Текст книги "The Heir "

Автор книги: Kiera Cass

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“Why haven’t we really talked before? It’s so easy.”

He shrugged. “You’re the one in charge here. What do you think?”

I looked down, embarrassed to say it. “I think I held Josie against you. The constant imitation drives me crazy.”

“I think I held the palace against you. It’s our parents’ fault, not yours, but I lumped you in since you were going to be queen.”

“I can understand that.”

“And I know what you mean about Josie. But it’s hard for her, growing up in your shadow.”

I couldn’t deal with adding Josie to the growing list of things I felt guilty about. I straightened my clothes, knowing that going to work would distract me. “Let’s do something soon. Not a date, just spending some time together.”

That crooked smile spread across his face. “I’d like that.”

He started tucking his shirt back in, and I fought the blush that I could feel on my cheeks. How had I gotten so out of control?

“And, listen,” he said. “Don’t let this stuff get you down. You’re bigger than the Selection.”

“Thanks, Kile.” I kissed his cheek and left, heading to my room.

I remembered how angry I was when I saw his name come up the day of the drawing, like I was being cheated somehow. Now I didn’t care how that form ended up in the pile; I was just glad it did.

I hoped that he felt the same way.

CHAPTER 26

TONIGHT WAS GOING TO BE a challenge. Yes, the pictures with Ean looked fantastic in print, and yes, the little game show clips came off as charming, but I wondered if Gavril would feel obligated to ask about Jack’s and Burke’s dismissals instead of focusing on the remaining candidates.

What was worse was that I wasn’t sure I had much to tell about the boys as it was. Dad was entering his security sweep, so unless the guards moved quickly, I wouldn’t have any dates this week . . . meaning nothing to share on next week’s Report. Tonight had to matter, and I wasn’t sure how to do it.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, like I was missing some key piece of information that would make the Selection process better.

It wasn’t an absolute disaster in my eyes, if only because I got to know Kile, Henri, Hale, and Fox. But as far as the public knew, nearly everything was going down in flames.

Even though I’d only glanced at the paper that day for a millisecond, I remembered the way I looked shrinking down on the parade float. Worse than that, I could still see people on the sidelines pointing and laughing. We’d kicked out two candidates this week alone for misconduct, and in their wake every romantic gesture had been completely overshadowed.

It looked so, so bad.

I sat in my room, sketching, trying to organize my thoughts. There had to be a way to spin this, to turn it into something good.

My pencil zipped across the page, and it felt like each time a line straightened out, so did a problem. I’d probably have to skip talking about my previous dates this week. Bringing up one would require me to bring up them all, and I didn’t want to rehash Jack’s hands on me.

But maybe, instead of events, I could talk about what I knew of the boys. There was enough to praise, and if I came across as enamored by their talents, it would make sense to be confused about who to choose. It wasn’t that the Selection was falling apart; it was that there were too many good choices.

By the time I had a plan, I also had a beautiful design. The dress came up into a halter, was very fitted, and ended mid-thigh. Over it I drew a sheer, long bubble of a skirt that made it look modest. The colors I’d used—a burgundy for the dress and a golden brown for the overskirt—gave it a delicious autumnal feeling.

I could imagine how I’d style my hair with it. I even knew what jewelry would look best.

As I looked at it, though, I knew this gown was more suited for a starlet than a princess. In my eyes, it was gorgeous without end, but I worried about other people’s opinions. More than any other season of my life, they really mattered now.

“Oh, miss!” Neena said, catching a glimpse of the drawing in passing.

“You like it?”

“It’s the most glamorous thing I’ve ever seen.”

I stared at the gown. “Do you think I could get away with wearing this on the Report?”

She made a face as if I should already know. “You’re basically covered from head to toe, and as long as you don’t plan on coating it in rhinestones, I don’t see why not.”

I petted the paper like I could almost really touch it.

“Should I get started?” Neena asked, a hint of excitement in her voice.

“Actually, could you take me down to the workroom? I think I’d like to help make this one. I want it for tonight.”

“I’d be thrilled,” Neena said. I grabbed my book and followed her into the hallway, more excited than I’d ever been.

