Thank you for reading and extra thanks to those who left feedback... now it's time for a little bit of angst. P.S. Don't worry, there's more of it coming on Thursday, and after that I plan on posting a new chapter each day. Enjoy!
For a week after Emma's little midnight adventure the rain doesn't stop falling for a single minute, and in all honesty, she's glad for it because it prevents her from going to the beach to see if Killian will show up there again.
She shouldn't want to see him because all she could ever hope to get from spending time with him would be a broken heart, and she thinks it would be even worse than what happened with Walsh, since it wouldn't be his betrayal separating them, but their class differences.
"Emma! What are you doing?!" Her mother exclaims when she sends another arrow flying well above the target she's aiming to hit and it lodges into a tree behind it. "You were getting so good at this."
"Sorry, sorry", Emma says sheepishly and takes another arrow from the quiver, forcing all thoughts about Killian Jones out of her mind and focusing only on the target in front of her.
His blue eyes won't leave her be.
The arrow hits the target, but it's nowhere near the centre.
Snow lifts her arms in exasperation and takes the bow from Emma's hands, then lies her own on her daughter's shoulder.
"What happened that day you ran away?" She asks and Emma stiffens because she hadn't expected her mother to connect her utter uselessness during her classes with her lonely expedition.
"Nothing happened, Mother. I strolled through the woods and I barely had the chance to make one circle around the village square before father's guards were upon me", Emma says petulantly but she can't quite meet her mother's gentle gaze.
"Are you sure you didn't come across your own Prince Charming in those woods?" Snow asks and Emma blushes fiercely red.
"What would a prince be doing in the woods? There's nobody there but peasants", Emma says firmly and Snow gives her a disapproving look at that, but it's precisely the thing Emma expected, she listens to her mother's lecture about the importance of every single person in the kingdom obediently, glad for the change of subject.
"Since today doesn't seem to be your day, we should abandon the archery and go see how the making of your ball gown is progressing", Snow tells her and leads her from the courtyard by hand as if Emma is still her little girl.
That little girl grew up quite some time ago.
Emma endures the gown fitting and a few hours of studies after lunch, but as soon as her tutor finishes the lesson and leaves the library Emma climbs out through the window the way she'd been doing for the past fifteen years; the castle is vast and she doesn't have the patience to go all the way around to reach one of the doors leading outside and then have to circle it again to reach the stables.
Killian Jones had been occupying her mind for long enough and she hopes riding will get him out swiftly and efficiently the way it had helped her deal with everything else she was ever struggling with in her life.
Her lips curl into a sarcastic smile because that's something Walsh never could understand, because he firmly believed that being a princess meant you never had a care in the world.
Killian would understand, her mind supplies unhelpfully as she stomps into the stables, so she leads her horse out as quickly as she can manage, mounts him and lets him take off as fast as he wants to across the meadow between the castle and the forest.
His name isn't Tornado for nothing.
The air rushes in her ears as they fly closer and closer to the first row of trees, Emma's thick braid bouncing on her shoulders until it unravels itself just as they reach the forest and Tornado finally slows down.
Emma had taken Tornado on this route enough times for him to know where to go, so she lets go of the reins and braids her hair again to prevent it from catching on branches from the trees lining the narrow path they are taking.
"Don't they teach princesses to hold the rains at all times?" A voice queries and she looks up in surprise to find Killian sitting astride a tan, tired-looking horse that must've been beautiful a decade ago.
"Riding the horse has nothing to do with the hands and everything to do with the thighs", she tells him with a teasing smile but still abandons her braid and takes the reins.
"I know", he says and winks at her, and she marvels at the fact that it's so easy for her to forget that he's only got one hand.
For a few moments they sit there looking at each other and Emma forgets everything she'd decided in the past week, throwing caution to the wind now that Killian is here and she's got a chance to spend more time with him.
"Have you ever been to the lake?" She asks him abruptly, and his eyebrows shoot up at her eager tone.
"Lake Nostos?"
"Nooooo, the lake in the forest... it's more of a pond really, but it's rather beautiful. Have you seen it?" She asks, practically bouncing with excitement to show it to him.
"Can't say that I have", he tells her and she just looks at him, willing him to invite himself along. "Is it far?"
"Not far at all, just hidden", she tells him in a mock whisper and he gives her a long assessing look, his eyes uncertain for a moment before he tips his head to the side and waves his left arm toward the trail.
"Lead the way, then, Swan", he says and Emma beams at him despite herself, digs her heels into Tornado's sides and gallops off, not even checking if he's going to follow.
Somehow, she knows he will.
Emma focuses on the narrow trail ahead, but she's still acutely aware of Killian's presence behind her, his horse following hers, their gazes meeting every time she allows herself to turn around.
The lake Emma wants Killian to see is surrounded with trees on all sides so they have to abandon their horses a little while before they reach it, and Killian is off his horse and striding toward hers as soon as she tells him they have to dismount.
He looks up at her expectantly, uncertain what to do; it's quite clear he wants to help her down, but unlike most men in her life, he doesn't simply reach up for her, so Emma slides off on her own and gives him a playful smile as she walks by him, then picks up her skirts and starts following a barely there trail leading toward the lake.
"You seemed quite at home astride your horse", he tells her when he catches up to her and Emma shrugs, holding aside a branch hanging over the trail until he passes so it doesn't hit him in the face.
