20. Chapter 20

twenty

N evander’s breath caught as he spotted Kallessa. Gone was the complicated hairdo, fancy dress, and dainty slippered woman he’d known thus far. In her place sat a wood nymph, hunched over a fishing pole on a massive log.

Kallessa looked utterly content, her simple cotton blouse and loose skirts blending seamlessly with the surroundings. Her gaze rested on the water, face relaxed in a way he’d never seen before. Lustrous curls rippled down her back, gently lifted by the morning breeze. Nevander’s fingers itched to run through those silken strands.

He stood frozen, drinking in the sight of her. This was Kallessa stripped bare of society’s expectations, and she was breathtaking.

Suddenly, she jerked upright, tugging on the pole. A huge grin blossomed on her face as she snatched it upward, pulling a wiggling trout from the water. He wanted to give her a reason to smile at him like that.

As she turned to retrieve the fish from the hook, their eyes met. Her grin faltered, body tensing. Nevander’s stomach dropped. He’d intruded on her moment of peace.

He weaved over the tree roots and rocks to her side.

“Not very ladylike, I suppose,” she said when he was close enough to see the spots on the trout she’d caught .

Nevander bit back a retort. He didn’t care if she liked to fish. For the first time, she looked happy and free, a stark contrast to her usual slightly pained expression.

She’d secured a line to a sapling, which trailed into the water. He pulled up the line where three more glistening trout wriggled on the string. She handed him the fresh trout, and he added it to the others.

“Nice catch,” he commented, his voice carrying over the gentle rustling of the last autumn leaves.

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension. Nevander scrambled for something to say. “I love to fish. You didn’t bring along another pole, did you?”

“Afraid not,” Kallessa said, her gaze drifting back across the lake.

His chest tightened. He couldn’t blame her for being wary after yesterday’s heated moment in the library. But seeing her here, shirt bunched at the waist, skirts crumpled and damp, hair tousled around her face—she looked completely unkempt and utterly desirable.

Before he could second-guess himself, he gently took the pole from her fingers and laid it on the ground. Drawing her close, his hands found their way into her glorious hair. Each strand felt like silk, carrying a faint scent of sunshine.

Kallessa’s brows drew together, but Nevander’s arms tightened, refusing to let go. He needed to lighten the mood, dispel this uneasy tension between them.

“No corset, my lady?” he teased, acutely aware of the warmth of her skin against him .

A flush crept up her neck as she met his gaze. “I am rather fond of breathing,” Kallessa replied, her voice breathy despite her attempt at nonchalance. “And I assure you, the fish don’t mind.”

Nevander chuckled. “How scandalous,” he whispered in her ear and felt a tremor race up her spine.

She swallowed. “How did you know where I was?”

Nevander pulled back, offering a crooked smile. “The entire staff knows. First, you stole carrots from the breakfast display, then you chatted with the biggest busybody in the stables.”

“I really didn’t think anyone would notice the missing carrots,” Kallessa said, a hint of sheepishness in her voice.

His grin widened. “They’re supposed to be for decoration.”

Kallessa tilted her head, her lips quirking. “That’s not what the horses thought.”

His laughter rang out across the lake, and for a moment, the tension between them eased. But then Kallessa’s gaze shifted beyond his shoulder, her eyes widening. She stepped back from him, breaking their embrace.

“Sunu is your horse?” she asked, her voice a mix of wonder and confusion. “How did you get her?”

Nevander’s brow furrowed. “My brother bought her about five years ago and gave her to me. How do you know the name of my horse?”

Kallessa’s pace was unhurried as she made her way toward the mare. Nevander followed, his mind racing. When Tarrick wasn’t getting drunk, he’d developed an obsession with horses and impulsively bought the entire stock from a southern estate auction. It had initially caused quite a stir. Father had been on the verge of a meltdown, but Tarrick surprised them all by successfully breeding and refining the horses, turning them into highly sought-after stock.

“My mother helped with Sunu’s birth,” Kallessa said softly, sliding her hand across the mare’s back. Sunu turned her face toward Kallessa, eyes wide and trusting. “She was breached and struggling. Mother worked through the night to make sure she lived.”

Her voice turned contemplative. “The stock has likely been distributed across the entire region by now, I suppose. I never knew who they were sold to.”

Nevander watched, trying to piece together the puzzle. There was no doubt this horse knew who Kallessa was. Sunu, typically skittish around strangers, nuzzled Kallessa’s palm as if greeting an old friend.

