Chapter Three: Advances

Due to Lady Fanette's stern lecture on ladylike behavior, the girls were quieter than usual at dinner that evening. But Vivenne was lost in thoughts from the afternoon: recalling not only that intense gaze from Sir Wyldon, but also his words. She could feel his eyes on her as she sipped from her wine glass, though she didn't quite understand how she was suddenly so aware of him.

The rest of their afternoon together had been uneventful. She and Lady Colinne had escorted him through the grounds, along with another two Tortallan knights who were curious about the kennels and aviary. There were no moments for personal conversation, but there were smiles exchanged and polite discourse.

And now she was under his gaze again, and unable to say anything to him. She looked up, meeting his serious brown eyes with a small smile. He raised his glass very slightly, a silent and secret toast to her. She felt ridiculously clammy.

And that was what confused her the most. She had been appreciated at court the winter before – it wasn't as though she was completely unaccustomed to a man's attention. But none of the men who flattered her were like Sir Wyldon. Mainly, she assumed, because Sir Wyldon was not a flatterer. She strongly felt that he was the kind of man who gave compliments sparingly, but genuinely.

The men were quiet as well; talks that afternoon had not improved from their early shouting match, therefore the mood in the dining hall was tense. People spoke quietly to their dinner companions, and spoke of impersonal things like art and dance. Only Prince Jonathan attempted to engage everyone in some form of discourse, but each subject was dropped almost as quickly as he brought them up.

There was no entertainment scheduled for the evening – Lady Eiralys encouraged the men to take air in the gardens, or amuse themselves in the library, or even create their own music if they were so inclined. Vivenne knew that she and her elder sisters were expected to circulate, making sure their guests were content and comfortable.

"I'll be in the music room with Idranna," Margarethe whispered to her sister. "Solanne went to the library, where she can politely ignore our guests while she reads – so you should head out to the gardens. Your knight is going that way, and there are all sorts of dark corners in which you can hide away from my mother; she and Father are going to be in the gardens with Duke Gareth and the prince."

"Are you sure you don't want to be out there, charming the prince?" Vivenne asked dryly.

"Absolutely," she said, tweaking her sister's nose. "Prince Jonathan doesn't make my eyes light up the way yours do when you speak of Sir Wyldon."

Vivenne rolled her eyes. "One interesting conversation and you assume I'm in love, don't you?"

"Just go!" Margarethe pushed Vivenne toward the doors to the terrace.

Outside, there were several small groups of men – as well as Lady Fanette – in the gardens and on the terrace. Servants were carrying trays of wine and juice to the men, so Vivenne took a goblet of juice before she headed down the stone steps of the terrace and into the garden.

"Lady Vivenne!" the prince called out, beckoning her to join his small cluster. She recognized Sir Raoul of Goldenlake and Lord Imrah of Legann, and was introduced to a knight from Fenrigh, Sir Markus. "We were told that there would be several families coming to Drell Valley for a ball."

"Yes, your highness," she answered with a smile. "You enjoy dancing, I assume?"

Lord Imrah laughed. "I've seen few knights who take to the ballroom as well as the prince."

"But we were wondering," Sir Markus said with a grin, "if the steps here in Tusaine are different from what we learned in our deportment lessons."

"We do minuets, quadrilles, courantes, rigaudon, gigues – I believe you dance these as well."

Prince Jonathan smirked. "Have you not learned of the latest dance – the waltz?"

"I'm afraid not, your highness," she said, embarrassed by her ignorance.

"It's quite simple," he said, taking her goblet and handing it to Sir Raoul, who had just nabbed another wineglass from a passing servant. "It's in ¾ meter, with a strong first beat. And it's in a closed position." He took Vivenne's right hand in his left and pulled her tightly against his chest, his left arm wrapped around her and resting on her back.

She flushed in dismay, uncomfortable in his grasp but afraid to push him away from her altogether. Even if he was taking liberties, he was still the prince of a nation who had just defeated her own in war. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I'll be very good at this," she whispered hoarsely.

"Nonsense – you're fine. You'll want to start off with your right foot," he said with a rakish grin, pulling her gently until she stumbled, her right leg leaning against his left.

"Jonathan, do you really think—?" Lord Imrah stammered, unable to condemn his prince.

Sir Raoul glowered. "Let the girl go, Jon," he said, his voice low and dangerous. He, it seemed, was not afraid of being on the prince's bad side.

But it was something else that made Prince Jonathan release Vivenne: a large hand had clapped onto his shoulder, pulling him backward with a quick jerk. "It doesn't look as though she would like to learn this dance just yet, your highness. Perhaps you should wait until we have musicians and willing partners." Although Sir Wyldon's words were polite enough, his dark expression and cold voice were not.

The prince backed up, turning to look at Wyldon. "Cavall, there's no need for concern. Lady Vivenne knows I only jest."

She took her juice from Sir Raoul, who was studying her carefully, as though making sure she were all right. Her hands trembled to the point of spilling "Of course, your highness. But you will have to excuse me – I've spilled my drink and need to rinse myself off."

She met Wyldon's eyes briefly before curtseying to all of the noblemen, then quickly walked deeper into the gardens, where a fountain trickled fresh water.

