I was riding several horses back from the royals, but I could still clearly see the straight backs of the two princes at the front of the columns. I had spent my last two days at Medellan altering more outfits for them, and it brought me pleasure to see them looking both elegant and comfortable, as I had intended. That was my true role and what I should be doing for them on this Tour.
The two brothers looked remarkably similar, both with the golden skin, dark hair, and brown eyes that set most Lanoverians apart from our pale-skinned northern neighbors. They both had the muscles and bearings of warriors—talk in the capital claimed they were diligent at their weapons’ training—but Frederic was taller and broader shouldered than his wiry brother. Regarding them closely, I wasn’t entirely satisfied with the sit of their waistcoats and shirts across their shoulders. They had both abandoned their jackets given the warmth of the day, but I suspected those items would have the same problem. Either their muscles had changed since the garments had originally been made, or their tailor didn’t have the same eye for detail as I did. I resolved to have an actual fitting while we were on the islands.
Which brought my mind racing back to Catalie. Perhaps if I looked exactly as a Lanoverian should, like the royal family, I would have had fewer problems on the island. But my skin and hair were both a shade too pale, as if a northern ancestor had included enough honey to turn what should have been the darkest brown hair to warm caramel. The same ancestor may have been responsible for the dark green of my eyes, but they couldn’t claim credit for their slight slant which suggested another ancestor from among the nomadic desert traders. Even my face marked me an outsider without a home or a people.
My worries consumed me all the way to the nearest harbor. But when the first glitter of the distant water appeared, I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. I inhaled deeply, letting the salt in the air relax the tension across my shoulders. I might not miss the people of the islands, but I surprised myself by the deep sense of joy that the coast itself gave me. I had liked living in the lap of the ocean—I had once imagined I might be happy there forever.
The process of loading our large contingent of nobility, commoners, servants, and guards onto the royal yacht went far more smoothly than I had anticipated. Obviously I hadn’t been giving the steward enough credit. Without unexpected large-scale disasters, it seemed he ran a tight ship. I smiled internally at the unintended pun.
The sailors welcomed us with subdued questions about Medellan but regained most of their cheer at our positive comments about the state in which we had left them. Before I would have thought possible, the captain was calling that it was time to catch the tide, and the buoyancy beneath my feet turned into the true swell of waves. I had registered my preference for a hammock over a bunk with one of the steward’s assistants but had otherwise ignored the world below decks. Instead I found a spot tucked away on deck where I was out of the way but still able to see everything that was going on.
Leaning against the railing, I peered down at the foam which curled around the wooden sides of the ship. I watched the place where the broken water from our passage through the waves smoothed out to flow past in deep swells like the smoothest satin. I wished I could lean over far enough to dip my hand into the cool water.
Several of the older nobles clutched their hands to their mouths and weakly staggered toward the ladder below decks. I considered calling out to stop them, since they would be far better off up on deck, but I held back. The captain would advise them, it wasn’t my place to do so. At least I felt no similar wave of nausea. I had never had even a hint of seasickness, regardless of the size of the waves.
The sun beat down on me, but I didn’t mind. Not when a pleasant breeze blew occasional spray into my face. The seabirds cried loudly, a perfect counterpoint to the slap of the waves against the hull. Could the moment be more perfect? A sleek gray body arced out of the water before slipping back out of sight. Another followed and another, their fins pointing to the sky, and their powerful tails propelling them upward.
A soft sigh of pleasure escaped. Apparently it could.
“I see I’m not the only one who loves the ocean,” said a voice behind me.
I turned my head, but even the sight of the crown prince wasn’t enough to make me break the perfect moment with words. I remained in place, inviting him with a gesture of my head to take the place beside me.
He stepped up to join me, standing straight, his hands placed lightly on the railing. For a long moment of beautiful silence we watched the pod of dolphins frolic in our bow wave.
“I’ve always liked the sea,” he said after some time, breaking our silence. “It’s so constant and unchanging.”
“Unchanging?” I thought of the sea as ever-changing. Each day a slightly different mood.
He gave me a rare smile. “It roars or whispers, but in the end, it remains here, unchanged. That’s what I meant.”
“Oh.” I thought about it. I could see what he meant. The storms that raged across it always faded, and the sea remained behind as it had been before.
“It gives me comfort, I suppose.” Another smile flashed across his face. “That I’m not nearly as important as I sometimes feel. That Lanover will still be here after I am long gone.” He paused and eyed me sideways. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I think I must be feeling giddy from being on a ship again. It’s been too long.”
I hid a smile at the idea of this serious prince being giddy about anything.
His eyes watched me, and I wondered if he could read the thought on my face despite my effort to hide it.
“Or maybe it’s just you,” he said, unexpectedly. “You’re easy to talk to, Evie.”
“I am?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You sound surprised.”
I bit my lip. “You have honored me with a confidence, so I will give you one in return. You are far more selfless than me. While you enjoy being reminded of your lack of importance, I have always longed to be more significant than I am.”
I flushed immediately. What had possessed me to say such a thing? What was it about this man that made me throw caution to the wind and speak of such things? I had long ago learned to keep my emotions on a surface level—it was how I survived—so why was I acknowledging things to him that I didn’t even like to acknowledge to myself?
Frederic’s face showed surprise, although his voice was carefully level. “I would not have picked you as a person of great ambition. Although I suppose I should consider the remarkable things you have already achieved with your dressmaking in the short time you’ve been in the capital.” He gave me a small half bow, but a shutter had dropped across his emotions, despite the compliment.
“Oh no,” I rushed to say. “Not ambition. I don’t want power, or to be important to the kingdom.” I realized my mistake as soon as the words were out of my mouth, as soon as I saw the curiosity return to his face. My eagerness to reassure him had led me to reveal more of the truth than I had intended.
“One person would be enough for me,” I finished in a whisper. “I just want to be important to one person.” I looked away, humiliated, and not wanting him to see the tears swimming in my eyes.
Frederic said nothing, and I appreciated the opportunity to gather my emotions back under control. Did he sense my need for silence? Celine would have rushed to fill the void with reassurances, but I preferred Frederic’s restraint, even if in truth it was merely that he had no reassurances to give.
When I drew a deep breath and gave a tremulous smile—although it was aimed at the dolphins and not the man beside me—he finally spoke. “We all deserve that, I think. It is a worthy ambition.”
I was startled into looking up and meeting his eyes, and something passed between us that I couldn’t name. His eyes seemed to truly see me, and an unfamiliar warmth settled somewhere in the vicinity of my heart.