It was worth the marathon of cutting and sewing when I walked in for the Report and the first thing I saw was the out-and-out envy in Josie’s eyes. I’d worn a pair of golden heels and curled my hair so it fell loosely over my shoulders, and it was possibly the most beautiful I’d ever felt. The blatant stares from the Selected only confirmed I was particularly lovely tonight, and I was so bewildered, I had to turn my back on them to suppress my grin.

It was then that I felt something was off. There was a pang of tension that seemed to be floating through the room, and it was far more powerful than the pride over my dress or the sense of admiration coming from the boys. It was so weighty, it nearly gave me a chill.

I looked around, searching for a clue. Mom and Dad were in a corner, trying to be discreet. I could tell by Dad’s tensed brow and Mom’s gestures that something was wrong. What I wasn’t sure of was if I could go talk to them. Was a few days of silence enough?

“Hey!” Baden had snuck up on me.

“Hi.”

“Did I startle you?”

I focused politely. “No, I’m fine. A little lost in thought. Do you need something?”

“Well, I was wondering if I could invite you out for dinner or something this week? Maybe another jam session?” He strummed an invisible guitar, biting his smiling lip.

“That’s sweet, but traditionally, I’m supposed to do the asking.”

He shrugged. “So? Didn’t that cooking thing happen because those guys invited you?”

I squinted, trying to remember. “Maybe technically.”

“So, since I didn’t grow up in the palace, I can’t ask, but Kile can?”

“I assure you, Kile has less of an advantage than you’d imagine,” I answered with a laugh, thinking of all the years of frustration.

Baden stood there, silent and unbelieving. “Sure.”

I was completely shocked when he walked away, hands in his pocket and footsteps steady. Had I done something rude? I was being honest. And I hadn’t actually turned him down.

I tried to shake off the snub, focusing on my duty for the evening: being charming and gracious, and trying to convince everyone that I was falling in love.

Dad passed me, and I gently grabbed his arm. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head and patted my hand. “Nothing, darling.”

The lie shook me more than Baden’s dismissal. People whirred around the room, giving commands and checking notes. I heard Josie laugh, and someone shush her immediately after. The boys talked to one another, all a little too loud to be considered appropriate. Baden was sulking next to Henri, ignoring everyone, and I pressed my hands to my stomach, calming myself.

Next to Henri, just offstage in the dark, I saw a waving hand. It was Erik, standing on the sideline, waiting to take his hidden seat. Once he had my attention, he gave me a thumbs-up, but the expression on his face let me know it was a question. I shrugged. He pressed his lips together, then mouthed the word sorry. I gave him a tight smile and a thumbs-up back, which wasn’t quite right but was the only thing I could do. Erik shook his head at me, and I was strangely comforted. At least someone seemed to understand how I was feeling.

Taking a deep breath, I went over to sit between Mom and Ahren.

“Something’s wrong,” I whispered to him.

“I know.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“Yes.”

“Will you tell me?”

“Later.”

I sighed. How was I supposed to perform with worry hanging over my head?

The updates were dispensed, and Daddy spoke briefly, though I couldn’t concentrate on anything he was saying. All I could see were the lines of stress around his eyes, the way his shoulders wore the strain of whatever was troubling him.

Partway through, Gavril stepped toward the middle of the set and announced that he had a few questions for the Selected, and I watched them all straighten their ties or cuffs and move into more assertive stances in their chairs.

“So, let’s see . . . Sir Ivan?” On the near side of the first row, Ivan raised his hand, and Gavril faced him.

“How are you enjoying the Selection so far?”

He chuckled. “I’d be enjoying it more if I could manage to get to see the princess one-on-one.” Ivan winked at me, and I felt my face set on fire.

“I imagine the princess has a hard time getting to everyone,” Gavril said graciously.

“For sure! I’m not complaining, just being hopeful,” he added, still chortling like this was all a joke.

“Well, maybe you can press Her Royal Highness tonight and sway her into making time for you. Tell us: what do you think the most important job of a future prince would be?”

Ivan’s laughing stopped. “I don’t know. I think just being good company is important. Princess Eadlyn is forced into lots of relationships for work, and I think it would be nice to be one of the people she always wanted to be around. Just for, you know, fun.”

I tried not to roll my eyes. You are a forced relationship, honey.

“Interesting,” Gavril commented. “What about you, Sir Gunner?”

Gunner was a bit on the short side, and he looked almost petite sitting beside the gangly Ivan. He tried to straighten himself, but it was no use.

