Page 58 of The Princess Knight
Sárait must have realized the futility of escape because she let out a long sigh. “Am I that obvious?”
“I only notice because I care about you.” Clía smiled. “Now tell me everything.”
The sheepish look that came over Sárait’s face was an expression Clía had never seen on her before. “I might have taken an... an interest in Kían.”
Clía had suspected it was the Oileánstran noble Sárait cared for, but despite her excitement at being right—and how adorable she thought the two would be together—she tried to seem a normal level of invested.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Clía asked.
“Nothing will come from it.” Sárait fell hopelessly back into Clía’s blankets with a thump. Thankfully Clía was able to grab the porridge from Sárait’s lap before it could spill. “I’m content to admire them from afar. Even if they were to notice me, how do you think that would work?”
Clía coiled her fingers around Sárait’s. “You never know what might happen. They might be falling irrevocably in love with you as we speak.”
“I would find that a little concerning considering I can never manage to utter a single word to them.”
“You’ve never spoken to them? We’ve been at Caisleán for over two months.” Clía furrowed her brow.
“Maybe I’m shy?” Sárait suggested, but at Clía’s raised brows, she relented. “Fine, I’m not shy. It’s just—they’re a warrior. And nobility at that. And have you seen them? I have no idea how to approach them.”
“This won’t do—we need to get you two to talk.”
“I know that look—stop plotting.” Sárait threw her arm over her eyes. “Let me simply pine from a distance.”
Clía ignored Sárait’s theatrics and continued. “You’re a tailor here. Why not fix something of theirs? Or—dare I suggest it—take the leap and try to speak with them tomorrow morning?”
Sárait just rolled over, facedown. Her voice was muffled through the cloth. “It’s not going to happen.”
“Nothing will happen if you continue whining instead of acting. Never allow yourself to become content with misery. You have fabrics here in the castle, right? Let’s design a beautiful dress for you that will steal their heart. There is nothing a new gown can’t fix.”
Sarait turned her head slightly, peeking out to consider Clía.
“Fine.”
The second the word left Sárait’s mouth, Clía’s mind began moving, planning, designing. Oh, she had so much to do.
***
THE COLD STEEL OFRONAN’S AXE KISSEDCLÍA’S NECK. SHEstopped suddenly. “I yield!”
Sárait walked over from the stands, where she had been watching with Murphy, joining them in the arena. After several days of sewing in whatever free time she and Clía could scrape together, Sárait was wearing the new dress they had designed together. The elegant lines of the skirt flowed to her ankles—not so long as to be impractical, as Sárait insisted—and the bodice hugged her curves delicately. When Sárait first arrived that morning—fashionably late, of course—Clía noticed that Kían’s gaze lingered on her longer than usual.
Sárait’s fingers were cold against Clía’s skin as she adjusted the leather armor Clía wore over her chest. “It’s a miracle you two don’t accidentally kill each other.”
Ronan gave her a wide grin.
“Give us time—autumn has only just begun,” Clía said, adjusting the axe in her hand and eying Ronan as if she were planning to lunge. She was rewarded with his laugh.
Summer had died, and the leaves of the trees around Caisleán Cósta had turned into bright flames. There was a crisp edge to the air that invigorated her.
“Kían told me that they heard someone say Kordislaen will let us train inside during the winter,” Clía mentioned. Scáilcan winters were known to be brutal.
Ronan shook his head. “The general will have us working outside even as the winter storms roll in from the coast and bury us in snow.”
Something told her Ronan wouldn’t be letting up on training either. But if he thought he could get her out of her bed before dawn during a blizzard, he was going to learn a hard lesson.
A yip from the stands stole their attention. Murphy jumped onto the ground, chasing a rabbit that had made its unwitting way into the arena.
“Has he graduated from the food you steal from the kitchens?” Ronan asked as they watched the rabbit lead Murphy in circles.
