The combination of the sun in my eyes, and the gentle knocking at the door woke me. Which would have been a pleasant experience if not for the warm arm strung over my body. The warm arm of the man who wasn't my fiancé, strung over my body, instead of somewhere else, say his own bed!

"Cyrus!" I panicked, rolling within the sheets. "Cyrus, love!" I sang again, "My Sword, we fell asleep!" I rocked him hurriedly. "Willem!"

Finally his eyes were open, and his felt the urgency I did. "What time is it?"

"Svana? Are you alright?" Josie asked.

"Fuck," Cyrus spat.

I gasped, "Language!"

"Sorry," he got up, digging around through the mess of blankets and pillows we'd created. "Fuck."

"I hear noises, are you hurt?"

"Uhh," I scurried to the door, pulling one of the blankets around my body. "Just a minute!"

"She cannot find me here," he worried.

"Not a lot of options, dear Cyrus." Finally, I held the knob, ready, speaking somewhat louder. "Are you alone?" I asked.

"Am I alone?" she said.

"Yes."

"Svana," she paused. "This doesn't feel right, I'm getting Daniel!"

"Or," I opened the door and grabbed her, yanking her into the room. The lock went right back into place, and Josie shrieked, catching sight of the half naked man near the foot of my bed. "We could leave Daniel out of the dance."

She covered her mouth, her horror twisting into an innocent giggle, and after a long look at Cyrus fastening his pants, I slapped her arm.

"Jocelyn!"

She averted her face, struggling to keep it straight.

"Not a word," I spat.

"Mm," she cleared her throat, then thought to move on to helping us find our things. She handed me the first layer. "I see you enjoyed the night."

"My sincerest apologies, Miss Josie," Cyrus said, pulling on his shirt. "You should not have to see me like this."

"You'll hear no complaints from me," she grinned. "I'm sure Miss Svana feels quite similar."

"Josie," I whispered.

"Sorry," she laughed.

I took a deep breath. "I need you to make sure Mr. Evergreen gets out of this room without notice."

"Of course," she said.

"It is incredibly important," I stressed.

"Oh, I am aware," she snickered.

"Cyrus," I held the fabric tighter.

He smiled, slinking towards me, his shoes and remaining clothes in one hand, the other clipping my bottom lip. He met me with a sweet kiss. "I'll see you soon," he said. "Don't worry. I can be very stealthy. Josie and I will make it out of here fine."

I rolled my eyes, annoyed how charming I found him. I failed to resist deepening the farewell. When we parted, the corner of his mouth went up, and he waited by the door for my maid.

"Ready?"

Saturday and Sunday, all of Monday, again on Tuesday, and well into the coming days, Cyrus and I found every spare moment in each other's wake. We would laugh, and play silly games, try to spook the other by hiding around trees and bushes, chase each other! And when Willoughby or Josie; whoever was around, would look the other way for too long, we touched each other. Kissed each other, and lost ourselves in each other all the same.

There was a mythical ambience to being with him, a warmth that my heart could only feel with his presence. I longed for the way it would accelerate at first sight of him every morning, and every night when he crawled into my bed. It was so all-consuming that on occasion, I did not wait for our friends to turn or find distraction.

The first time I kissed Mr. Evergreen in front of Willoughby, the poor knight nearly choked on his apple.

We had set up another picnic, among the pink field of flowers Cyrus had ridden us through our first ride, and because I could not dispel the hindsight of how perfect that night had been- how he had danced with me, how kind he had been; I fawned in the afterglow.

"Things have progressed, I see," my Knight remarked.

Cyrus adjusted, whispering in my ear. "Maybe we should rein it back?" he said.

"Nonsense," I told him. "Daniel doesn't care. Tell Mr. Evergreen you don't care."

"I don't," Willoughby said. "I'm happy to see you happy."

"We are very happy, aren't we?" I turned to my Sword, proudly.

I followed Wiloughby's worried eye towards Josie, who was picking roses in the pasture.

"Everything alright?" I asked.

"Hmm?" he sighed. "Yes, of course. Why?"

"You're... staring longingly at Jocelyn?"

"Am I?" He flustered. "How embarrassing. I should fetch us more wine," he said, standing.

"Daniel?"

"Leave him alone," Cyrus cracked. "Don't go meddling."

But I resisted, narrowing my brow. "Do you like Miss Josie?"

"Svana," Cyrus cut in.

"Of course I do," Willoughby sang. "She's lovely."

"No, I mean. Do you like her. Like I like Cyrus."

"I," he stumbled.

"You don't have to answer her. She's nosy," Cyrus replied. "Stop being nosy, Swan."

"She likes you," I confessed.

Immediately, he went back, watching her. "I know."

"You could go and kiss her," I suggested. "She would like that."

"She might," Willoughby shrugged. "Lord knows I would."

"Then why-?"

"Because he can't marry her," Cyrus inserted himself. He snaked his hand into mine and pulled me closer to wrap his arms around my back. "And Ser Willoughby is a gentleman."

"What sort of load of-" I started.

"No," Willoughby sighed. "He's right."

"What?" I whined. "You can't marry her? That's it? I told her to tell you I would talk to my father."

"It isn't a guarantee," he said. "And I can't bring myself to relish in her beauty if I cannot offer her my hand in return."

There was a thick, obvious silence.

My gut sank the moment I met Cyrus' face, and I worried he felt much the same, so I scrambled to de-rationalize the sentiment. "Not every woman cares about that," I cried. "Josie likes you. She told me."

"She told me she wanted to be married one day; a mother. I can't offer her that stability based on the idea that your father, who hates me you'll remember, may or may not bend to his daughter's good word."

"I will approve it, as soon as I am Queen," I reasoned.

