Page 15 of Rise of the Phoenix King (Crown and Crest 4)

I turn, and a wide smile spreads over my face when I see the commander. He’s alone,for once, wearing a hooded cloak that’s beaded with raindrops.

“You escaped?” I ask, feeling a little awkward. Only a month has passed since Camellia’s death, but it might as well have been a year at court.

“Lawrence graciously gifted me with a free afternoon to prepare for this evening,” he says wryly, striding forward to join me. It’s the last day he’ll wear his emerald pennant. Tonight, it will be replaced with an amber one. Henrik will be a knight, just as he’s always wanted. Officially.Finally.

My eyes drift over his face, to his broad chest and chiseled arms, and I must remind my fluttering heart that Henrik isn’t just a handsome acquaintance.He’s mine.

If Lawrence will ever allow it, the wretched king.

“And you decided to spend your free time in the damp gardens?” I tease, resisting the urge to reach for him.

A lopsided smile plays at his mouth. “Only because I was told you were here.”

I grin, looking down at the wet stone pavers that line the path. “And what will you do now that you’ve found me?”

“Ask you to join me for a walk.” He looks as if he, too, feels slightly awkward.

We’ve never courted before—never done these simple, boring things that most couples do, like strolling the gardens or meeting for tea. We’ve fought aynauths. We chartered a pirate captain to sneak us into Ferradelle and uncovered conspiracies against the crown. We’ve met in secret and shared kisses that still keep me up at night.

This feels strange. Foreign.

Wonderful.

“And if someone sees us and tells Lawrence?” I tease.

“It’s only a walk,” he answers, wearing that look of agitation that’s reserved for times when he finds Lawrence particularly irritating. “No one can read too much into that.”

I laugh, stepping up next to him, wishing we weren’t wearing cloaks so I could take his arm. Instead, I have to settle for my shoulder brushing against him as we walk.

Henrik is quiet, his thoughts likely straying to tonight’s ceremony.

“Are you nervous?” I ask when we reach our fountain at the far edge of the grounds, where the plants pretend they are wild and the stone path is broken.

He shakes his head. “Not about the knighting—only that it might be a trick and Lawrence will take it away at the last moment.”

“He won’t,” I say. But in my head, I think,He had better not.

Henrik smiles as if reading my mind. Perhaps my tone gave me away.

I look around our overgrown sanctuary. The heavy tree boughs offer some protection from the rain—protection from prying eyes too. I turn to Henrik. “We’re alone.”

“We are,” he says quietly, looking like he wants to reach for me as badly as I want to reach for him.

Before I can respond, a muffled “Henrik?” sounds from entirely too close.

“Bartholomew,” Henrik says with a disappointed sigh. “He must have followed me.”

“Are you here somewhere?” the young duke calls.

I close my eyes, letting my head fall back and resisting the urge to groan.

“This way.” Henrik slips his hand into my cloak, sliding his palm into mine and interlacing our fingers.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, a laugh burbling past my lips as he pulls me between two large spruce trees. We disappear into the shadows behind them, enclosed in a natural sanctuary surrounded by overgrown shrubs and evergreens. The rain cannot reach us here, but the smell of dusty pine needles and the storm-drenched earth is a brisk embrace.

It’s a tight space, barely large enough for the two of us. We’re so close, we’re pressed together, and a needled twig pokes my shoulder.

“Are we hiding?” I laugh quietly.

---