“I think any future prince should be prepared to be available. You’ve already mentioned the princess’s busy schedule, so anyone in her life should try to put himself in a position to be helpful. Of course, I don’t know what that looks like yet, but it’s important to think of how your life and priorities might change.”

Gavril made an approving face, and Dad clapped, which led others to follow. I joined in, but it felt strange. This was a legitimate question, and I wasn’t sure I liked it being turned into entertainment.

“Sir Kile, you’ve lived in the palace your whole life,” Gavril said, walking across the stage. “How do you think your life might change were you to become prince?”

“I’d definitely need to focus more on my hygiene.”

“Pfffft!” I covered my mouth, so embarrassed, but I couldn’t stop laughing.

“Oh! Sounds like someone over there agrees.”

Behind Kile, Henri belatedly joined in the laughter. Of course, he’d heard the comment on a delay. Gavril noticed him and moved back.

“Sir Henri, yes?” Henri nodded, but I could see the pure terror in his eyes. “What’s your opinion on all this? What do you think a future prince’s most important role might be?”

He tried not to let his fear show as he leaned to the side to hear Erik. Once he understood he nodded.

“Oh, oh, yes. The preence should being for preensess . . . ummm . . .”

I stood. I couldn’t bear it. “Henri?” I called. All eyes turned to me, and I waved him over to come join me in the middle of the set. He carefully came down from his seat. “And Erik? You, too.”

Henri waited for his friend to come around from behind the set. Erik looked nervous, not prepared to be in the spotlight; but Henri mumbled something to him with a smile, and he eased as they found their way with Gavril to the front.

I linked my arm around Henri’s, and Erik stood just behind him, going into shadow mode.

“Gavril, Sir Henri was raised in Swendway. His first language is Finnish, so he requires a translator.” I motioned to Erik, who gave a quick bow, ready to go back into obscurity. “I’m sure Henri would be happy to answer your question, but I think it would be much easier without Erik hiding behind the risers.”

Henri smiled as Erik conveyed all this to him, and I felt strangely proud when he reached across and gently squeezed my arm.

Pausing to collect himself, Henri gave his answer. I could see he was thinking about his words, and even though he’d been thrown off, he was deliberate as he spoke. Finally, he came to a finish and all eyes fell on Erik.

“He says that any future prince should remember that it isn’t simply one role to fill but several. Husband, consultant, friend, and dozens more. He would need to be prepared to study and work as hard as Her Highness and be ready to set his ego aside to serve.” Erik put his hands behind his back, and I could see he was trying to remember the last of Henri’s words. “And he would also need to understand that there is a weight she carries that he never could and be ready to sometimes just be a clown.”

I giggled, happy to see Henri’s huge smile when Erik was done. The entire room erupted in applause, and I got up on tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

“Good, good.”

He beamed. “Good, good?”

I nodded.

“Your Highness, this is an extraordinary complication in the Selection process,” Gavril gasped. “How do you manage?”

“Right now, with two things: patience and Erik.”

There was a smattering of laughter across the room.

“But how could this work? At some point it would have to change.”

This was the first time in my life that I’d ever wanted to run over, grab my chair, and fling it across the room at Gavril Fadaye.

“Yes, probably, but there are certainly worse things than a language barrier.”

“Could you give us some examples?”

I motioned for Henri and Erik to go sit down, and worked very hard not to laugh at how quickly Erik moved. Henri gave me an affectionate smile as he left, and that inspired me.

“Well, since this began with Henri, let me use him as an example. We have to work hard to communicate, but he’s an incredibly kind person. Whereas Jack and Burke spoke perfect English but behaved rather poorly.”

“Yes, we all saw the story of Burke’s fight, and let me say, I’m happy to see you were unharmed by that outburst.”

Uninjured? Sure. Unharmed? That was questionable. But no one would want to hear about that.

“Yes, but they seem to be the exception, not the rule. There are so many candidates I could brag about.”

“Oh? Well, don’t let me stop you!”

I smiled and peeked back to the boys. “Sir Hale has incredible taste and works as a tailor. I would not be surprised to see all of Illéa covered in his designs one day.”

“I love that dress!” he called.

“I made it!” I yelled back, unable to contain my pride.

“Perfection.”

