Page 65 of The Princess's Chosen

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Bryony

“Your Highness."

"Bryony," I corrected in a snap.

"She needs to move when she's anxious, she can't help it," Cosmo murmured to Cresswell.

"That may be, but it would be better if she were moving in a more…stationary way," Cresswell muttered back. "Bryony, please. If I could convince you to return to your rooms where it would be easier to guard you."

"Fine, fine," I said, turning quickly around a corner to take my pacing right back to my rooms.

I'd sparred with Thao. I'd tried sitting for Cosmo and failed terribly. Owen had wanted to take me horseback riding, but Cresswell refused.

Behind me, someone jogged along the tile to catch up with me, and I expected Owen or Wendell until that warm dense smell of Cresswell reached my nose. My steps slowed and my eyes lifted to his clear green ones.

"I don't mean to be difficult," I said, reaching for his arm and delivering a tenuous smile as he pressed my hand to the crook of his elbow.

"You aren't being—I understand," he said. "Is it worry for Aric, or frustration of being cooped up?"

"Both."

"You like being more hands-on," he said, more to himself, and I looked up in time to catch him blushing. "With problems, I mean. You try and solve them yourself."

"I suppose so. It just seems to me that my family has made a habit of delegating without bothering to check the results, and that's left others suffering," I said. "Also, and no one say this to Aric, but the last time he went up against Emory—"

"He was off his game," Cosmo said, joining me on the other side, his arm around my waist. "Don't worry about Aric. He has more allies than Emory, regardless of Emory managing to escape. It's a different playing field entirely. Outside of the challenge, he'll be able to use his magic too. Come on, we can play chess. Or read to you. Or…" He arched a brow, fixing a teasing smile over his lips.

I shook my head. "Sorry, I just—"

"Or you can pace a hole in the floor," Cosmo said gently, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Whatever you need."

"I'm sorry to pull you away from your work."

He shrugged. "I'm not sure I could focus when I knew you were worried. I'll sketch while we wait."

We reached the doors of my suite and Cresswell's fingers squeezed over mine, holding my touch in place as he glanced over the two guards stationed outside.

"Stanley, I'd like you to stay with me. Walsh, grab Putnam and scout the perimeter."

"Scout for what exactly?" the older of the two guards questioned.

"Anyone but court or staff," Cresswell answered in a clipped tone. "I'll hold your station for you. Send Yorley and…Brummer around as well."

"Are we expecting a siege?" Walsh pressed, eyes narrowing.

Cresswell stiffened and stood taller, ready to speak, but I couldn't resist interrupting. "Do you often question orders from your superior, Guard Walsh?"

"I—No, Your Highness," the man said, bowing, eyes moving skittishly between Cresswell and I.

"I'm relieved to hear it, but I'd prefer to see the evidence."

"Yes, Your Highness." He bowed and hurried out of our way, and Cresswell fought a smile.

"I'll be just out here," he said.

"I'd rather you come inside with the rest of us," I said, smiling up at Cresswell, who turned an even darker shade of flushed than before.

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