Page 89 of Pippa of Lauramore
Marigold’s eyes are on the other side of the room, and I follow them. Galinor is speaking with Rigel in the corner. They don’t look like they’re angry, but they are very solemn. My mouth goes dry. I take a drink of cider, but I have trouble swallowing.
Surely Rigel won’t tell Galinor. He can’t—I need to tell him.
Galinor joins the table after several nerve-wracking minutes. He greets everyone, but he doesn’t look at me when he says my name.
No.It wasn’t supposed to go this way.
How will I explain this to him? I didn’t do it on purpose. I never meant to hurt him. I close my eyes, blocking everything else out. I have been selfish and cruel. It was bound to catch up with me.
“Pippa, are you all right?” Galinor’s gentle voice says from across the table.
I meet his gaze, and all I want is to tell him how sorry I am. He nods as if he understands.
When he looks away, I search for Rigel. He’s summoned his page. The young man nods, and Rigel speaks with urgency. The page leaves, and Rigel looks up. Once again, he’s the monster I knew he was. He doesn’t look remorseful as he strides from the hall. If anything, he looks quite satisfied.
The festival would befun if I weren’t avoiding Galinor. Our silent conversation this morning said it all. I am heartless, and he forgives me.
I feel worse.
Leonora convinced Marigold to join her for the festivities, and I tag along for lack of anything else to do. I think Marigold is enjoying herself, and that is something. I feed off her enthusiasm, letting it lift my spirits. We eat entirely too much food—Leonora eats more than any of us—and we play ridiculous games, winning prizes like leather bracelets and pouches of pretty but worthless rocks.
It’s midday, and the sun is hot. I excuse myself and promise to meet them later. Even though Archer is most likely wandering the festival like we are, I decide to practice my archery instead of trying to find him. I haven’t had a chance to shoot since the day I lost my bow, and I’m itching to feel one in my hands.
I scan the armory for one that is similar to mine, but when I test it at the practice targets, it doesn’t feel the same. My shoulder aches, and if I’m not careful, I will tear the stitches. I block out the pain and continue. There are other people milling nearby, but no one pays me much mind. I see Galinor approach from the corner of my eye.
He watches several shots before he asks, “Where is your bow?”
“I assume the bandits stole it.” I’m surprised he noticed the difference. He continues to watch me, and, getting flustered, I do worse and worse.
“I already knew, Pippa,” he says, breaking the tension.
I let my bow drop to my side. “Galinor, I’m so?—”
“I knew the night we met him in the stables.” He offers me a smile that almost looks guilty—which is ridiculous. I’m the guilty one.
I set my bow on the grass under the apple tree, and then I sit down next to it. Galinor joins me. With his long, muscular frame, he should look awkward on the ground, but he doesn’t. He’s so handsome with his dark hair and blue eyes. He’s kind as well. It would have been so much easier to love him instead.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“What was there to say? You’re a princess, and he’s an archer. I knew there was no future there. You were going to wed one of the men in the tournament, and I wanted it to be me.” He gives me a rueful smile. His assessment of my relationship with Archer is painful to hear. He’s right, of course.
Galinor looks in the trees, studying a bird on a limb. His mood is different, and I can’t tell what’s out of place. He doesn’t seem heartbroken. He seems resigned.
“I should have told you,” I mumble. “I’m sorry it was Rigel.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t hate him, Pippa. He has his reasons.”
I’m sure he does. “Will you still compete?”
“Of course, I will compete.” He smiles, showing off the dimples in his cheeks, and leans forward in a move that should take my breath away, but sadly doesn’t. “You need me.”
“You will do this for me, even though you know where my heart is?”
“Perhaps I’m romantic, but I still believe you could love me if we were married.”
I’m comfortable around Galinor, and I do care for him. Perhaps it would be enough. It has to be.
“Besides,” he says, sitting back. “I can’t bear to lose to Lionel.”
