The Kiss of Deception (The Remnant Chronicles #1) - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,44

practice.”

I nodded. “I promise.”

“Hurry, then, before it gets dark.”

We gathered up the blanket and basket, and he kissed my cheek. “You’re happy with your new life here?”

“I could only be happier if you, Bryn, and Regan were here with me.”

“Patience, Lia. We’ll figure out something. Here, take this,” he said, shoving the basket into my hands. “A little morsel in the bottom to tide you over. I’ll stop in again before I leave on patrol. Stay safe until then.”

I nodded, mulling over the realization that he had so many responsibilities now—husband, father, soldier—and ultimately heir to the throne. He shouldn’t have to fit worries of me in there too, but I was glad he did. “Give Greta my love and glad tidings.”

“I will.” He turned to leave, but I blurted out another question, unable to let him go.

“Walther, when was it that you knew you loved Greta?”

The look that always descended on him when he spoke of Greta settled over him like a silken cloud. He sighed. “I knew the minute I laid eyes on her.”

My face must have betrayed my disappointment. He reached out and pinched my chin. “I know the arranged marriage planted seeds of doubt for you, but someone will come along, someone worthy of you. And you’ll know it the minute you meet him.”

Again, it wasn’t the answer I hoped for, but I nodded and then thought of Pauline and her worries. “Walther, I promise this is my last question, but have you any news of Mikael?”

“Mikael?”

“He’s in the Guard. He was on patrol. A young blond fellow. He should have been back by now.”

I watched him search his memory, shaking his head. “I don’t know any—”

I added more scattered details that Pauline had given me about him, including a silly red cravat that he sometimes wore when off duty. Walther’s gaze shot up at me. “Mikael. Of course. I know who he is.” His brows drew together in a rare menacing way, darkening his whole face. “You aren’t involved with him, are you?”

“No, of course not, but—”

“Good. Steer clear of his sort. His platoon’s been back for two weeks. Last I saw of him, he was at the pub, fuller than a tick, with a maid on each knee. That scoundrel’s got a sugared tongue and a swooning girl in every town from here to Civica—and he’s known to brag about it.”

I gaped at him, unable to speak.

He grimaced. “Oh, good gods, if it’s not you, it’s Pauline. She had eyes for him?”

I nodded.

“Then so much the better that she’s free of him now and here with you. He’s nothing but trouble. Make sure she stays away from him.”

“Are you certain, Walther? Mikael?”

“He boasts about his conquests and the broken hearts he’s left behind as if they’re medals pinned on his chest. I’m certain.”

He said his hurried good-byes with a mindful eye to the growing darkness, but I left mostly in a daze, hardly remembering the steps that took me back to the cottage.

She’s free of him now.

No, not now. Not ever.

What would I tell her? It would be easier if Mikael were dead.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

KADEN

So.

Our princess has a lover.

When I followed her into the forest, I thought I was finally going to get what I needed—time alone with her. But the farther she went, the more curious I became. Where could she possibly be going? My mind conjured a lot of possibilities but never conceived of the one that took me by surprise.

I watched her fly into his arms, kissing him, holding him like she’d never let go. The young man was obviously just as happy to see her. They disappeared into the ruins, still tangled in each other’s arms. What happened from there wasn’t hard for me to imagine.

All along, that was what drove her.

A lover.

That was why she ran from the marriage. I didn’t know why I should feel sick. Maybe it was the way she had looked into my eyes this morning. The way she lingered. The blush on her cheeks. It did something to me. Something I liked. Something that made me think maybe things could still be different. I thought about it all day as I rode to Luiseveque to leave a message. And then all the way back again, even though I tried to banish her from my thoughts. Maybe things could be different. Evidently not.

It felt like I had been punched in the gut—a feeling I wasn’t accustomed to. I usually guarded myself well in that regard. Wounds