Hunted(66)

After all, it didn’t matter if the townsfolk were unsure about Yeva’s honor, or whether her fantastical tale was the truth. She wasn’t anticipating marriage proposals from any of them.

And then there was Solmir.

He visited daily, and though Yeva felt as fond of him as she’d been before her father’s death, she also couldn’t deny there was an odd gulf between them now. They’d grown close during their afternoon walks through the forest, checking Yeva’s traps and talking about hunting, but he seemed stiffer around her, uncertain of himself. At first she thought it might be her new reputation making him ill at ease, and after a week she finally found the courage to ask him about it.

“Will you not tell me what’s the matter?” Yeva burst out, after they’d sat in utter silence together under the peony tree, wrapped up against the autumn chill and watching the fire-gold leaves fall all around them.

Solmir started, looking for an instant like he’d forgotten Yeva was there at all. “What—what’s the matter?”

“You’re unhappy,” Yeva said softly, and though it was the first time she’d used that word even to herself, she knew from the look on Solmir’s face that she was right.

“No,” he said swiftly. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“I know. But you can be happy about a thing and sad about it at the same time. Feeling one thing in your heart doesn’t stop you from feeling another.” Yeva pulled her cloak more tightly around herself. If her time in the Beast’s castle had taught her nothing else, it was that anything—be it Beast or her own heart—could have more than one nature.

“I’m not unhappy that you’re safe,” Solmir said, so firmly he almost snapped the words. “Yeva, please. I’m only tired, and the baron is ailing, and I worry about him.”

Yeva swallowed. “I know he once planned on naming you his heir. And I know the rumors that have been circulating about me. For you to be tied to such a woman would surely hurt your chances of—”

“Enough of that!” Solmir scowled at her, the first flicker of real, bright emotion beyond that distant melancholy she’d seen. “If you think I give a damn—sorry—about the silly rumors people whisper in the streets, you must not think very highly of me.”

Yeva couldn’t help but smile, for he was his old self again just then. But then her smile faded and she sighed. “I do think highly of you,” she said softly. “I want you to be happy. Which is why—all I mean to say is that I don’t intend to hold you to a promise you made a year ago. You believed I was dead. For all I know, you’ve begun courting someone else, some other girl in the baronessa’s court.”

Solmir’s scowl smoothed, his face going blank. “You don’t want to marry me anymore?”

Yeva’s breath stuck in her throat, and as she saw hurt flickering behind that expressionless mask and her heart responded with a painful flutter, she realized she did love him. She loved him like she loved her sisters, like she loved Albe. She loved his heart, and his kindness, and the devotion he’d shown her family even after they all believed her dead. She didn’t love him as a wife loved a husband, but she knew she could learn to do so, that she could be happy with him. If it would make him happy.

“You saved my family,” Yeva said. “You helped my sisters through the winter even after you thought I was dead and would never fulfill my end of the promise.” Greatly daring, she reached out and took his hand. “I’ll do anything you ask of me.”

Solmir stared at her, his boyish face suddenly haggard. Weakly, his fingers squeezed hers back.

Yeva smiled. “Including releasing you from our engagement if that is what you want. You have your own reputation to think of, and I know that.”

Solmir was silent, watching her. Beyond him and around him the peony leaves fell, drifting to and fro like feathers on the wind. Yes, Yeva thought. I could love him.

But though she struggled not to, she found herself listening with all her might for the tiniest glimmer of a song in him, of the magic the Beast had taught her to hear. All she heard was the sighing rustle of a breeze through the branches, and the crunch of leaves as Doe-Eyes and Pelei frolicked in the back garden, and the distant ring of the blacksmith’s hammer in town, echoing back through the buildings.

And then Solmir’s voice, saying, “I want nothing more than to continue keeping your family safe, as I promised.” He squeezed her hand again, and this time there was strength to his grasp, and his smile was warm. “You are one of the most remarkable women I’ve ever known, Yeva, and it would be a fool who would let you go.” He lifted her hand, and Yeva’s heart flickered, and she waited for him to turn her palm over and kiss the inside of her wrist as he’d done that day in the forest. But he just brushed his lips against her knuckles, and then helped her to her feet and led her back inside.

Yeva dreamed that night of the peony tree. She was kissing Solmir beneath its branches, and its leaves fell around them like a rain of fire. His arms were around her and his palms pressed warm against her back, and all through her body ran a burning torrent she felt might consume her at any moment.

Solmir ducked his head to kiss her throat, then behind her ear, breathing in the scent of her hair and pulling her closer against him. Her head tipped back and she opened her eyes, and gasped.