Looking up through the vibrant green canopy, Nevander squinted at the sun. Its golden rays cast a warm glow over the scene, highlighting the softness in Kallessa’s expression as she stroked Sunu’s neck. “I brought a picnic lunch,” he said, gesturing to the basket attached to Sunu’s flank. “It seemed like too nice a day to waste indoors. Would you like to eat with me?”

Kallessa hesitated, her hand stilling on Sunu’s flank.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Nevander said, a mischievous glint in his eye. “If you and Sunu win a horse race against me and Enola, we’ll even search for those underground tunnels you’re so curious about after lunch.”

A half-smile crooked Kallessa’s lips. The spark of adventure in her eyes told him he’d struck gold.

“You’re on,” she said, already moving to mount Sunu .

Kallessa’s laughter rang out across the valley, the sound making Nevander grin. She and Sunu were a vision as they cleared a narrow hedgerow, rider and horse moving as one.

There was no way he could have beaten her, not riding Enola. His niece Wynna’s pony was a fat, spoiled thing that had been snuck far too many sugar cubes. But he couldn’t share that information with Kallessa. Blast this deception.

He pushed it aside and trotted behind, reveling in the freedom of the fresh air and the captivating sight of the woman before him. Later, he would deal with that later.

As they rode into the vineyard, he whistled and pointed to the western horizon where a copse of trees gathered.

She whipped her head around and barreled toward it, her hair streaming behind her like a banner, catching the sunlight and turning to liquid fire.

Stunning.

As he caught up to her, Kallessa was already dismounting, her movements fluid and graceful. Her cheeks were flushed, her radiant smile alight with renewed vigor. It was obvious she loved to ride, and she was magnificent at it. A natural.

“I win,” she teased, her eyes dancing. “Now, where are the tunnels?”

Nevander chuckled, swinging down from Enola’s back. “Don’t you even want to eat lunch first?” he asked, gesturing to the picnic basket still secured to his saddle.

Her lips twitched. His windswept little tart. He wanted to kiss that look right off her face .

Instead, he cleared his throat. “I said we would look for the tunnels, remember?“ Nevander said, forcing himself to focus. “I don’t know where they are.”

Kallessa’s eyes remained alight with curiosity, but after a moment’s consideration, she nodded. “I suppose I am hungry,” she admitted. “And it wouldn’t be good to explore on an empty stomach.”

“Oh, thank goodness we raced before we ate lunch,” Kallessa said, her hand sliding over her waist. Nevander’s gaze followed, heat rising in his chest. He imagined his own fingers tracing that path, feeling her warmth through the fabric.

“What’s your favorite pie?” he asked, desperate to distract himself.

They lounged under a swaying willow tree on a hay scented blanket from the stables, bellies full from the earthy warmth of quiche and fresh rye bread, generously slathered with butter. They’d passed a jar of preserved peaches between them, their forks piercing the flesh with a satisfying give, the sweet, candied fragrance mingling with the autumn air.

“Rhubarb. It’s sweet and tart and stains everything it touches.” Kallessa smiled. “What’s yours?” She leaned against the tree trunk, her legs crossed, her skirts spread around her. She looked like a wildflower, unrefined and natural.

The royal kitchens were always overflowing with decadent treats, but only when the ships came in from Reykia, laden with exotic produce, did he get his favorite.

“Mango. ”

Her eyebrows arched. “Mango pie? I’ve never heard of it.” A gentle breeze teased the edge of the blanket, and she held it down with her empty glass.

“You being from further south, I thought you’d have tried it.” He really would have to visit Teansong in the future. After all, it was one of his provinces.

She smoothed a hand across her ruffled skirt. “I’ve eaten mango, but not in a pie.” Her eyebrows pinched for only a moment. “My mother loved Reykian fruits, she missed them from her childhood. So every chance my father had, we had something from the tropics.”

“Your mother is from Reykia?”

“Yes.” The single word held a wealth of emotion.

That explained her exotic dark eyes and hair. Reykia, a tropical island south of the mainland, was known for its beauty, both in landscape and people.

“My mother is from Telarith.” As tradition dictated, his parents’ marriage had been arranged for a treaty and trading right between the two countries. A sense of unease spread through him. That’s what Ciana and Dane’s arranged marriage was supposed to ensure. Peace between kingdoms.

Yet, look how that had turned out. Would he be next? The thought threatened to sour his stomach.

“And your father?” Kallessa asked, oblivious to his inner turmoil.