"I've been riding for almost as long as I can walk", she says and finds him smiling at her, undoubtedly imagining her as a toddler riding a pony.
"Most princesses ride their horses sideways", he says and she rolls her eyes, secretly enjoying his teasing tone.
"How many have you met?" She asks and he hesitates, clearly uncomfortable, but she's had enough with his avoidances. "Can you just answer me for once?"
"I've met a few", he says, and she's about to query about his line of work before he became a blacksmith when the trail widens and they finally reach the lake.
The sky is as blue as the robin's eggs today and so is the lake, and Emma watches Killian's face, forgetting about her questions because she's too busy admiring his beautiful profile.
"Do you like it?" She asks rather unnecessarily, and he turns his head toward her before answering.
"It's lovely", he tells her and his eyes leave no doubt as to the meaning behind his words.
It's not the lake he finds lovely.
Emma does her best not to blush but she has to look away from his blue, blue gaze because he's standing close and she wants him closer still, wants to learn all his secrets and get to know him better than anybody else does.
She's afraid he's going to see that and remember who they are, remember that a blacksmith should not be alone in a forest with a princess, even if it's not the first princess he'd ever met.
"Do you come here often, your Highness?" He asks softly and Emma's lips turn down at the corners because she'd rather have him calling her Swan.
"Not as often as I'd like lately", she tells him and sits down on a fallen log she'd rolled here herself a few years ago, and it pleases her when Killian settles down next to her, close enough that her full skirt rustles against his thigh.
"Why not?" He asks her with genuine interest and Emma feels like exploding because what are they even doing here like this?
"Because my parents are going to hold a ball in my honour at the end of the fall and I'm supposed to be the best version of myself if I hope to pick a husband", she says bitterly and entwines her fingers together so tightly it hurts.
Killian is watching her, and when she looks up he slips his hand between hers so she ends up squeezing it, the world around them getting quiet and insignificant.
"You don't wish to marry, Swan?" He asks her softly and her thoughts are a jumbled mess, her fingers releasing their death grip on his hand and holding it gently, her thumb pressing against the pulse point on his wrist and finding his heart racing as fast as hers.
"Not like that. Not when my choices are limited to a dozen stuck-up princes who don't even want to be there."
"I highly doubt they wouldn't want to be there. You're quite the catch, lass", he tells her and she manages to smile.
"Have you ever been married?" She asks him, glancing down at his bare fingers and wondering if he'd even wear a wedding ring since he doesn't have the hand that's supposed to bear it.
"I haven't", he says gravelly and she tries not to look too relieved.
"But you wish to have a family someday, don't you?" She asks him and for once he doesn't deflect her question.
"I do, but I'm afraid such a thing isn't in the cards for me", he says, such longing in his voice she wants nothing more but to make it disappear.
"Why not?"
"Because I wasn't always a blacksmith", he says cryptically and Emma waits patiently, hoping that maybe this time he'll tell her what he was before; she's certain that his previous profession is the reason he'd lost his hand, and she's well aware of the fact that it can't be easy talking about it.
She would never admit it, but she's holding onto hope that whomever he was before he became a blacksmith, it's somebody who could court her without causing her father to have a heart attack.
"Why not, Killian?" She asks again, deliberately saying his name in hopes of encouraging him to answer her, but regretfully, it's got the opposite effect, making him remember who he is now and all the reasons why it's inappropriate that he'd given her his hand to hold.
"I am sorry, your Highness. I don't know what came over me", he says and slowly pulls his hand from hers, abruptly standing up and grasping his forearm behind his back the way he'd done at the beach.
"I prefer it when you call me Swan", she tells him, her eyes blazing with challenge because she keeps compromising herself and he keeps confusing her with his behaviour.
"We shouldn't be doing this", he says and Emma tips her head back to stare at the sky, trying to compose herself before she stands up and corners him at the edge of the lake; there's a slight drop, so their eyes are level and his are even more beautiful from this close, framed with the thickest, longest eyelashes she'd ever seen on a man.
He looks vulnerable, and her heart flips in her chest.
"What are we doing, Killian? We keep meeting and we seem to enjoy each other's company, but we both know it's never going to lead anywhere."
"I know", he says faintly and makes a sweeping gesture toward the horses. "We should go back."
"We should", she says, but doesn't move an inch. "We should also stop spending time together."
"I'll avoid the forest if you stay away from the beach", he tells her and Emma bites her bottom lip, feeling a petty sort of satisfaction when his eyes flicker to it.
"I'll also steer clear of the village", she adds unnecessary and he chuckles, but it's not a happy sound.
"I'll make sure not to attend any of the balls held in your castle", he tells her and she could weep at the injustice of it all.
"I really do enjoy your company, Killian", she says softly and then turns away from him, already starting to walk away when his fingers close around her wrist and he pulls her back around to face him.
"If it's meant to be, we will meet again, Swan", he tells her and a shiver runs down her spine because the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes make it sound like a promise, the most sacred of vows he'd ever given.
Emma nods and lets him lead her by the hand back to the horses, and once there, she even lets him help her mount Tornado because she doesn't want him to let her go, but as soon as she's in the saddle she finds that she can't deal with this anymore.
If they have to part, she wants it to be quick, if it can't be painless.
"Goodbye, Killian", she says and gallops off, tears blurring her vision as she goes faster and faster until his old horse can't keep up with Tornado anymore and she leaves them both in the dust.
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