Page 100 of The Princess's Chosen

I looked back and found his eyes on me, warmth rushing to my cheeks in spite of the cold winter weather.

"What of your father's estate? If you are Chosen, it might be passed on to someone else."

"My father never signed anything to make me his heir. I was groomed for it after his wife died. It was a possibility used to keep me in line, I suppose," Daniel said, frowning and looking out at the woods.

"But it was a possibility you wanted."

"To be a wealthy duke rather than a laborer? Or a country lawyer if I'd been a better student? Yes, I wanted it," Daniel said sharply, and then he grimaced at me. "It was hard not to. I had the steward position after school and I enjoyed the work, but the taunt of more was not without its temptations."

"I'm not judging you," I offered softly, focusing on the stillness of the scenery and Crescent's cheerful snuffling and exploration.

"I am," Daniel answered.

Our horses moved away from one another, traveling aimlessly through the woods with nudges of encouragement, the silence filling the moment to an almost stifling degree.

Daniel stopped and waited for me to ride slowly in a circle to face him. "I'm not Owen. I'm not…inclined to be satisfied with my surroundings, no matter what they are. I came here thinking of what I might have when I was done, rather than questioning the actual cause for being here. I grew too used to being told what to do and unable to know the reasons why."

"And what if the council's plan had worked and I'd taken you directly to my bed?" I asked.

"Knowing what I did of your sister, I had assurances that I'd be given a reprieve from the duty at some point," Daniel said solemnly, the pair of us staring at one another.

A reprieve from having to fuck me. It wasn't funny. Especially not in the context of Camellia; just the thought of her made me ache with worry. But in terms of Daniel and I? I snorted, and he huffed out a laugh, shaking his head.

"I'm glad to be wrong. About all of it," he said, smiling.

I took in a long slow breath, studying Daniel fully, the glint in his gaze, the breadth of him, the secrecy in his smile. As a man, he was certainly growing on me.

"We're nearly to the road. Ride down to Rumsbrooke with me?" I asked. "I want to visit the baker."

Daniel's eyes crinkled. "As if he wouldn't bring all his supply directly to the palace for you."

"It's the rolls," I said, turning Crescent and encouraging him into a trot again. "I like them fresh and sticky."

I grinned at the sound of Daniel's rough, startled laughter, and the heavy beat of his horse's hooves behind me.

31

Bryony

Icaution you against any sense of comfort or success, dear granddaughter. What little cooperation I gain in the south is quickly turned awry again. Your mother stands with me as long as no one else is able to catch her ear. Lord Thomlinson is planning to travel north with a few peers at the end of this month, and I suspect the council is at work.

You were right. They have too much leniency. I've enclosed a note from your mother expressing her full faith in your decisions. Find the council and use it if necessary.

You have my full faith too.

In most things.

- Dowager Queen Violet

I smiled at the letter in my lap, even though the majority of it left my stomach in knots. We'd had nearly three peaceful weeks. The apple trees were growing, the land rights for the orchards were secured, the money from the first month of taxes had been reserved for public use, and Aric had started secret work with his mage contacts on repairing the roads so nothing might interrupt doctors or food supplies to the northern territory.

I suspect the council is at work.

Now, with just a few lines, the peace I'd been enjoying transformed into a well-disguised trap.

Thao slid into the seat at my side, the greenhouse still fresh and lush as sunlight melted the snow on the windows and beat warmth into the room even as it remained frigid outside. I leaned automatically into Thao's side. He sought out the warmest rooms to spend his time in, but he maintained that he was constantly cold and had taken to ordering hand-knitted sweaters from local wives in Rumsbrooke and the surrounding farms, and the effect was deliciously cozy. I dug my fingers into the weave of the cables on his sleeve and he caught the letter in my hand.

"Mm, Wendell is on his way," Thao said, frowning at my grandmother's delicate script.

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