We stay like that for a long moment.
“Did Locke threaten you?” she asks softly. “It was so odd that he came here looking for you, and then you had such a weird expression when I walked into the stables.”
“No, nothing bad,” I tell her. “I don’t know exactly what he came for, but he kissed my hand. It was nice, like out of a storybook.”
“Nice things don’t happen in storybooks,” Taryn says. “Or when they do happen, something bad happens next. Because otherwise the story would be boring, and no one would read it.”
It’s my turn to sigh. “I know it’s stupid, thinking well of one of Cardan’s friends, but he really did help me. He stood up to Cardan. But I’d rather talk about you. There’s someone, isn’t there? When you said you were going to fall in love, you were talking about someone in particular.”
Not that I’d be the first to green gown her.
“There’s a boy,” she says slowly. “He’s going to declare himself at Prince Dain’s coronation. He’s going to ask for my hand from Madoc, and then everything is going to change for me.”
I think of her weeping, standing beside Cardan. I think of how angry she’s been that I am feuding with him. I think of that, and a cold and terrible dread creeps over me. “Who?” I demand.
Please not Cardan. Anyone but Cardan.
“I promised not to tell anyone,” she says. “Even you.”
“Our promises don’t matter,” I say, thinking of Prince Dain’s geas still freezing my tongue, of how little any of them trust us. “No one expects us to have any honor. Everyone knows we lie.”
She gives me a stern, disapproving look. “It’s a faerie prohibition. If I break it, he’ll know. I need to show him I can live like one of the Folk.”
“Okay,” I say slowly.
“Be happy for me,” she says, and I feel cut to the quick. She has found her place in Faerie, and I guess I have found mine. But I can’t help worrying.
“Just tell me something about him. Tell me that he is kind. Tell me that you love him and that he’s promised to be good to you. Tell me.”
“He’s a faerie,” she says. “They don’t love the way we do. And I think you would like him—there, that’s something.”
That doesn’t sound like Cardan, whom I despise. But I am not sure I find her answer reassuring, either.
What does it mean, I would like him? Does that mean we’ve never met? What does it mean that he doesn’t love the way we do?
“I am happy for you. Honest,” I say, although I am more worried than anything. “This is exciting. When Oriana’s dressmaker comes, you’re going to have to make sure you get an extra-pretty gown.”