“Do you think it’s tomorrow yet?” I shook my head. “You know what I mean.”
Annika smiled. “I do think it’s tomorrow yet. It’s at least after midnight, don’t you think?”
I sighed, feeling mournful. “Then it’s Matraleit.”
“Matraleit?”
“A holiday. For my people.”
“Oh.” Annika looked away, almost seeming guilty. “What does it celebrate?”
“The first wedding,” I said with a sad smile. “The story goes that our people come from the first man and woman to walk the earth. They came to be in separate places and wandered alone across the land. When they found each other, there was no fear, no trepidation. They were immediately in love and married each other on the dome of a rock so perfect and round, it looked like a stone sun rising from the ground. All our people come from them.”
“How do you celebrate?” she asked.
I sighed, thinking of Blythe’s bracelet. “It’s all about the knotting together of love and families—about making ties. So people make bracelets and leave them for the person they love. And they have to be woven,” I said, turning to emphasize the point. “If it’s carved from wood or just a single loop, it’s bad luck. If you ever get a bracelet on Matraleit and it’s not woven, you drop it right away!”
She laughed. “Got it. What else?” She pulled her knees in and rested her arms on them, looking at me with genuine curiosity.
I found myself smiling as I went on. “There are specific foods we eat. And there’s a dance,” I began. “A special one for couples.”
“Really?”
I nodded, still smiling. “They say we used to go back to the rock—the one where they met—and couples would do the dance around the stone, remembering the first couple and looking to the future.”
“That’s really beautiful,” she said wistfully. I watched as she looked around the cave. “Seeing as I’m likely to kill you,” she started in a very cheerful voice.
I laughed outright at her jovial tone. “Go on, go on. You’re going to kill me, and . . . ?”
“Perhaps you should celebrate it one last time. If I promise to never show it to anyone, will you teach me this dance?”
This wasn’t how I had pictured spending our time, but I supposed there wasn’t anything better to do.
“Sure.” I pushed myself off the floor and brushed the dirt from my pants. Annika joined me on the other side of the fire. “We stand in front of each other and bow.”
“If this is just a clever trick to get me to bow to you, I’ll kill you on the spot,” she warned.
“No, no,” I promised with a smile. “It’s real. Then you cup your right hand by your partner’s ear.” I moved my hand to the side of her head, and she put hers by mine. We were so close. It would be so easy to end her life, be rid of her. I just wasn’t ready to do it. “Very good. Now you take three steps in a circle to your left. All right, now switch hands and go back the other way.”
“Am I doing it right?” she asked, eyes on mine. There was something so trusting in them.
“Yes. Now, step apart so the bend in your wrist hits mine. Good. Now it’s more walking in circles.”
“I’m getting dizzy.”
“That’s the point. It’s supposed to be about tying a knot, binding together, remember? Once you’re here, you pull the other hand across so our arms are entwined. Just like that. And then I spin you around to undo it.”
I walked through the steps a few times, and I was surprised she seemed so comfortable touching me. She didn’t flinch at my nearness or comment on my weathered hands. She simply held on to me as I moved her around.
“Good,” I instructed. “Dum da da da dum, then turn, dum da da da dum, and step.”
I watched as she quickly caught on, smiling as she moved through the dance, even when I went faster and faster. No wonder she could move so nimbly with a sword.
We went on for a moment until she missed a turn and landed squarely on my foot.
“Ow!” I cried, bending over.
“Sorry!” she replied with a laugh.
And it was all so innocent, so ridiculous in the light of our situation, that I laughed, too. I laughed in a way I hadn’t in years, from my stomach and with my eyes pinched tight. I laughed because no one else would know. I laughed because, in this cave, I felt free.
When I stood up, wiping the tears from my eyes, I found Annika there, looking as if the stars had fallen.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing . . . I thought I heard something. Never mind.”
I nodded. Her face was expectant, hopeful.
“Well, except for the ending, you did an excellent job,” I told her.
She blushed. “You’re a good teacher.” She stepped away and went back to the fire.
In the quiet, I considered so many things. Someone knew. Someone knew the depth of my pain, the heights of my ache, and the breadth of my regret. And even though so much of it was tied up in a moment that shattered Annika’s world, she didn’t seem to be judging me for it. At least, not any more than she already had.
I looked down at her. She was serene as she ran a finger through the dirt on the cave floor, as if she were finding a way to make art out of nothing. She didn’t seem nervous that I was so close to her. And this was another frightening thing for me: to be close to someone so quietly and not feel completely ill at ease.
We settled into a comfortable silence, occasionally stoking the fire. I kept wondering what was going through her head. Eventually, she sighed, reaching down into the bag on her belt.
“I give up,” she said, pulling out something that looked like a round, hard piece of bread. Very carefully, she pushed on it with her fingers until it snapped in half. She held one of the pieces out for me. “I had one back in Kadier, so let me warn you: it’s terrible. Enjoy.”
I chuckled, flipping the biscuit over in my hand, and took a bite. “Ugh! It’s so dry,” I mumbled around a bite.
She laughed. “I know. I assume they’re made to last a while, but I think dirt might be more appealing.” She shook her head. “I tried so hard to be prepared for anything, but I didn’t know my father was planning an attack until we were at sea.”
“He didn’t tell you?”
Annika gestured to her soiled white gown. “No.”
How little did the man trust her?
I cleared my throat. “Well, growing up as I did, you learn to be ready for everything, so I wasn’t surprised by your ships at all,” I lied.
