Page 73 of Settle Down, Princess

“Master Creed, the women of your family have given me something I’ve wanted my entire life but never dreamed it might be possible to possess.” I nodded, smiling mirthlessly. “Freedom. They’ve made clear that no force known to man will have me removed from the packlands. That here I am…” My breath came out in a long shudder. “I am safe.”

For a moment I couldn’t continue because that previously unimaginable idea was still too fresh, too raw, inside me. I wanted to pull it out and inspect it from every side to make sure the concept was sound.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever felt that way before.”

That seemed strange, to say that even of my life within my father’s castle. But it had always been his house, his rules, his perilously high standards that I’d been told I needed to meet, and I recognised now that Mother had simply been following the strictures that she’d had placed on her.

I stared down at the posy in my hand, seeing the delicate little blooms and feeling some empathy as they shifted slightly in response to the breeze, because I felt just the same. Plucked from the soil, collected up and arranged, just to be given away to someone else.

I didn’t want to be a damn flower anymore.

I wanted to be a tree, tall, soaring up into the sky, roots buried so deep in the earth no one would be able to dig me up. They’d be forced to move around me.

The feeling of being ungrateful, graceless, rose up as I thrust the flowers back into Creed’s hands and closed his fingers around them.

“I need to get to know who I am, what I might become in such an environment, Master Creed, so while I accept your apology, I cannot take these flowers.”

Because such gifts would just be coin paid to make a claim on my time. They’d be buying my attention, my regard, and while I couldn’t tell you what I wanted instead, I knew instinctively that such things weren’t it.

I had kept my gaze locked on the flowers because meeting Creed’s eyes, or Silas’, or Roan’s brought it all back: the searing heat of their fingers on my flesh, the feelings of pleasure so dizzying that I could still feel the aftershocks of it, even now. The idea of never feeling that again seemed torturous, but I frantically reasoned with my own impulses. There would be other men, any number of men, if that’s what I wished for. And surely the same lightning we’d been able to conjure between us could be made to strike between me and men who treated me with far more respect.

“But thank you for thinking of me.”

I nodded, then pulled away, back into the haven of the cottage, away from them, and most of all away from the searing look of pain on Creed’s face as I closed the door between us.

My lungs heaved while I gasped in air, as if what I’d just done was run a marathon not reject the advances of men who hadn’t treated me with the respect I deserved. Though in some ways, that was an apt comparison. It had taken effort to hand back those flowers. I’d exercised muscles I didn’t even know I possessed, and that’s why my breath was coming in fast. Mother Marian walked in from the workroom adjoining the sickroom, her eyes flicking my way as she took in my state.

“Are you well, Jessalyn?” she asked me.

I forced myself to smile, because sometimes one had to pretend before one’s dearest wish came true.

“I am, Mother Marian.”

“Just Marian,” she chided me, bustling over and inspecting the wound on my head with gentle fingers. “That seems to be coming along nicely. Now, since we had such a hearty meal at Saffron’s place, maybe take some tea and biscuits as you sit out in the garden. Sun and fresh air, they’re the best thing for a convalescing patient.”

I blinked, forcing myself to replace my view of the four men on the other side of the door with the pretty back garden of the cottage.

“That would be lovely, Marian.”

I spent a lazy afternoon sitting under the sun with a book in my lap that I read from only intermittently. My eyes struggled to follow the words at times, my focus fractured, and my head still throbbed dully in time with my heartbeat. Instead, I dozed or simply gazed out past the back fence of Marian’s garden, watching families at work or children playing in the distance. I was only a little startled when Fern appeared beside the back gate, and instead of going to the bother of opening it, she threw herself over the fence with a graceful leap.

“So, you rejected my brother?”

“Well… Fern—”

“It’s alright if you did.” She grinned down at me. “He’s a bloody idiot anyway, so it makes sense that you would. And those other boys…” She shook her head sharply. “Human men are one thing, but pretty ones?” She let out a long hiss. “Gran always says that pretty and arrogance rise in the presence of the other.” Her hands formed two lines, each one slowly rising. “The prettier they are, the more arrogant, but those men don’t matter. Come and have dinner with me in the dining hall.” And she flipped one hand over and held it out.

I stared at her hand and then took it, her grip strong and firm as she hauled me to my feet.

“Shouldn’t I put on a fresh dress?”

Fern looked me up and down.

“Not unless that’s what you want. You could wear a potato sack and no one would think twice about it.” Her brow wrinkled. “Old lady Blossom used to do that from time to time. The elders thought it was because she was starting to lose her mind but turns out she had fleas and the fibres of the hessian kept them away, while making it easy for her to scratch.”

I blinked, unable to reconcile that mental image, but Fern just smiled.

“And anyway, you look pretty in that dress. The green really suits you. Brings out the accents in your eyes. You’ll have plenty of boys chasing after you.” I must have pulled a little on her hand as she led me back to the gate because she stopped and turned to regard me again, then shrugged. “If that’s what you want. But some slices of tender spring lamb? You’ll definitely want that. It’ll melt in your mouth, I promise you.”

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