Page 63 of The Witch Queen

Gavin stills. “Blodwyn, then.”

He lingers over the syllables of my name in a way that makes that annoying fluttering feeling start up in my stomach.

“So you really spent your time minding cattle before coming to court?” I ask, changing the subject.

“At times,” he replies. “I liked to be involved with our tenants. Occasionally, I’d even lend a hand with their crops and harvests. Not that my father agreed with such practices.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

Gavin shrugs, but his shoulders are tense. “He doesn’t consider it important to understand our people. He prefers me to be at court, working to improve our family’sstanding.”

The disgust in his voice is palpable, which I find interesting.

“If you hate court so much, why do you want to lead it?”

“To change things,” he answers simply. “Improve life foreveryonein Riven.”

Everyone. Gavin’s words strike an unfamiliar chord within me. For the whole of my life, the boundaries of my world have been either the walls of the White Palace or those of Aunt Margaret’s estate. Now I’m starting to wonder what, andwho,lies outside them.

“What are they like?” I ask. “Your tenants?”

“They’re like us,” he replies. “Just born without the privilege of a title. They want to live in peace. Feed their families. Have a say in their own futures.”

“That doesn’t sound unreasonable.”

“No. What’s unreasonable is—” He stops short, fisting the rag in his hands.

“Go on,” I prompt. “I may be a spoiled princess, but I’d like to hear it.”

“I never said…”

I roll my eyes. “Your opinion of me has been painfully evident.”

He reddens again. I stare him down until he continues.

“What’s unreasonable is a system in which a few people control everything,” he says at last. “Look at the party tonight. All that waste when there are others in Riven who are starving. Who have lost everything because of blighted crops. Or whose whole family has been wiped out by plague. We’re up here pretending they don’t even exist.”

Passion wafts from him in waves. I’ve never felt so strongly about anything, I realize. Not even hating Ayleth. I’m a little jealous. A little ashamed.

“This is why you challenged my claim,” I say softly.

He runs a hand through his hair again.

“Yes,” he admits. “Though, for what it’s worth, Iamsorry that you’re caught up in the middle of it.”

“Sorry enough to withdraw?”

I’d meant it as a joke, but Gavin clearly doesn’t take it as such.

“I have to do what I feel is best for Riven,” he replies instead.

The same thing Isabel said at the pall-mall game. Gavin’s meaning is the same as well—thatI’mnot what’s best for this realm. The reality of this situation crashes back into me. Gavin might have fought alongside me against the Nevenwolf, but that doesn’t change who he is or who I am and everything that stands between us.

“I should be getting back,” I say. My cloth plops into the water as I toss it in the bucket.

“Blodwyn—” Gavin starts.

“Don’t,” I interrupt. “I appreciate your assistance today, but we both know only one of us can win. You’ve made it clear that you don’t think it should be me.”