Annika held my gaze. There were words in this stare, but I didn’t know what they were. I tried to guess at what she was saying, tried to decode every syllable of her silence. Something about it was beyond me, past what I could understand.
“What?” I finally asked.
She shook her head.
I cleared my throat.
“Who taught you about constellations?” she asked, seeming desperate for a change of direction. She popped the last bite of the hard biscuit into her mouth and wiped her hands together quickly.
“My father. He oversaw that and what little I know of philosophy and religion. Mother focused on my handwriting and music.” I shrugged. “I don’t have much use for any of that anymore.”
“When did you stop?”
I thought for a moment. “You promise one of us will die, right?”
“Yes!” she replied, her eyes more devilishly playful than I’d thought a princess’s could be.
I chuckled. “Fine.”
I turned to face her, and she moved to face me, too. Our knees were millimeters apart. “Everything stopped when Kawan found us.”
A little line knit together across her forehead. “Found you?”
I took my last bite, looked at the fire, and turned back to her. “Your people have never heard of us, right?”
She shook her head. “I’ve always been told that there were six clans, that they were united under ours, and that we were the ones who led the war against Kialand. When we won, we gave our new country a new name to unify us all, and we have been prosperous and peaceful ever since.”
“We truly have been erased,” I sighed. “The Dahrainian people were scattered for generations. Kawan had been following rumors and names, trying to unify as many of our descendants as he could. I didn’t know it, but my father’s surname was one of few notable ones in our history. Kawan was thrilled to find us.
“Kawan was also the one who discovered Vosino Castle. It had been abandoned for ages; I still remember the smell when we moved in. We started training, planning to one day take back what was ours. My father would tell me when he put me to bed that, one day, I would rest my head where our people always had.” I swallowed, looking at the ground. “As it is, I haven’t even seen it.”
I was quiet for a moment, feeling the gravity of that ache. Clearing my throat, I went back to my story. “After a year or so, a few people trickled in, looking for somewhere new to settle. Several bad seasons drove even more to test out the unclaimed land, only to find that it had actually been claimed by us. The hungry, uneducated . . . people no one seemed to miss. We took them in. We fed them, clothed them, taught them. Most of our army is made up of people who were cast off by their own country.”
She considered this. “I like the idea of taking in people who feel like they have no home. If your final goal wasn’t to move into my house, I’d admire it.”
I found I couldn’t reply. I changed the subject. “What about you? Who taught you about the stars?”
“Oh. I did,” she admitted with a smile. “I’ve spent a lot of time in our library, teaching myself the things I really want to know. That’s how I learned the names of the stars. And the only reason I knew how to use a flint. And that’s how I started using a sword, but Escalus found out about it and took over that instruction.” She looked away for a moment, seeming embarrassed. “Then I accidentally cut him one time. My father found out, and he put an end to that.”
I smiled. “Except you didn’t stop.”
She shook her head, still smiling. “Escalus works with me a few times a week, and I keep my sword hidden under my bed, tucked on pegs I placed in the frame myself.”
Every word from her was like rubbing your eyes after a long night and watching the world come into focus. “You are the most bizarre princess I’ve ever come across.”
She laughed. “Do you have more than one in your acquaintance?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I’ve never heard of another who denies direct orders, studies what she wants, and then, just for fun, can also pick locks.”
“Ah. I have to credit Rhett for that skill.”
For reasons I couldn’t name, my smile vanished. “Who’s Rhett?”
“He’s the librarian. But I knew him back when he started as a stable hand. My mother wanted me to have a wide range of friends, which is probably why I feel like Noemi is more a sister than a servant. Anyway, Rhett taught me a lot. I feel responsible for him.”
She made a face as if she’d just realized something.
“Are you two close?”
She nodded. “In a way. It’s like . . . you, you’re in a position where people might not want to be near you because they’ve made an assumption about you. But for me, everyone wants to be close because of their assumptions. Rhett doesn’t really pay attention to any of that.”
That made sense. If everyone wanted to be close because of a crown, of course she would have feelings for someone who wanted her despite it.
“Do you think that water’s safe?” she asked, pointing to the rain.
“Moving water should be fine to drink.”
“Good.” She hopped up, walking over to the edge of the cave. Then she looked over her shoulder, asking a question that had the ring of a command. “You coming?”
She really was a royal, wasn’t she? “Yes, Your Highness.”
She stood with her hands cupped, the force of the rain pushing them down as she tried to scoop up the water. I put my own hands out, but the rain was so very heavy it even moved mine.
“Here,” I said, placing mine beneath hers. It was just enough to hold her hands steady and let them fill. She was still for a moment, looking at our hands together. Hers were all but swallowed by mine. She eventually placed her lips to the water and slurped it up in the most wonderfully unladylike manner. When she was done, she let her hands get wet again so she could wipe them down her face.
“How do I look?” she asked.
Hopeful. Messy. Even more beautiful than your mother.
“About the same.”
She smirked and shrugged. When she was done, she wordlessly put her hands beneath mine, pushing them out into the rain so I could get a drink for myself. She was not that strong, but our hands together did more than they could apart. It was strange to be so casually touched, but for the first time, I found myself not bothered. In fact, it was nice.
Annika pulled our hands back inside, and I drank and felt so much better. I followed her lead and ran a wet hand down my face.
She wasn’t paying attention to me anymore; she was walking back to the fire, ready to warm her hands. She took a few steps and then took three steps to her left with her hand in the air as if cupping the cheek of her partner. I watched as she idly went through the dance I taught her, moving as if this dark cave were a ballroom, a hint of a smile on her lips.
And I thought to myself there might not be anything more dangerous in this world than this girl.
