A Crown in Ash (The Ostler's Boy Book 3)

Chapter Forty-Three

The Duke left ahead of me. I took the moments alone to blush and fawn over the idea that he and I would be together. Actually together. That Askar was on his way to seek my parents' counsel and that he would propose for all the world to see in a week's time. That I would be his wife.

Wife.

I thought about how silly it felt to say, considering that I had never meant to see him beyond the Apple Faire. I had never been so happy to be so wrong.

I held my head a little higher and set out to find Ser Willoughby. I wanted to tell him first because I knew he would be upset that I had not followed his orders, that I had wandered from the hall, and because... Well, because when I thought about it, I realized he was my friend. My best friend.

When I was presentable enough to pass the critical eyes of the night, I hurried down the stairs and back through the long corridor toward the Grand Hall.

I was nearly to where my Blade would be when somebody stepped out of one of the rooms. I jumped, stumbling backward, but caught myself on a suit of armor lining the wall.

"K-Kristjan?" I stammered. I cleared my throat. "Lord Beck. My pardon. You startled me half to death... What are you doing back here?" I asked.

He hmmed, folding his arms around each other, and looked me over. "Where did you run off to?" he asked. "You were supposed to dance with me."

"Right." I nodded once. "I'll be back soon. I'm looking for Ser Willoughby."

"Mhm. I might have guessed. Does Ser Willoughby know that Askar came out this way not too long ago? Wouldn't blame him if he assumed he was back here with you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I told him. "I spilled champagne. I was treating a spot on my dress before it set. I don't know where His Grace is."

"That's funny," he said.

"I don't think it's particularly funny, sir," I replied. I narrowed my eyes. "...How did you get past Ser Willoughby?"

"Was he supposed to be guarding something?" he asked. He motioned toward the other hall. "I came through the kitchen."

"The kitchen? Why?"

"I was worried about you," he said. "You left the dance in a hurry, and if you think I did not notice that, then you're not giving me the credit I deserve. I notice everything you do."

"I," I stopped. "I don't know what to do with that, Krist. That doesn't explain why you would've circumvented the hall to find me. No, this was an intentional workaround."

"Do we really need to play this game?" he asked.

"What game?" I said. "I'm not playing a game with you."

"You and I have always played games. Haven't we?" he said. "I can think of a few times you–"

"I can't think of any," I spat—a knee-jerk to his attempt. I was heeding Ser Willoughby's advice. "I can't think of any games we played."