She was glowing again, thinking of it. “Is it possible? Please!”

“If I spoke to your guardians, what would they say?”

“They would refuse,” Elis said, “and then punish me for having let you know I wanted it.”

“Then we must plot in secret. And that means, Elis, you must be like a soldier in enemy territory, pretending to be what you are not, and hiding the glee that even now covers your face. Think how miserable you are—think of being married not to me, but to an old drunk at home—never to ride again, never to be free. Sulk. Frown. I will need time to organize this.”

“You must rescue Ganlin, too,” Elis said. “I know she’ll want to come—”

“I will talk to Ganlin tomorrow,” Kieri said. “In the meantime, tell your guardians you tried to charm me, but I was cool. Can you do that?”

“Yes!” she said with far too much enthusiasm. He gave her a quelling look, and she reverted to the sulky Elis he had seen before.

They walked back across the garden, chatting only of flowers and inconsequentials. Her guardians waited at the garden door, glowering because the two King’s Squires would not let them out.

“We had a pleasant walk,” Kieri said. “Princess, thank you for your time.” He bowed; she curtsied, eyes downcast.

The next day, Kieri escorted Ganlin around the rose garden at the same hour. “Did Elis pass you word about our talk yesterday?” he asked. He already knew, from the Squires, that notes had gone back and forth.

“She said not to be afraid of you,” Ganlin said. She gave him a glance under long lashes. “She said there was hope.”

“I know what her hopes are,” Kieri said. “But not yours. You are friends of old, I understand.”

Ganlin flushed. “We are. She is what I wish I were.”

“You are very like,” Kieri said.

“She is stronger and braver,” Ganlin said.

“You were limping the night you arrived,” Kieri said. “Were you injured on the way?”

“No, Sir King. I fell from a horse years ago—they said I might not walk again, but now it’s only when I’m tired that I limp. And I love to ride, like Elis.”

“That sounds like bravery to me … to ride again after a bad fall.”

“Outside is always better,” Ganlin said. “Well—except when it rains.”

“You were going to go to her when she had her horse farm?”

Ganlin hesitated, then nodded. “I would try, at least. She was going to be in the north of Pargun, next to the grasslands, but in the forest so there would be wood for the barns and house. But to get there from home—alone—I said I would, somehow, but—but I wasn’t ever sure.”

“It would be a difficult journey,” Kieri agreed. “Tell me, Ganlin, if I told your guardians I did not want to marry you, what would happen to you?”