Nevander hesitated, a half-truth perched on his tongue, the bitter taste of it mixing with the tang of white grape juice that lingered on his lips. His father was the bloody king. King Oren Lionskye had not a drop of foreign blood in his veins. “He is from Dracia, actually a long lineage from the region. ”

Kallessa’s skirts rustled softly as she repositioned, her gaze fixed with a childlike curiosity. “How many siblings do you have?”

“I’m proudly the youngest of four rowdy, annoying children that my mother is always lamenting.” If he told her the names of his siblings, would she recognize them? That nagging guilt twinged his insides, making the sunny day a bit dimmer.

Instead, he turned the questions to her and smiled, hoping his eyes looked inviting and open. “So, Lady Kallessa, what is your family like?”

Kallessa slid a blade of golden grass between her fingers, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She looked up at him with an unfathomable expression on her face.

Then she stood abruptly, brushing the grass from her skirts. “Do we have time to look for the tunnels?”

The sudden change of subject was jarring. What was she hiding? His conversation with Castien the previous day came to mind. His friend had urged him to find out more about his ‘fiancée.’ But how could he pry without revealing his own deceptions?

“If I were to build a tunnel,” he said carefully as they packed up their things and mounted their horses, “I’d start somewhere remote, rarely visited. What do you think?”

But Kallessa wasn’t listening. She stared across the horizon, lost in thought. A lone cloud veiled the sun, casting a shadow that cooled the vibrant day and darkened her golden eyes to the shade of old amber.

When she spoke, her voice sounded distant, unlike the woman he’d spent the last few hours with. “I know we aren’t really engaged, and most likely I won’t ever see you again after this, but I must know something.” Her question hung suspended in the air, laden with the weight of stones skimmed across a still pond. “Can I trust you?”

His thoughts stumbled. He’d been thinking about his own deception mere minutes ago. But even though he wasn’t being forthright, oh heck, who was he kidding, he was outright lying about who he was, he would never break her confidence. Whatever she told him would stay between them. He owed her that much.

He slowed Enola, riding beside her. “Of course.” He responded smoothly, praying that none of the tumult in his mind spilled out.

She glanced away, her lips tightening, and she drew in a breath. “When I go home from the festival, it will be back to my aunt’s cottage in Teansong.” She pushed a strand of hair that blew into her face. “That’s where I live now. I am her housekeeper and cook, companion and niece. Once upon a time, I was a lady, but now,” A storm darkened in the depths of her eyes. “I am no one.”

Nevander’s insides grew still. “Stop right there.”

Startled, Kallessa did so.

“A lady is not defined by her name or her lineage,” Nevander said, his tone gentle yet firm. “She’s a lady because she carries herself with dignity, grace, and strength of spirit.” He thought of the vapid noblewomen he’d known, their titles as empty as their heads. “Trust me, I’ve known plenty of women who have the title and don’t deserve it.”

A battle played out on Kallessa’s soft face as different expressions flitted by before she settled on one.

For the first time, there was a glitter of hardness in her eyes.

“Then why, when my parents died, did I lose everything?”

Nevander’s nostrils flared. “Tell me more.”

The freedom of riding Sunu, as if that was still her life, was gone. In its place was a brutal reminder of her reality, which was a far cry from this opulence and privilege.

She was so tired of lying about her identity. Nevander already knew the truth about her nonexistent engagement, so she wouldn’t have to maintain that charade with him. What if she just told him? A simple ship builder’s son wouldn’t judge her, would he?

Their horses were at a standstill, facing the lake again. But that serenity was broken. She didn’t care about the stupid tunnels. They’d only been a distraction, anyway.

She took a deep breath. “Five years ago, my entire world shattered in an instant.”

Nevander dismounted, then helped her down from Sunu. He spread the picnic blanket beside the lake and gestured for her to sit. He sat down, facing her, his hand rested gently on her ankle.

“Tell me,” he said softly.

Kallessa studied his steady gaze. Strength radiated from those eyes the color of spring grasses. And in them, she saw something that allowed her to free the thoughts that plagued her every day. “It was a carriage accident. My father, mother, and little brother Blain...” her voice faltered for a moment before she continued, “all perished when it careened off the cliff at Whisperwind Pass.” She’d never shared this story, not really. Everyone in her former life already knew. The words felt foreign on her tongue. “They said the connection between the carriage and the horses came loose around the bend, causing them to lose control. ”

So many times, she’d taken her own horse, a chestnut mare named Iona her father had given her for her 12th birthday, to that treacherous pass, trying to understand what had happened. The remnants of the gilded carriage lay hundreds of feet below, a tiny dot of gold and amber against the sheer rock face, smashed to a thousand pieces. Her family, all that she cared about in the world, dust and bones. Unreachable.