“See,” I said, turning back to Gavril. “Told you he had good taste.” I looked around again. “Of course, I’ve already mentioned Sir Baden’s musical skills, but they’re worth bringing up again. He’s so talented.”

Baden gave a quick nod, and, if he was still irritated, he was covering it well.

“Sir Henri, I’ve discovered, is an amazing cook. And it takes a lot to impress me in that department because, as you know, the palace chefs could rival anyone in the world. So trust me when I say you’re jealous of me because I’ve gotten to taste his food.”

More laughter filled the studio, and I caught a glimpse of Dad in a monitor looking so, so delighted.

“Sir Fox . . . now, some might not be aware of what a valuable skill this is, but he has the ability to make the best out of any situation. The Selection can be stressful, and yet he is always looking at the bright side. He’s a pleasure to be around.”

I shared a gaze with Fox, and, even with the gash on his head and his bruised eye showing slightly through the makeup, he looked as far from menacing as possible. I was glad I’d let him stay.

“Anyone else?” Gavril questioned, and I scanned the boys. Yes, there was one more.

“Most people have a hard time believing that I don’t know Sir Kile backward and forward because we’ve lived in the same place our whole lives, but it’s true. The Selection has allowed me to get to know him much better, and I’ve now learned that he’s a very promising architect. If we ever needed a second palace built, he’s the first person I’d call.”

There were some sweet sighs around the room at the idea of childhood friends finally becoming possible lovers.

“Although, I can confirm, he needs help in the hygiene department,” I added, sending the room into laughs again.

“It sounds like these are some truly amazing young men!” Gavril called, beginning another round of applause for them.

“Absolutely.”

“So, if you’re so impressed, I have to ask: has anyone got a special place in your heart just yet?”

I found myself fiddling with my hair. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, ho!”

I giggled, looking down. This wasn’t real . . . was it?

“Does it happen to be anyone you mentioned?”

I slapped his arm playfully. “Oh, my gosh, Gavril!”

He snickered, as did most of the room. I fanned myself with a hand and turned back to him.

“The truth is, it’s still difficult to talk about this so publicly, but I’m hoping to have more to say in the future.”

“That’s wonderful news, Your Highness. Let me join all of Illéa in wishing you luck as you look for your partner.”

“Thank you.” I nodded my head modestly and casually peeked over at Dad.

The expression on his face was one of disbelief, almost as if he was optimistic. It was bittersweet for me, to feel so unsure about the whole thing but to see that even the slightest glimmer of possibility took so much worry out of his eyes.

For now, that would be enough.

CHAPTER 27

“IT’S BAD.”

I lay on Ahren’s bed, curled in a ball while he sat upright, telling me everything Mom and Dad didn’t want to.

“Just say it.”

He swallowed. “It always seems to start in the poorer provinces. They’re not rebelling, not like when Mom and Dad were kids. . . . It’s more like they’re uprising.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“They’re rallying to end the monarchy. No one is getting what they want out of the caste dissolution, and they think we don’t care.”

“Don’t care?” I asked, astonished. “Dad’s running himself ragged trying to fix it. I’m dating strangers for them!”

“I know. And I have no idea where that performance tonight came from, but that was spectacular.” I made a smart face, acknowledging the praise, but I was starting to question just how much of tonight was planned and how much was genuine. “But even then, what are we supposed to do? Perform forever?”

“Ha!” I scoffed. “As if you’d ever be asked to perform. It would always be me, and I can’t. I feel like I’m suffocating as it is.”

“We could all step down,” he suggested. “But then what would happen? Who would take over? And if we don’t step down, will they run us out?”

“Do you think they’d do that?” I breathed.

He stared into the distance. “I don’t know, Eady. People have done far worse things when they’re hungry or tired or unwaveringly poor.”

“But we can’t feed everyone. We can’t make everyone earn the same amount of money. What do they want from us?”

“Nothing,” he said honestly. “They just want more for themselves. I can’t say I blame them, but the people are confused. They think their lives are in our hands, but they’re not.”

“They’re in their own.”

“Exactly.”

We sat in silence for a long time, considering what this meant for us. Truthfully, though, I knew it would hit me harder than anyone else if the people followed through on this. I didn’t know how things like this happened, but governments changed. Kingdoms rose and fell; entire ideologies took over, shoving others to the side. Could I be brushed into the gutter?