***

That was stupid, she thought as she rinsed her hand and tried to scrub the pear nectar from her gauzy sleeve. There were plenty of ways to get out of a tricky social situation without upsetting anyone, but she had frozen in the moment. She was in no danger, she knew. While she didn't always think much of Tortallan knights, they had all been perfectly polite since their arrival. What, had she expected him to rape her on the garden terrace steps with her father standing by?

She sat down on the fountain's edge, closing her eyes and sighing. The sooner these men were gone, the sooner she could return to her normal life. Summers were for riding and visiting her cousins – not spending every waking hour worrying about placating spoiled lordlings.

"I hope you don't mind me following," a cool voice cut through her thoughts, pushing the storm of worries out of her head at once.

Sir Wyldon.

"I thought you might come after me," she said, slowly opening her eyes. I hoped. He was crossing the brick patio to join her, two goblets in hand. She took one from him when he was within reach, and gestured for him to sit next to her.

"I shouldn't ask you to excuse him," Wyldon said after a moment's silence. "He's the king's only son, and he's used to people vying for his attention rather than shrinking away from it. I honestly don't think he knew how uncomfortable you were."

She nodded. "And how did you know to come to my rescue? I didn't even see you on the terrace."

"I saw the whole exchange," he said. "And you seemed panicked. I felt like I had to come to your aid – not only for your sake, but because the last thing we need right now is animosity between factions while we're trying to put a treaty in place."

She nodded. "I've met my share of amorous flatterers. But I'm usually more resolute about keeping their advances at bay."

He took a sip from his own drink. "I'm sorry if I misinterpreted your expression - if you preferred that I hadn't intervened."

"Not at all," Vivenne said, surprising herself by taking his free hand in her own. His hands were rough and calloused and much larger than hers. "I was taken aback and didn't know how to express my displeasure without angering Prince Jonathan or his companions. I know I wasn't at risk, but it was alarming to me just the same."

He looked down at her hand, then squeezed it gently with his own before releasing her. "He's not a bad prince. He's a talented young man, but he's been indulged. He loves his frivolities, and his chances to be a man rather than a king-to-be."

"Similar things were said of my uncle in his youth, I am told. He was the heir, and he always had his way – he was more interested in being an ardent lover than he was in learning to rule the kingdom."

"I had forgotten that you are King Ain's niece," Wyldon said, his expression unreadable.

"I wish I had that luxury," Vivenne said dryly. "It's impossible for me to attend any social function in Tusaine without the subject of who I'm to marry popping up. I'm a desirable connection, between my mother's social standing and my father's wealth. If my uncle would spend half as much time tending to his kingdom as he does trying to play matchmaker – " she stopped short, wringing her hands.

"Forgive me," she said, standing. "You came here out of concern for my well-being, and I'm talking of things that are unimportant." She walked away, her back turned to him.

"I don't think telling me how you feel is unimportant," he said, encouraging her to continue.

"My uncle put his entire nation's welfare in the hands of his brother – a man who is cruel to his wives and children, a man who arrogantly boasted of his ability to bring Tortall down to its knees. We thought he was imprudent and brash, but we assumed he had knowledge we knew nothing of – an alliance with Galla or Tyra, perhaps. Instead our people were sent to challenge a nation with a larger army and knights who consistently bested ours at every tournament, and we let our arrogance convince us that these facts were untrue. It was foolish, and if the king had paid less mind to frivolities, fewer people would be suffering today." Her voice shook with fury, and angry tears stung her eyes when she looked over her shoulder at Sir Wyldon. "I know it's treasonous to say such things, and I only say it now because I know we are far enough from the terrace garden that no one will chastise me. But I can't help but think that if your people would keep my uncles locked away in a prison cell to rot, my country would be all the better for it."

Wyldon stood and walked over to her, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. "Is it treasonous to have an opinion?" he asked, tenderly wiping the tears from her face. "Mithros put your king on his throne, as he did my own – but he also put you where you are today because you have the power to persuade. You could never be in the wrong for suggesting that there is a better way to act. Nobles have the duty to inform the crown when they think mistakes might be made. It is in good conscience to do so – it's hardly treason."

"Perhaps in Tortall," she replied bitterly.

"Vivenne," he began haltingly, slipping the handkerchief back into his pocket. It was the first time he had addressed her without her title, and she was astonished. Wyldon of Cavall seemed to be a man who took protocol very seriously. "May I kiss you?"

Her breath caught in her throat and she felt a thrill through her body. His gaze lacked the possessive intensity she had once seen, replaced by an expression of tenderness. "Y-yes," she whispered, fear and excitement battling inside of her.

She rested her shaking hands on his wrists as he tilted her face upward in his palms. Her eyelids fluttered shut as he brushed his lips against hers – a whisper of a touch, at first, until she moved one hand to rest on the nape of his neck. Then he deepened this kiss, teasing her with his lips and tongue; she mirrored his actions, learning from him as she went. They parted reluctantly, and she had to fight the urge to pull him back for more.

"We shouldn't stay here," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "If anyone were to see us, your father would never let you out of his sight."

"And if I'm not allowed out of his sight, we might not get other chances like this," she added impishly.