She couldn’t give them a proper burial. Now, with Iona gone, she couldn’t even visit the accident site. Aunt Gevene’s old mare, a swaybacked gray named Daisy, wasn’t strong enough to travel that far into the mountains. Five long years of agonizing questions, of wondering if she could have done something.

Or would she be dead now, too, her body broken on the rocks below?

“They were returning from the Vaston music festival in the capital. We used to go every year. Normally I’d have been with them, but we’d had a fight, and I’d refused to go.”

She’d been so young and stupid. All over a boy. Her voice trembled as she continued. “I didn’t even say goodbye to them.” She swallowed hard. “I just left a note and went to Aunt Gevene’s. If I’d only known…”

She blinked, directing her misty gaze to the sky. Storm clouds gathered on the western horizon, a chill creeping into the late autumn air. She unrolled her sleeves, buttoning the cuffs for warmth.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the racing clouds. “My father crafted the finest carriages in Dracia. Even the royal house commissioned them. He was the best driver I knew. I just don’t understand what went wrong. ”

A long silence followed her words, and she turned back to Nevander. His expression was unreadable, his eyes intensely focused on the horizon.

A pang of hurt pierced her. She’d just bared her soul. The least he could do was pay attention. “Nevander, are you even listening to me?”

The question hung in the air between them. Kallessa held her breath, suddenly terrified of his response. What if she’d revealed too much? What if he saw her differently now?

His eyes snapped to hers, filled with an emotion she couldn’t quite name. He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. Kallessa’s heart pounded in her ears as she waited for his response, the weight of her revelation pressing down on her chest.

An eerie sense of déjà vu washed over Nevander as Kallessa’s story unfolded. Her words blurred with fragmented memories from the war, creating a disorienting tapestry of past and present. The carriage accident after the music festival... He’d been there that year, hadn’t he? Twenty-one and brimming with youthful arrogance .

The festival flashed before his eyes: vibrant lanterns swaying in the breeze, the intoxicating blend of ale and roasted meats, laughter mingling with music, and girls twirling in flowing dresses. But something darker lurked beneath the surface of these memories, a nagging whisper he couldn’t quite grasp.

“Nevander?” Kallessa’s voice cut through his reverie, laced with concern.

He blinked, forcing himself back to the present. “I’m sorry, please continue. What made you so angry that you refused to go with your family?”

Kallessa’s jaw clenched, her eyes clouding with a mix of embarrassment and old pain. “What it always is when you’re young and stupid, I suppose. A young man.” She paused, twisting a blade of grass between her fingers. “Actually, a poet.”

Nevander’s breath caught in his throat, an inexplicable dread creeping up his spine.

“I was so infatuated,” Kallessa continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t see past the flowery words and grand gestures. When he asked my father for my hand and he refused, I was furious. I didn’t understand why. Tynan seemed perfect.”

The name punched Nevander in the chest. “Tynan,” he repeated, his mouth suddenly dry. “Tynan Respa?”

Kallessa’s eyes snapped to his, widening in surprise. “You know him?”

Of course he did. The famous Dracian poet, renowned across the kingdom for his romantic verses that made young ladies swoon.

But it wasn’t Tynan’s poetry that Nevander remembered. His heart ratcheted into his throat as a memory, sharp as a razor blade, sliced its way back to the present from the depth of the war. A confession whispered in Tynan’s final moments, a secret Nevander had kept buried for years.

“Kallessa,” he said, his voice low and urgent. He grasped her hands, not caring if his touch was too rough. “What is your family name?”

She tried to pull away, but he held firm. “My family is gone,” she whispered, pain etched across her face .

“Please,” Nevander insisted, his heart pounding. “I need to know.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance as storm clouds gathered overhead, mirroring the tumult in Nevander’s mind. A gust of wind scattered leaves across their picnic blanket, carrying the scent of impending rain.

Kallessa searched his face, confusion and fear battling in her eyes. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely audible over the rustling trees. “Wynlar. My real name is Kallessa Wynlar.”

The world tilted on its axis. Puzzle pieces Nevander didn’t even know existed slammed into place with brutal clarity. He released Kallessa’s hands as if burned, stumbling to his feet.