I shivered, trying to imagine a life like that.

“They already threw food at me,” I murmured.

“What?”

“I’ve been so stupid,” I answered, shaking my head. “I’ve grown up believing that I was adored . . . but the people don’t love me. Once Mom and Dad step down, I can’t imagine there would be anything preventing the country from getting rid of me.”

It was a tangible thing, like I was being held aloft by this idea, and now that I knew it was a lie, my body felt heavier.

Ahren’s face grew worried. I waited for him to contradict me, but he couldn’t. “You can make them love you, Eadlyn.”

“I’m not as charming as you or as clever as Kaden or as adorably rambunctious as Osten. There’s nothing that special about me.”

He whacked his head on his headboard as he groaned. “Eadlyn, you’re joking, right? You’re the first female heir. You’re unlike anything this country has ever known. You just have to learn how to use that, to remind them who you are.”

I’m Eadlyn Schreave, and no one in the world is as powerful as me.

“I don’t think they’d like me if they knew who I really was.”

“If you’re going to whine, I’ll kick you out.”

“I’ll have you flogged.”

“You’ve been threatening me with that since we were six.”

“One day it’ll happen. Heed my warning.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, Eady. The chances of people organizing enough to do anything are slim. They’re venting. Once they get this out of their system, things will go back to normal, you’ll see.”

I nodded and sighed. Maybe I was fretting for nothing, but I could still hear the hateful yelling during the parade, and I could still see the hateful remarks from my kiss with Kile. This certainly wouldn’t be the last we heard about abolishing the monarchy.

“Don’t tell Mom and Dad I know, okay?”

“If you insist.”

I hopped up and kissed Ahren’s cheek. I felt bad for girls who didn’t have brothers. “See you tomorrow.”

He grinned. “Get some sleep.”

I left his room with every intention of going back to mine. But as I walked, I realized I was hungry. Now that I’d been to the kitchens, I kind of liked it down there. I remembered seeing some fruit, and there was cheese in the refrigerator. Certainly it was late enough that it couldn’t bother anyone, so I trotted down the back stairs.

I was wrong in assuming that it would be completely empty. There were a handful of young men and women rolling out dough and chopping vegetables. I took it all in for a moment, entranced by how efficient and driven they were. I loved that, in spite of the hour, they all seemed alert and happy, chatting with one another as they went about their work.

They were so interesting that it took several moments for me to notice the head of floppy blond curls in the back corner of the room. Henri had hung his shirt on a hook, and his blue undershirt was covered in flour. I moved quietly, but as the staff recognized me, they curtsied and bowed as I passed, alerting Henri to my presence.

When he saw me he tried to brush the mess off himself, failing completely. He pushed back his hair and turned to me, smiling as always.

“No Erik?”

“He sleep.”

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

He squinted, trying to piece together the words. “Umm. Sorry. I cook?”

I nodded. “Can I cook, too?”

He pointed to the pile of apples and dough on the table. “You want? You cook?”

“Yes.”

He beamed and nodded. Then, giving me a once-over, he paused before grabbing his dress shirt and wrapping it around me, tying the sleeves together in the back. An apron. He wanted me to have an apron.

I smiled to myself. It was only a nightgown after all, but there weren’t enough words between the two of us to argue over it.

He picked up an apple and took the peel off in one long strip. When he was done, he set it on the counter and picked up a different knife. “Pidäveitsi näin,” he said, pointing to the way his fingers held the handle. “Pidäomena huolellisesti.” He turned his other hand into a claw, tucking his fingers away as he held the apple. Then he started cutting.

Even with my inexperienced eyes, I could see how he was using the minimum amount of force to do his work and how his simple stance protected his hands.

“You,” he said, passing me the knife.

“Okay. Like this?” I curled my hand up like he had.

“Good, good.”

I wasn’t nearly as fast as he was, and my slices weren’t half as uniform, but by the way he grinned, you’d have thought I made an entire feast by myself.

He worked with the dough and mixed cinnamon and sugar and prepped one of the fryers along the wall.

I wondered if he was in charge of desserts at home or if they were simply his favorite.

I helped toss the apples and stuff the dough, and though I was terrified of the hot oil, I did sink one of the baskets. I squealed when the oil came alive, popping and dancing all over the place. Henri only laughed at me a little, which was kind.

