Around noon, I became increasingly aware of how difficult the next week would be, left behind the castle walls and alone. Elías would be gone by Friday. Gone by my hot-headed command; my father's blood— and Josie was taking the night off for emotional stress.

Through my knight, I'd learned that Cyrus had left early this morning with Sam to start the recovery efforts of his effects, and I was... disappointed that soot and rubble were deemed unfitting for a Princess.

"I've written to your father regarding the incident and have alerted him of my arrival ahead of time. Would you like me to pass a personal note along?" Elías asked.

"No," I ambled through the garden. "If I think of anything before you depart, I'll advise."

"I'm sure he'd like to hear from you," he hummed.

"Would he? Surely you're not restricting his letters, as well?"

"You and your father have never been apart so long," he remarked. "Perhaps he doesn't know that he can write you?"

I tried not to roll my eyes, but to a certain extent I didn't care. My mind was preoccupied, still high on the respect my outburst had apparently earned. I was receiving immediate updates on everything and directly from King Sameer himself. "Do you think it is a bad sign that Mr. Evergreen didn't inform me of his plans?"

"I do not," he replied.

"I see, and you're sure?"

Elías tsk'd. "I think I provided a conduit to you before and now he's taking precautions by using it again."

"Precautions?" I worried. "Over what? Me?"

"Relax." He grinned. "Allow me to rephrase, I believe he's trying to be discreet."

"Oh," I eased.

"You're not riding out into the forest to flirt and frolic. You're co-existing under the same roof; everyone watching you. In my experience, that makes clandestine affairs difficult to sail without an audience."

"Clandestine affairs, ha! Elías," I looked at him silly.

"I was young once," he plumed. "Quite popular with the ladies."

"Unfortunately I know this," I teased. "Apparently not popular enough to tempt a Mrs. Gregory Elías, though? Hmm? No matter, I am delighted I have you to myself. I'm not sure I could share your attention with another lady."

He considered it. "And I am quite fulfilled in my career, if you're asking."

"Mmhmm. Spoken like a true spinster."

He snickered, half heartedly, leaving it at that. "I tread lightly, disagreeing with you, Your Highness, but I think Mr. Evergreen's concern with appearances is well placed."

"Hmph."

"I had my initial concerns with him. But after the fire." He stopped. "I'll reluctantly say he's put parts of my mind at ease regarding your safety."

"He has?" I looped my fingers to each other.

"Aye," then he took another moment to choose his words. "I still do not approve of your... intentions, but if you're going to converse privately with anyone, let it be with a man who risks his life for yours. Then at least my hair will grey at half the speed." 

I blushed, but he was on to something. "He is quite gallant."

"I've never disliked the boy," he said.

"Just his station."

"His station doesn't help. But only because of yours. One day when you have children, you'll see how hard it is to accept that anyone could be worthy of their hearts."

"I used to wish you were my father," I dreamed. "The daughter of a knight, not an empire. My life might be happier."

At the end of the path, the lady's maid Sam had replaced Josie with for me curtsied and greeted me at my full title.

"Beg your mercy. Your gown has arrived," she sang.

"Ah, yes." I leaned into Ser Elías. "Duty."

While I shamelessly bore an angry, jealous torch for Miss Swift and her relationship with my Sword, I had to remember to praise her for her eye for detail. In fact, had she not been previously slated for Mrs. Evergreen, I might have taken the afternoon to extend an offer of employment to her. She could return to Oreia with me as my personal designer and I would never have to worry for what I wore again.

The gown; its emerald sheen, was brilliant against the gold piping, and I wanted so badly to explore how far her creativity could be extended into my wardrobe. I just didn't want her anywhere near Cyrus. Not that he would... return to Oreia with me at any point but...?

Maybe I was better off to steal her away from here?

Unless I could convince him to travel? That was a thought. He had saved me more than once. I could sell the idea as that. Enlist him as my defense instructor. I could convince Sam to part from him for a season every year? Maybe while he was in Chalke so I did not have to divide or shield my time?

I sighed longfully, swaying a little in front of my reflection to test the might of the dress against the promise of a night dancing. It seemed to glide seamlessly, and glimmer ever so slightly in the right light, but all I could think about was if a certain swordsman would appreciate its delicate stitching if I snuck off the night of the Masquerade to show him.

