This makes him laugh. Then he stops, abruptly, and studies my face. “You helped us with the Queen’s arrival,” he says. “Picked up her things when they fell.”

It isn’t the recognition I hoped for, especially after he winked at me at the garden party, but I consume it. Maybe he doesn’t remember exactly who I am after all, but he knows my face. “Yes, sir.”

“What’s your name?” This he asks a little slower, his head tilted to the side, as if gazing at something half familiar.

My heart squeezes and stumbles. Do I tell him the truth?

Liam might know who I am; he’s the one who hates me. If any harm is coming because of my carelessness, it’s already on its way. No danger will come for my father—it already has.

“Jules,” I say. I close my lips, half afraid that whatever it is fluttering in my chest will fly out my mouth.

“Jules,” Roan repeats. “The blacksmith’s daughter.”

My mouth drops open at the sound of my name in his mouth, intimate and precious. I shut it quickly. “We were friends,” I say quietly.

“Of course,” The smile rolls slowly back across his face. “Hide-and-seek. The tree on the north lawn.”

In an instant, the whole memory crashes over me too—summer, the smell of mown grass, a breathless game, Roan’s hand over mine. I nod, unable to speak.

“I saw you at the party. And then, in the halls the other night . . . ?” Roan says the last part delicately, no doubt wary of discussing my broken heart where anyone can hear. My first thought is that I hope he won’t think I’m in love with someone else. Heat courses through me at my own foolishness. And yet—

No, no, it doesn’t matter, I tell myself. He’s marrying the Queen’s daughter.

“I knew it.” Roan takes a step closer to me, still grinning. “You were so mysterious. Here one day and gone the next.”

“I didn’t want to leave,” I say, willing my voice not to tremble. In another world, I ask: Did you look for me?

A whole life, filled with different memories, opens up in my mind—a life in which I didn’t leave Everless—then shutters violently closed.

What does Roan remember? What can I say to him, to explain everything while giving away nothing? “My father— He—”

“My brother chased you off, didn’t he?” He smiles after he says it, but I can’t tell if it’s in jest. Before I can speak, Roan waves his hand through the air like he can brush the past away in one movement. “It doesn’t matter, now that you’re back.” Almost too quickly to notice, his eyes flicker down my body and back up, sending heat through me. “Where have they put you now, Jules?”

“The kitchen.” It’s a much lower station than the blacksmith, and I feel my cheeks flush with shame.

Roan makes a tsk sound between his teeth and moves even closer. I feel the warmth of his breath against my neck. If I were a different girl, I could reach out and touch him.

“I’m sorry I collided with you,” he says after a moment. “I was in a hurry—I have an audience with the Queen.”

But he doesn’t make a move to leave, and I’m startled to see that he’s blushing. That, combined with the absence of his usual easy smile, makes him look vulnerable and childlike.

“Well,” he says. “I’d better go. I don’t want to be late.”

“Wait,” I blurt out. My voice comes out high, questioning. Roan turns back to me. “Y-your coat, my lord.”

Roan looks down and sees the buttons on his coat misaligned, one side hanging lower than the other. He starts redoing the buttons, fumbling in his hurry.

Without thinking, I step forward to help—then realize what I’m doing, and feel my face flame red. But he drops his hands to allow me access. It would be stranger to stop now, so I don’t. I feel the heat of his body through his shirt and vest.

“Thank you, Jules,” Roan says softly.

I smell a faint, familiar scent of lavender coming off him, and know he must have just been with Ina Gold. The misaligned buttons, the flush in his cheek—my chest tightens. Quickly, I step away, dipping my head. “Yes, my lord.” The lump in my throat warps my words a little, but Roan doesn’t seem to notice.

Instead, his hand is on my arm. His grip is warm through the fabric of my dress, and so gentle. Liam’s interrogation a few minutes ago seems like a distant memory.

“You have a keen eye,” he says, a smile playing over his mouth. “I hope we’ll cross paths again.”

When? I almost ask—but then another idea blooms in my mind.

“We might,” I say.

Roan’s eyebrows raise—the smile on his face grows. “How’s that?”

My hope grows with it. I’d never thought I’d have a direct path to the Queen. Now it’s standing right in front of me in the form of Roan Gerling.

“I’d like to interview for the position of the girl who was banished by the Queen. Addie,” I say quickly. His smile falters. “I know they’re short on girls. I heard—” Roan blanches, so I stop short and try a different tack. “I want to be in Her Majesty’s retinue, to serve Ina. That’s where I was coming from just now—the library, studying. I know so little of her history. . . .” I try to take all the longing that he’s ignited in me and channel it into my voice, as if I’ve wished for nothing more dearly in my seventeen years than to wait on the Queen’s daughter hand and foot.

But Roan’s smile returns, and the warmth of it washes over me. “The test? Just a formality, Jules. A load of stuffy nonsense, if you ask me.” He grins. “The Queen is gone tomorrow, but I’ll put in a good word for you with Caro, the Queen’s handmaiden. She decides who gets close to Her Majesty, not some ridiculous test,” he says, more than a hint of pride in his voice. He takes a step back, tilts his head at me again—a new habit he picked up sometime in the last ten years—like he’s searching for an answer to a question. “In fact, why don’t you serve breakfast, for myself and Ina, so she can see how lovely you are? I’ll send for you when we have a free morning.”

“Thank you, my lord,” I whisper, my heart racing.

“Jules—it’s Roan,” he corrects me.

“Lord Roan,” I answer, allowing myself a small, crooked smile.

His laugh, long and loud, rings out in the cramped servants’ corridor.

“I am delighted to have run into you, Jules.” He leans close, brings his mouth nearly to my ear. “More than you know.”





13




Roan keeps his promise. Early the next morning, before the sun has turned from bleeding red to yellow, he sends for me. I slowly work the flour out of my hair in the warm water of the washbasin. I take the blue wool dress from under my pillow and put it on, buttoning it to my chin. All in preparation to meet Ina Gold.

As I leave, Bea raises her eyebrows at me and lets out a low whistle. “Who are you dressing for, Jules?”