Page 63 of The Huntsman's Heart
When I look around, the huntsman is watching me.
“What happened at the town?” I ask him casually, as if I am merely making conversation.
His eyes narrow. “I told you, she did not listen.”
Carefully I prop a larger stick on the pile and wait for it to catch. “She did not, or you did not?”
He sighs. “I left her for only a short time because I had no choice. But she is as willful now as she ever was.”
I turn to glare at him. “She is a princess. It is her right.”
He rolls his eyes. “Do you think noble birth qualifies a person to make stupid decisions? If so, I am just as qualified as she. Moreso, for have an extra century of experience making them.”
The way he says this gives me pause. I was not expecting humility. “You are also of noble birth?”
“I was a prince once. I died a long time ago, but I am or I was. I do not think that makes any difference, but to many folks it does and that has its own power.”
I consider what he said. “What do you want?” I ask him bluntly.
He’s quiet for a long time. I think he’s not going to answer, but eventually he walks over to stand closer to where I have a blaze going, and he looks at me. “I wish I could answer that properly. What I thought I wanted, I no longer want. What I want now is…” he sighs. “I wish I could take back what I have done. But I cannot. All I can do is look to the future. That future starts with righting past wrongs.”
I stare into the fire for a time. It echoes what Raban said earlier about atoning for sins, and it makes me think of my own.
We let this castle go to ruin when we let ourselves give up hope. Now it’s not fit for the princess the gods have blessed us with. We grew idle, and I will admit I was the first to tell the others we should stop caring.
After a while I say, “I suppose that is all any of us can do.”
I do not like it, but I would have liked it far less if he had tried to win me with pretty words. If he had lied. I do not think he lied. He says he does not know what he wants, but I do. It’s what we all want. What I hope that Raban and Évandre and I have found.
I do not like that I feel pity for him, but in a way I do. If it were not for Raban, I might have gone a hundred years before I would have spoken or acted on my desire for the princess. I would never have believed myself worthy.
I stand, walking to the well and drawing a bucket of water to set over the fire. The huntsman watches me. I expect him to follow when I take the warm water off the fire and ascend to the tower room. Instead, he goes back to his restless pacing, and I think of him down there while I help Raban bathe the princess and brush out her hair.
Alaric
As dawn steals over the treetops, I cease pacing the courtyard and watch as the gargoyles return to their perches on the walls. And then, ashamed of myself, I creep up to the solar to watch the princess sleep.
Her face is even more beautiful in the filtered morning light, the pink and purple window casting a glow over her cheeks, returning the rosy hue that I took from them. Her lips are blushing, the only part of her apart from her dark hair that still holds its color. My hand twitches at my side, longing to touch her.
I move closer to the bedside, convinced if I look long enough I might see her chest rise and fall with breaths she no longer needs. My fingers stretch toward her, longing to stroke that soft skin. Then her eyes flutter open.
She frowns. “Where am I?”
I pull back my hand like a child caught doing something I should not have been. “The ruins.”
She sits, brushing a strand of hair from her face and looking around. “What are you talking about? I have never seen this room before.”
“They built it for you,” I mumble.
Her eyes widen and she twists and goes to stand. Her legs seem to give out under her, and I have to catch her to stop her from falling. Gently, I help her find her feet again. I take her to the window and open the latch so she can see where we are. She looks out in wonder. “They built a whole tower?”
“They did.” My tone is sour.
She turns to me. “What? You do not like it? Are you about to tell me it will topple any moment?”
I shrug, looking away, but she narrows her eyes, ducking into my line of vision so I have no choice but to look at her. “Once I could have showered you with jewels and pretty trinkets andexotic flowers that would have made a simple tower look like a paltry gift. I owned a palace! I could have offered you the finest rooms and fed you with the finest food. Entertained you with the finest musicians. Now I have nothing.”
She prods me in the chest with an outstretched finger. “Are you jealous?”
