as I took my own bite.
I sat up and stared around the lake and its slight arch. Behind us sat the palace, and ahead of us looked like briars on the shore of another wood. There were willows all to the right, but on the left there was a stone archway and a narrow tunnel leading to more water.
"Can we explore?" I asked, pointing in the tunnel's direction.
"Of course!"
I fed Cosmo as he rowed, trying not to shy away from his stare as he licked the ends of my fingers, cleaning away crumbs or dripping juice. He paused his rowing once to catch my hand, lifting it to his mouth and licking a rivulet of strawberry juice from my palm to the tip of my thumb, sucking the digit and swirling his tongue around the tip. My breath caught as Hunger surged inside of me, biting and begging for more touch.
"Your pupils get very wide when it hits," Cosmo murmured, releasing my hand and returning to his work of rowing.
I grinned. "Are you experimenting?"
"Observing. How did it happen with Owen first? You were in the stables…kissing?"
“No, I'd only just arrived and Owen was talking to my horse," I said. Cosmo laughed, and I smiled at the memory. "He was just being…Owen. You know, sweet and funny, saying nice things to a horse because Owen is the kind of person who would think to do so. He's so…good. And then it hit, although I didn't know what it was at first. I just needed him."
Cosmo's smile was wide, shining, although I was a little bit distracted by the strain of his arms working in smooth rotations.
"What are you thinking?" I asked.
"That your Hunger isn't born out of lust. It comes from affection," Cosmo said. "Or at least in part."
We were moving into the tunnel now, my eyes adjusting slowly to the dark. "I suppose that's true. Does it matter?"
"I don't know. I just think it's sweet," Cosmo admitted. The water swished as the oars cut through. "It makes sense that you're attracted to Owen's goodness, you have so much yourself."
"I—"
"Don't object. Think of the position that you're in, the privilege that you were born with. Not even your own people expect you to do anything for them, they're so used to the way things have been. You have the Hunger. You could turn back to the capital now and return to the way things were."
"No, I couldn't," I said, twisting to watch as we emerged onto a larger pond. The tunnel had been for a bridge, probably to the woods surrounded by briars. We were on the western side of the palace now, closer to the stables.
"You wouldn't," Cosmo corrected, and when I turned back to him, I finally saw the softness of his expression. "Owen has easier burdens than you, but I suppose that hasn't stopped others in his place from being bitter or cruel."
"I might be a little bitter," I said.
"I won't tell anyone," Cosmo said. He crossed the oars for a rest, and I stretched up as he bent down, lifting my face to his for his kiss. It was gentle, lingering and tempting, and Cosmo hovered there in place for a long moment. "Don't be hard on yourself, Bryony. You're making changes."
"In a boat, on a lake, behind my palace?" I asked, grinning wryly.
Cosmo chuckled and sat up straight. "When does Griffin start hunting?"
"Today."
"Then, yes. In a boat, on a lake, behind your palace. What have I done today with my sketches?" Cosmo shrugged and picked up the oars.
"Art has value. It can educate, or bring joy, or illuminate a new audience to experiences or cultures they never imagined," I said.
Cosmo grinned, steering us over into a large pool of lily pads missing their blooms. "Great art can. And my art can be beautiful, which might bring someone joy. I'm not sure I've succeeded more than that yet."
"But you weren't born with a pencil and chisel attached to your hands, so you must continue to pick them up because you love the work," I teased.
"I do love it. That must be why. For the last year or so, I've wondered if I was only continuing because it's all I know. Not that I'm uninspired. Only that my work seems to be solely for aesthetics."
"I like aesthetics," I said, taking a berry for myself and eyeing the pond. There was an old crippled oak tree on the bank and a flock of the geese we'd been warned about