It was quickly approaching, just weeks out, and if he were still residing in the Palace, if I could play up the hospitality through his friend, and insist we keep him for that long, then I could-!

The Prince's voice cut through my chamber door. "All I'm asking is you slow down a moment," I heard him say. The interruption filled me with a special glint as it could only mean one thing; Cyrus was back with him and now was as good a time as any to plant the seed of my nafariam. "Cyrus," Sam said faster.

I walked out, only to appear right in front of them. Cyrus' hand glided along the wall, either as a reminder of where the structure was, or for balance, based on his expression, but I wasn't sure.

"Mr. Evergreen?" I hummed. "What a surprise. ...Sam." His eyes shut and I wasn't sure if he had heard me. He was sweating. "Working hard?"

"Excuse me," was his reply.

Sam groaned. "He's been moody this afternoon. Hardly helped us load everything, either."

"Oh. Well surely a ride might improve things?" I suggested, but he just shook his head. "Are you... well?"

"I'm fine," he said, brasher.

Instantly my heart sank, reemerging from its depths with an unsteady flutter at how he looked at me.

He'd changed his mind.

Visiting the remains of his home had slaughtered the fantasy. Knowing me. Kissing me. It was too much.

Too dangerous.

Too high a cost.

He wished we were strangers.

I was, by trade, unfortunately poor at hiding my defeat. I let my brows slant together as I considered a few ways to word the ten thousand questions I had. "Was anything salvageable?"

Idiot.

"I need to," he exhaled. "Lie down."

I didn't get another word in before he continued on towards his room. He didn't look back, or say goodbye, he just...sauntered away from me and I... 

"The foundation is there but it'll be a month or two to return it to its proper glory," Sam said.

"What?" I whimpered.

"The cottage? Weren't you listening?"

I'd been staring, wide eyed at the ceiling for too long. Shadows stretched off the window sill nearly to the bed, and things were quiet. Too quiet.

Elías read in his chair by the door. He was unaffected, uninfected by my intrusive thoughts, still happy like the rest of the world that got by without me. That is, until I spoke up, interrupting the peace.

"Can I ask you a question?" I whined.

"You're supposed to be asleep," he cracked. I waited. "...Is this question about Mr. Evergreen?"

"Yes."

"Then no. Go to sleep." He groaned, dog-earring his page. "Alright, proceed."

"...As you know," I was careful. "The two of us have been... spending time together."

"Hmph."

"And I was just hoping to understand why he might..."

Elías bristled. "Is he pressuring you?"

"No!" I cried. "No," softer.

"Then what?"

"Um. Well. Feel cold?"

"Cold," he mulled. "Give me an example."

"Like, this afternoon. He and Sam returned from the cottage and I feel as though he was a different man. He was short and brutally so. Wandered off towards his chamber without even-" I sighed. "Without saying farewell or when I might hear from him."

"I see."

"Is it me? Am I obnoxious? Unworthy of his-?"

"Absolutely not." Elías was deadlocked. "Your worth is beyond constructs of value, you will not let anyone tell you less. And... As much as I'd sooner like to dissuade you from men who aren't your intended, I am a grown man, and I understand love is... complex. In this case, it will serve you to know instead, that men... our value comes from how well we provide. Our professions. Our seemingly shallower attributes. Mr. Evergreen just lost everything. I imagine he's struggling with the reality of that."

I could see he held onto something. "What? What else?"

He shrugged. "Just that. He doesn't come from money. Not like you. Everything he has had its cost. If he's feeling uneasy, and you truly love him? Your role is to reassure him."

"How do I do that?"

"Respect his space. Let him process, and when you're prompted, reassure him he is more than the material."

"How can I reassure him if he won't speak to me?"

"It's not like he's never going to speak to you again. Give it time."

"But-!"

"You were in the corridor with the Prince, correct? The man you'll be marrying in a month's time?"

I nodded, pouting.

"The man who employs him. Who lives in a castle, and owns what? Endless amounts of clothes and jewels?" he added.

"Those things don't matter to me," I spat.

"Because you've never had to want for them," he sang. "For the rest of us, they matter. They remain a clear indicator of where we stand in the world. If I were in a similar position, I'd fear a comparison between myself to the Crown, and I would react to that. For better or worse."

"But," I huffed.

"You're going to marry Sam," he said. "Believe me. He's well aware of that."

