mutual connection."

"Your reputation would not recover. I could not do that to you." He shook his head. "And Sam..."

"Sam wouldn't care!"

"You don't know him like I do. He would care."

"Yes, and if we were caught, I would cite Agatha, and we would be even, and that would be the end of that."

"We've been close since youth. Sam was my first friend here. And though you might want to hear it, he is a sensitive sort."

"I will refrain from commenting, but I want it noted that Sam doesn't care about my sensitivities. Besides. We're friends. I wouldn't... I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

"Does Ser Elías subscribe to our friendship?"

"Elías won't be a problem."

"He was very clear the last time I saw him. It makes me nervous to learn that both of your knights sense there's something between us."

"Elías wouldn't hurt a fly," I insisted.

"He's a knight. His job is hurt." 

"In the way of duty. Not- Cyrus. I swear, I would not let you get injured. Elias would never hurt me. Hurting you would hurt me. I've-" I had to stop myself. "Why am I fighting this? I respect myself far too much to beg you to like me."

"No one's begging," he said. "We're discussing."

I bit my lip, newly confused. "We should head back."

"I didn't-" He caught my arm as I tried to turn away. "I don't want this to stop," he said. He stepped closer, tentatively sliding his hand into mine." But I am a man of reason. I don't leap before I look. I can't."

Cyrus' face had become half-obstructed by the falling shadows of the moving sun, but all the same, highlighted. Every sharp feature, somehow more handsome. Defined. Especially in this moment of vulnerability. "I am, I confess, attracted to you. But I'm not... I'm not ready for... If that bothers you-?"

"It doesn't," I cut him off. "I can understand your hesitation. And because I am so... Well I understand."

"There's more," he paused. After too long, he sighed, and added. "Lydia and I parted mutually, but not painlessly."

"Oh. I... I'm sorry," I sang. "...Was there someone else?"

"Yes." At first I was injured for him, by the simple word, his response, but then he continued with, "On my part."

"You...? Were unfaithful? Before you said-" I worried.

"Not exactly." Cyrus took another breath, not allowing me to butt in. "So you and I are clear. I am receptive to this relationship. Whatever it is; whatever you want from me. I've spent a lot of our time considering what it would mean if we... But."

I deflated. "But you're in love with someone else?"

Before I was consumed by the thought, he perked up, shaking his head. "What? No," very adamantly. "Not what I was going to say."

"I don't understand? You and Lydia just parted. You said there was another." My hand trembled in his. I could feel how nervous the rest of my body was; how his was, as he moved closer to me.

"There was no one else. What I meant was..." He groaned. "Christ. Don't hold this against me- but. What I meant was, she and I weren't... each other's match. If that makes sense?"

"You didn't get along?"

"We got on just fine. Quite well, actually."

"Then you weren't attracted to her? Or her, you?"

"No," he frowned. "I meant. We're not. We're not meant to be married. To each other."

"You're not...?" I wove together each word and then gasped. "You're not soulmates?"

"That's a word for it," he rolled his eyes.

"You believe in soulmates!" I croaked. "You burdened me with foolish guilt! Mocked me for my feather! You fiend! You're a romantic!"

"Alright, alright!" He patted the air. "Enough of it, now. I don't know what I believe, I just know Lydia wasn't- Well she deserved better, for one. A man who would love her, and only her."

"How did she feel about that?" I asked.

He looked curiously at me, but dismissed the comment. "As I was saying, this... Us? I am very aware of its lifespan. I imagine you need me to be, but from you, I need you to consider more discretion."

"Lifespan? What does that mean?"

He squinted. "You're marrying another man in mere months."

"Right," I hummed. "Well. That's fair."

"I'm just not sure what I can give you. And with Sam-"

"I see," I wish I could say his rationality had eased me, but all I felt was corrosion in my gut.

"Is that alright? That we take this slow?"

I hadn't considered slow, or what 'slow' meant. What it could mean. I had only lived in the realization that seeing Cyrus, playing hide and seek with him, running around the woods, riding horses through Chalke, had made me happy. I didn't want to slow down, I wanted to lose myself in this. In him. But at least it wasn't 'stop.' "Slow," I said, followed by a blatant lie. "Slow is good. Slow is. Slow is grand."

He wasn't convinced. "Alright?"

"Consider the reins yours," I whispered. His thumb brushed over my knuckles, a sweet, simple gesture that made me feel awful for my thoughts. "I'll follow your lead."

Something about those words bent his expression into one of reverence or perhaps relief, and he affirmed them with an easy nod.

That understanding between us led to an impossible closeness; my back into the gate. Edith rustled, apparently next to where my head had landed, and Cyrus jestfully moved her face away from mine.

"Some privacy, love," he told her. He braced the freed hand behind us, latching to the fence. Soon the smirk, the air, and the ambience that made the man 'Cyrus Evergreen' returned in full bloom to kiss me. Parting from my lips he said, "And you are special. I don't want to ruin this."

"Ugh," I whined. "Why did that work on me?"

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