Page 37 of A Fragile Enchantment

Yes,she wanted to say.I know exactly how you feel.

Niamh reached out and squeezed her forearm. “I can only imagine how difficult it is to live among those who have hurt your people so deeply. But you do not have to suffer just because others have. Your dream sounds very noble to me.”

“I think you can do more than imagine, Miss O’Connor.” Miriam smiled sadly. “You and I ought to stick together.”

Niamh beamed at her. “I’d like that.”

A shadow fell over them. Niamh craned her neck to see Sinclair standing there, shading his eyes against the sun. His cheeks flushed cherubically in the heat. “I bring grave news. I could not track down any lemonade.”

“And you dare return empty-handed?” Miriam asked teasingly.

“I’m terribly sorry, my lady.” Sinclair clasped a hand to his heart. “However, I’ve another idea. What do you say we conduct a rescue mission?”

He jerked his head toward Kit and Rosa, who sat side by side on a bench overlooking the river. Kit was managing to maintaina prickly distance from her, holding what Rosa had called a papelate—tobacco wrapped in maize leaves—between his fingers. She’d made some effort to please him, and Kit, who was above pleasing and being pleased, at least seemed to have accepted her gift without fuss. Rosa looked content enough to watch the swans paddle through the cattails. Her black parasol cast lacy shadows across her face.

Miriam’s smile turned mischievous. “Which of them do you suppose needs rescuing?”

Sinclair tapped his walking stick against the ground. “Both, definitely.”

“Probably true,” she mused. “Let’s go.”

“Please, go on without me.” Niamh retrieved her embroidery hoop from where she’d set it in the grass. She’d asked her assistants this morning to start on the lace for Rosa’s gown while she was out, but she could not depend on them for everything. “I really must finish this pattern.”

Sinclair plucked the hoop out of her hands.

Niamh gasped and scrambled to her feet. “Sinclair!”

He held it above his head so that she could not reach it, even if she stood on her toes and jumped. Foiledagainby her height. He looked far too pleased with himself. “I’m afraid this is urgent, Niamh. A day like this cannot enjoy itself.”

Groaning, Niamh followed them to the bench. In the shallows of the river, children splashed one another as servants filled jugs of water. Farther down, a woman fed a swan by hand—and shrieked when it bit her. Kit and Rosa, however, sat like twin shadows against the bright chaos of their surroundings.

“Hello, Your Highnesses,” said Sinclair. “Can we persuade you to take a turn, or will the sunlight make you catch fire, princess?”

“A few minutes of sunlight should be agreeable.” Rosa rose from her seat. Today, she’d threaded scraps of black lace and ravens’ feathers into her hair. She fluttered her fan over her face demurely,but Niamh could see displeasure glittering in her dark eyes. “The river was growing terribly dull.”

Miriam linked their arms together. “Then we shall have to play a game and keep that busy mind of yours at work.”

When they returned to their picnic blanket, Rosa immediately collapsed onto one of the cushions and sprawled out like a drowsing cat. Kit burned the last of his papelate down to nothing, and immediately lit another. Behind the haze of smoke, his jaw ticked. Niamh watched him from beneath her eyelashes, doing her very best to seem like she was not, in fact, watching him. He had not spoken to her all day, so she could only assume he was still angry with her for—of all things—calling him kind in the library. He could be so confusing sometimes.

Mercifully, Sinclair broke the silence first. “So, what were you lovebirds talking about?”

Rosa had already closed her eyes. She draped one elbow across her face and said blandly, “I was inquiring about his opinions on recent Parliamentary referendums and the upcoming election.”

“Oh?” Sinclair’s smile faltered.

“It was a surprisingly brief conversation.”

Kit’s shoulders bunched around his ears, his expression betrayed and fuming. “I haven’t kept up with politics.”

“It was my mistake.” Rosa spoke calmly, but their conversation had obviously frustrated her. “I’d forgotten you just returned home a few weeks ago. Your brother is kind to have granted you such a long tour. Four years, was it not?”

“I’m certain he would have liked it to be much longer,” Kit replied dryly. “I didn’t realize spares in Castilia had such extensive political duties.”

Rosa stretched, the very picture of indolence, but she sharpened her every word to a lethal point. “Spares? No, indeed. Save the Crown Prince, my dear brothers are military officers and clergymen and poets. But while I myself am not required to assist in mattersof governance, I like to know when and where to apply pressure when it is needed.”

Kit glowered. He clearly felt every ounce of the insult she intended. His voice oozed sarcasm. “And how is that dedication working for you? You and I are standing in the same place.”

“And your cynicism, sir?” she countered. “You have not escaped the world you so disdain.”