“What will?” I asked.
“Go,” he urged, looking impish.
And so I forced myself to stand and to make my way over the grass.
The boy looked surprised as I drew closer, then stood up, dusting off his homespun tunic. Reed pipes hung from a leather cord around his neck.
“The general’s daughter,” he said, and bowed. “Sometimes, when the leaves are thin, we can see the lights of your stronghold from here.”
“And sometimes I can hear music from my balcony. Were you the player?”
He blushed. He must have been green-blooded, because his cheeks and neck were abruptly suffused with that color. “If it pleased you, then I’d like to claim it was me.”
“And to what name ought I direct my praise?” Locke was right about one thing. It was easy. The boy was nice. But I didn’t understand what I was supposed to be doing.
“Edir,” he said. “But you can call me whatever you want if you will consent to dance with me.”
So we danced, his shy hand on my hip. Locke watched. The fiddler pranced around as he played. Revelers in rags, leaves in their hair, whirled and jumped.
I laughed.
This was just the sort of thing that Oriana would hate. She wouldn’t like me venturing out alone, my pockets empty of salt. She wouldn’t like me dancing, especially with Folk who were not courtiers. But despite that, despite the strangeness of the situation, I was having fun.
“I hope you didn’t get bored without me,” Locke interrupted, surprising me. I hadn’t noticed when he got up.
A moment later, he was pulling me into his arms for a kiss. Then he turned to Edir. “He looks amusing enough. Was he?”
Hurt flashed across the boy’s face. His mouth crumpled.
“Very amusing,” I said. Only after the words left my mouth did I realize how dismissive they sounded, like Nicasia or Prince Cardan himself. But for a moment it felt good to be awful, like looking down on the world from some great height.
“I will take my leave,” Edir said, drawing himself up. “Perhaps some night you will cast open your window and hear my song and recall tonight.” He went back to his friends and I felt terrible for hurting him.
“He will want you all the more for not getting you,” Locke whispered in my ear, pressing his lips against my throat.
“I don’t care,” I said. “I’m going home.”
“I will escort you,” he said. “If you like.”