"That doesn't answer the question, Eli! How do I quell his insecurities if he won't talk to me?"

"If he takes too long, do what you always do," he laughed. "Talk at him. Don't give him the choice."

"Oh," I hummed. "Well that's actually. I could do that."

"I know you can," he teased.

"Would you escort me to-?"

"No," he scowled. "It's nearly midnight. Go to sleep."

When I opened my eyes, Elías was gone.

Half of his armor laid by his chair, discarded, and his book was face down in his seat. The moon was still outside, and the door to my room was ajar. If I listened closely, I could hear a faint fanfare of chaos shuffling about.

Closer to the men's corridor, someone nearly crashed into me, rushing by, squeaking down the hall with a pitcher full of ice. Another, with a stack of folded linen, and at the opening to one of the bedchambers; Sam. He stood anxiously, his nail in his mouth. He caught my apparition, losing the color from his face, and calling out to me.

"Love, go back to bed," he said.

"Why? What's happening?" I asked.

He frowned, but nothing more. 

I knew what he was saying, but I- My breathing quickened, and I pushed into the room, despite every person's protest.

Cyrus was laying in the four post bed. Had everyone who rushed around him not been furiously trying to work around me, I would have assumed he was dead. His skin was some shade of blue or grey, and he was soaked in sweat, moaning incoherently.

"A fever?" I muttered. "I-!"

Elías stood from the side of the mattress, reminding me to tread lightly, and towards the door. "It's under control, Princess."

"Under, but he-? Where is-?!" Every word sucked in an enormous feat of air.

"The doctor is there," he nodded beyond my shoulder. "You should-"

"Stop it!" I shoved Elías, silencing the room for a moment, but for too long. "I can help," I added, pleading with a maid. "I can help, I want to, I want to help."

My knight nodded and she handed me the cloth and basin of cold water, and I blinked rapidly, to contain my nerves.

Sam eyed me as I sat on the bed, and dabbed my swordsman's head, but I didn't care. I didn't care if he would be angry or hurt when he no doubt pieced together the meaning behind my shattered resolve. Why, until Cyrus recovered, I would not leave this room.

"We're trying to keep him comfortable until it breaks," the doctor said.

I nodded. "How long will that take? Morning?"

"Up to a week," he said.

"A week?" I cried. "You said a week to heal, what sort of-"

"Your Highness," Elías cut in, incisively.

The doctor looked between us, quietly.

"Ice," Cyrus muttered. Or maybe it was, "I see."

I wilted. "What is he talking about?"

"Your guess is as good as any." The doctor stood up to pack his things into their case. "He's been talking on and off since I arrived. Now." He turned back to Sam, "Alcohol, at least twice a day, poured into the wound. Don't rebandage him until I've had a chance to re-examine him. If he gets worse, fetch me immediately. But the slurring, the delirium, is quite normal for an infection. So is puss, and the smell. Keep his shirt open like that, to breathe."

"I thank you for getting here so quickly," the Prince said. His hand trembled as it met with the physician's.

"He's lucky," the doctor said. "Another day and I'd be in Lawrence." Then he bowed. "Your Highness."

"Svana," Sam hummed. "A moment?"

The hairs on the back of my neck stood, as I followed him into the hall. I kept my eye on the maid who'd taken my place, to make sure she actually tended to him, as Sam sighed, deeply.

"Don't feel obligated to stay," he said.

"...What?"

"To take care of my friend," he sang. "I can, or they can. You're not-"

"Cyrus is my friend," I scoffed. "How could I leave him to rot while I go and what? Sleep in my precious downy bed? I am offended that you think that is an acceptable role for me! How dare you assume my character! I should-"

"Thank you," he trampled. "For taking care of him." When he breathed again, he touched the corner of his eye, muttering, "Sorry. Sorry, I-"

"Are you crying?" I gawked.

"No." Sam coughed, shrinking his lips. "I'm just very tired."

I almost felt sorry for him. Actually I did. My mood shifted, and after some debate, I touched the Prince's arm to soothe him. He looked at me, a worn man, taking it a step further to hug me.

Behind him, Cyrus writhed. Elías was there to calm him, and I hesitated to run to him, now snared between my fiancé and his pending grief. With nothing to do or say, I waited for the embrace to end.

• • •

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