His brow was tense. He did not step past her threshold. “Thank you for your hospitality, Your Highness, but I’m to report for my return to active duty this afternoon. I only wanted to bring you this.”
She hesitated. Return to active duty? So he had been on leave. She thought it might be a relief—part of her had been worried he might be intentionally avoiding her—and yet it was also irksome to think that he needed two entire weeks to mourn his wife, to attach to his daughter.
“Don’t be silly,” she said, pushing the door open more fully. “I will ensure that your tardiness is excused. Come in, just for a minute, please. I’ve mi—I’ve been worried about you. Wondering how you were.”
Still he hesitated, glancing down at the fabric.
“Sir Hayle. Don’t make me issue it as a command.” She laughed, but his jaw only clenched in response. He did, however, step inside. His eyes darted around her chambers like he’d just entered a cage. She shut the door behind him.
Her palms were growing damp, her pulse humming. “Come in. Sit down. I didn’t realize you were on leave. Though I’d been wondering…” She drifted into the parlor, and found that her legs were trembling by the time she lowered herself onto the cushioned divan. Evret did not come closer. Did not sit down.
She pretended not to notice his anxiety, but she did notice.
It made her own nervousness increase, memories of a thousand fantasies crushing down on her. Fantasies that had begun so much like this, only now it was real. He was here.
“Speak, Evret. Tell me what’s become of you since we last saw each other.”
He pulled himself up, like bracing himself for a blow. His expression became stoic and professional, his gaze latching on the painting over Levana’s shoulder.
“I was grateful to be given this time to make arrangements for my deceased wife, as I know you’re aware, Your Highness, and also dealing with the effects of her business.” His voice started to break, but he recovered smoothly. “I’ve spent this past week clearing her needlework shop and auctioning off what assets I could.”
Levana’s mouth pursed in a surprised O. She hadn’t considered what might need to be done when someone died. After her parents’ death, the thaumaturges and servants had dealt with everything.
“I … am sorry,” she stammered, thinking it might be an appropriate thing to say. “I know you’ve been through a lot.”
He nodded, as if to accept her compassion.
“And how is the child?”
“She is well, Your Highness, thank you.” He sucked in a breath and held out the bundle in his arms. “I want you to have this.”
“Thank you, Evret. What is it?”
Levana hoped that, by not moving from her spot on the divan, it would compel Evret to come closer. To sit beside her. To finally look her in the eyes.
Instead, he unfolded the fabric and spread it out, revealing the elaborate quilt of Earth that Solstice had made, half of it pooling past his feet.
Levana gasped. It was every bit as striking as she remembered—even more so when surrounded by the luxuriousness of her royal chambers.
“Sol made it,” Evret said, his voice heavy, “but I think you know that already.”
Levana scanned the shimmering, patched-together pieces of Earth, up and up, until she was looking at Evret again. “It’s magnificent. But why are you giving it to me?”
His face started to crumple, and he seemed to be holding his emotions together through stubborn determination. “She told me that you’d come into her shop, Your Highness. She said you admired it.” He gulped. “I thought she would like for you to have it—as you were her princess, as you are mine. And I also thought … I wanted to show my gratitude to you, for persuading Her Majesty to let me go, when Sol was … You’ll never know what that meant for me, Your Highness. You’ll have my gratitude until the day I die.”
Levana cleared her throat, eyeing the quilt. She loved everything about it—the design, the impeccable craftsmanship. She loved that Evret was giving it to her. But she also knew that she could never look on something that his wife had made and not feel a twinge of resentment.
“The quilt is extraordinary,” she finally said, standing. “If it’s all right with you, I’m going to store it somewhere safe, and we can give it to your daughter when she’s older. She’s the one that should have it.”
Evret’s eyes widened with surprise, then, slowly, softened into a hesitant smile. “I … thank you, Your Highness. That’s…” He looked away, pressing his lips tight with emotion. “That is incredibly kind. You are incredibly kind. Thank you.”
She shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me. I don’t want your gratitude, Evret.”
He let his arms relax too, letting the quilt sag in front of him. “My friendship, then,” he said. “If you still want it. Though I’m merely a guard, and not deserving of such a friend.”
His smile was so unnerving that Levana had to turn away, flustered. She could feel her cheeks heating. Her heart was a volcano, now, hot lava gushing through her veins.
“No, Evret. You must know that I think of you as more than … than simply a friend.”
The grin froze. His brow twitched with a hint of panic. “Your Highness—I…” He shook his head. “I didn’t want my coming here to…”
“To what?” she urged, taking a step toward him.
“To give the wrong impression,” he said, softening the words with another tentative smile. “You’re a sweet girl. Sometimes I think that you’re … you’re confused, but I know you mean well. And I know you’re lonely. I see how you are around the rest of the court.”
Levana bristled, mortified to think of all he had seen. Channary’s taunts, the court’s laughter …
“I know you need a friend. I can help you. I can be there for you.” Dropping one corner of the quilt, he dragged a hand down his face. “I’m sorry, this is coming out wrong. I didn’t mean that to sound so…”
“Condescending?”
He flinched. “I care about you. That’s what I’m trying to say. I’m here for you, if you ever need someone to talk to, someone you can be yourself around.”