"Then I will make her an offer, when that day comes, but not before."

Cyrus patted his shoulder; a kind nod. "I see you," he said.

"I see horse shit," I scoffed. "A lovely girl, a pretty girl, a nice girl likes you. She wants to be with you, asks me why I think you haven't kissed her. Worries you have a lover, and I have to tell her it's because you care too deeply for her to let her make her own decision?"

Willoughby frowned. "The man is the head of the house, he must protect his wife."

"But she isn't your wife, is she? She's not your anything."

"Svana," Cyrus' voice was hard. "Apologize."

"Why? She's not," I said.

"You convict him for being chivalrous?" My Sword asked.

"Cyrus," Willoughby sighed. "It's fine."

"It's not fine," he said. "The weather is fine, Svana is being rude."

I gasped.

"I'm sorry," he added.

But I was angry, and embarrassed, scrambling to my feet as he called after me.

Ice stopped, spent from how fast I'd driven her back into the barn. It wasn't long before Cyrus arrived and dismounted, fuming. I could feel his mood from the far end of the stables.

"I know you did not just storm away when there are bandits about!" he snapped. "You respect me so little as to disallow me your escort?!"

I took a step back, and he melted. Back into the man he usually was, back into my calm, sweet man.

"What the Hell was that?" I barked.

"You," he started. "You cannot be so reckless. Do you know how I would feel if you got hurt?"

"How do you feel now? You just hurt me, after all!" I groaned. "Reprimanding me in front of my knight. Of our friends?"

"And you have nothing to say for your careless words?"

"I might have, had you given me a chance. Explained to me why wanting my friends to be together was so wrong?"

"It," he sighed. "It had nothing to do with them. Not really. Surely you know that."

"What are you talking about?" I whined. "Tell me plainly, because I am obviously lost on the deeper meaning here."

He waited. Crossing his arms.

"Cyrus," I hummed. "Please."

"...'She's not your wife,' 'she's not your anything.' Does that sound familiar to you?"

"But we're not- we're different," I told him.

"Are we? How?"

"Because," I started. "You're not my anything-"

"Excellent-!'

"-You're my everything," I finished. He didn't reply and I whimpered under my breath. "You're my everything."

"I'm sorry. I'm upset. I saw Sam yesterday," he said, casting his eyes to the ground.

"Yesterday was Wednesday, that makes sense. I don't see why-?"

"He told me he ended things with Agatha."

"...What?"

"Nine years, and he's ended them. For you."

His muscles tensed under my hand as I touched his chest. "That doesn't mean-"

"You're marrying him. In two weeks," he said. "It was one thing when he was disinterested in you; his focus on another woman. But now-"

"Just because he's left Agatha does not mean he is interested in me, he-"

"He asked me how to speak to you," he said.

"How to speak to me?" I hissed.

"How to apologize again. How to tell you that he has seen the light, that you are it."

"I hope you told him I despise him."

"No, you don't," he sighed.

"Don't tell me how I feel," I told him. "I know my heart."

"I just-"

"I'm sorry for your friend, but I don't. I will never love him. You can promise him that on my behalf."

"You don't know what the future holds. You will be married. You will have sex. You will spend all your time with him now that he has his sights on you, and Sam. Sam is a sort. He will not want you to spend your days with me. He will-"

"I don't love him," I said sternly.

"You may in time," he said.

"No," I fought. "I could never."

"Svana." Cyrus' face darkened.

"I don't love him. I will never love him. I can't. I," I stepped closer, taking his hand and placing it over my heart.

"You will bear his children, his name, and I- I'm not sure I can watch that."

"What are you saying?" I cried.

"I'm saying..."

In his hesitation, I leapt. "I love you," I said. "I love you." When he didn't say it back, my teeth bit, but I went on. "I love you."

"You love the idea of me. Your Knight. Your Sword. Your Willem."

"That's not true," I growled.

"There's likely some guilt on how things played out when we were-"

"A fool would finish that sentence!" I sang. "I was in love with you when you were Cyrus, and you know it."

He searched my face.

"And I will not bear Sam's children. Nor will I have sex with him. Not willingly. I don't care if we are wed or not. I will find a way out of it. We will."

"We can't."

"Run away with me," I begged. "Leave. You've disappeared before. Vanish again! With me."

"It is your duty to produce an heir, and you, yourself, confessed how important duty is to who you are. And I should rob you of that?"

"Leaving me robs me of much more, I assure you."

He made an angry, frustrated sound, turning from me. "I can't see you with him," he said.

My mouth bent. "Why?"

"You know why."

"I don't know anything because you won't say it."

"There's no point!"

"Say it!" I demanded, "Tell me," begging. "Tell me so I don't have to guess if you feel this or if I'm crazy!"

"If I say it, it's real," he muttered.

"It's already real," I said. "We're real. Tell me."

"I can't see you with him. Because... because I love you."

I shut my eyes, releasing a surge of happy tears. "I love you, Willem," I whined. "There is nothing I would not do for you."

"Or I, you."

"We can make this work," I cried.

He wasn't as sure, still shaking his head. "He asked me to stand as his witness. His best man."

"I..."

Nothing verbal would ever excuse that agony of standing next to somebody who married your love. I scrunched my face, collecting his and I kissed him, passionately, tugging at his belt.

"We're in the stables," he muttered past my lips. "You don't have to do this."

"I don't care," I said. "I want you. Here. Right now."

My back met the wall as he swept me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. He forced up my skirt, madly groping and caressing my thighs; a savage of such vigor, he left me breathless.

I gasped as his his crotch pressed hard into mine, and jumped when a sudden, intrusive voice cut through the moment.

"Well this is..." Sam started, staring from the door. "This is something."

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