Page 99 of Lady Knight and the Thief

In Cypress’s experience, someone always needed food more than she did. She’d missed more meals than she could count and hated that children still starved in Grethnah.

Once more, shame washed over Cypress. Before all this, she had believed it was simply the way of things—that she was powerless to change it. A lie, she saw now. She could have tried. Sheshouldhave tried.

“No one goes hungry in A’aravos. Take the scone if you like it. There is always more coming from Fiathad’s kitchen.”

After a moment, Cypress nodded, offering Fiathad a small smile.

It was still hard to believe that the Wylds operated like this. Cypress often forgot how the Fair Folk treated each other. How they cared for their people and gave thanks to the land they lived on.

Humans, in contrast, destroyed trees and beasts without thought, leveling forests to build grand castles from stone.

It seemed barbaric compared to Faerie, where thriving depended on the trees and gratitude for the land.

When all this was done, Cypress didn’t think she’d ever be able to feel at home within Grethnah again. Not when this was available to her.

Not when a place called the Soul Reach waited for Cypress, her namesake trees encircling a castle. Despite still not feeling like a Duchess, she couldn’t wait to see the land that was supposed to be hers.

Cypress left the kitchen after thanking the cooks one more time. On her way out, Fiathad promised to deliver the remaining scones to her horse before her and Torren’s departure.

Just as she turned a corner and walked toward the gardens, the Prince himself appeared. He wore the same clothes as the night before. His dark hair was tousled, like someone had spent the evening running their hands through it.

She would know.

Cypress sighed and closed her eyes.

Not a word. She wouldn’t say a word about what happened. Torren made his stance clear by not coming after her and spending the night in someone else’s arms.

“Where you off to, Duchess?” Torren asked. His storm grey eyes roamed over her body.

“Gardens. I was going to wait for you there—and ask A'aravos to tell you where to find me…” Cypress trailed off, now feeling ridiculous for saying it aloud.

Would that have even worked?

That familiar rakish grin appeared on Torren’s face, and his eyes darkened. “Well, go on then. I’ll be ready soon, Duchess.”

Where were you? The question burned Cypress’s tongue, where she kept it locked behind her teeth.

Instead, she rolled her eyes.

“Thanks for the permission, Thief,” Cypress snapped and then walked away from him.

Maybe she let her hips sway a little more than usual when she felt Torren’s eyes on her receding form.

Once inside the gardens, Cypress removed her boots, set them aside, and then laid across one of the stone benches that was currently in a dappled pool of sunlight.

She’d learned her lesson the last time that she waited for Torren. There was no telling how long he would keep her that way.

Cypress draped her hair over the edge of the bench, fanning the strands out to catch more of the breeze. She hoped her hair would be fully dry by the time Torren was ready to leave.

She crossed her ankles, then folded her hands over her middle. Cypress closed her eyes and basked in the sunlight shining through the leaf ceilings of A’aravos Paravale.

Wake up. Open your eyes.

Like a bowstring pulled taut, Cypress snapped to consciousness.

“Good morning, Duchess.”

A flush of heat burst across her cheekbones.