When he finally placed the tray in front of me, I was dying of hunger and nearly too excited to wait. But I did, and he gestured that I should try, so I plucked up one of the fritter-doughnut-pastry things and bit in.

It was heaven, even better than the rolls he’d made the other day. “Oh, yum!” I exclaimed as I chewed. He broke into a laugh and picked one up himself. He seemed pretty satisfied, but I could see in his eyes he was evaluating what he’d made.

I thought they were perfect.

“What are these called?”

“Hmm?”

“Umm, name?” I pointed to the food.

“Oh, omenalörtsy.”

“Ohmenalortsee?”

“Good!”

“Yeah?”

“Good.”

I smiled to myself. I’d have to tell Kaden I was seriously mastering the names of several Swendish desserts.

I ate two, feeling a little sick once I was done, and then I watched as Henri passed the plate around to the cooks, who all praised his skills. In the deepest core of myself, I hated that he didn’t understand the words they were using.

Delectable. Flawless. Perfection.

I got the sense that if he had understood, he’d have said they were being too generous. It was hard to be sure though. That was just my assumption about who he was. I really didn’t know.

And, I reminded myself, you don’t want to.

There were times when it was getting harder and harder to remember that.

When Henri finished his rounds and the plate came back with hardly a crumb left, I gave him a shy smile.

“I should sleep.”

“You sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Good, good.”

“Um. Tonight? The Report?” I asked, trying to keep things simple.

He nodded. “Report, yes.”

I placed my hand on his chest. “You were so sweet.”

“Sweet? Umm, the sugar?”

I laughed. “Yes. Like sugar.”

He brought his hand up to cover mine as it was still pressed against his heart. His smile dwindled as he looked at me and swallowed. He shrugged as he held me there, seeming only to want to make the moment last. He held my hand for the longest time, and I could see he was sorting through words in his head, trying so, so hard to find one that he knew I might understand. . . .

But there was nothing.

I wanted Henri to know that I saw what he felt. I could tell in every smile and every gesture that he really cared about me. And, despite my best efforts, I cared about him, too. I worried about how much I would regret it, but there was only one way to express that feeling.

I closed the distance between us and placed a hand on his cheek. He stared into my eyes as if he’d discovered something truly valuable, something rare that he might never see again. I nodded slowly, and he lowered his lips to mine.

Henri was scared. I could feel it. He was afraid to touch me, afraid to hold me, afraid to move. I didn’t know if it was because I was a princess or because he’d never done this before, but that kiss was so vulnerable.

That made me love it even more.

I pressed my lips into his, trying to tell him without words that this was okay, that I wanted him to hold me. And finally, after a moment of hesitation, he responded. Henri held me like I was delicate, like if his grip was too tight, I’d crumble. And his kisses were the same way, only now, instead of being driven by fear, they were motivated by what felt like reverence. It was an affection almost too beautiful to endure.

I pulled away, slightly dizzy from the kiss, noting that his eyes looked pained, but he wore the tiniest smile.

“I should go,” I said again.

He nodded.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

I moved slowly until I was out of his sight, then I ran. My head was swimming with thoughts that I didn’t understand. Why did it bother me so much when Gavril picked at Henri? Why did I have to keep Fox when he should have left? Why did Kile—for goodness’ sake, Kile!—keep popping into my mind?

And why was it so terrifying even to ask those questions?

When I got to my room, I flung myself into bed, feeling disoriented. As angry as I was at Gavril for bringing it up, it did bother me that I couldn’t speak to Henri, that I couldn’t communicate anything intimate to him because of how uncomfortable it would be to go through Erik. As unnerved as the thought made me, if I was going to tell anyone something personal, it would probably be Henri. I felt safe around him, and I knew he was smart, and I admired his passion. Henri was good.

But I didn’t speak Finnish. And that was bad.

I rolled over onto my back in frustration, yelping when something dug into my spine. Reaching around, I felt that it was a knot. I was still wearing Henri’s shirt.

I untied it and, despite how absurd it was, pulled it up to my nose. Of course. Of course he smelled like cinnamon and honey and vanilla. Of course he smelled like dessert.

Stupid Swendish baker with his stupid spices.

This was making me asinine!

This was why love was a terrible idea: it made you weak.

And there was no one in the world as powerful as me.