Page 14 of The Hopeless Romantic’s Guide to Enchantment

“I won’t apologize.”

“Good. I’d be disappointed if you did. Always protect the things you cherish, Princess.”

“My name is Dahlia.”

He frowned, crossed his arms. “Do dahlias grow here?”

I shook my head. “There are no flowers in the Edgelands. We’re too close to the ice, too cold even in summer. Trees, ferns, moss, grass in the high pasture. No flowers.”

“Then why are you named after one?”

“A storybook my mother had as a child about a girl who lived in a cottage in the woods surrounded by flowers. She talked to birds.”

“You don’t seem like the bird-talking type.”

“What do I seem like?” My voice was softer than I’d meant; it sounded like the voice of a woman who really, really wanted to know how a man saw her.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he said just as quietly. Something built between us, some unfamiliar fire, and he dipped his head, his gaze dropping as his lips moved toward mine.

He was going to kiss me, and despite the circumstances, I found myself moving forward.

“Get your filthy hands off of her.”

I jolted in surprise, looked back. Trevellyan stood behind us, a fire in his eyes and his lips curled into a grimace. I pulled my hand away; Darien’s fingers momentarily tightened, but he let me go then looked over at the intruder. “I don’t think she needs you to speak for her.”

Trevellyan took a step forward. There was sweat on his brow, and he smelled of alcohol, even from several strides away.

“You’re drunk, Trevellyan,” I said. “Go home.”

“You go home. You have no business here with these ruffians.”

“You should do as she suggests,” Darien said. “She’s got more brains than you.”

“Fuck you,” Trevellyan said. “This is all your doing. And now you’re sullying my princess.”

He lunged forward, and only then did I see the knife in his hand. The world seemed to slow, everything else around us frozen in place as he reached for Darien.

Enemies in every corner, I thought. And which, right now, was worse?

My father had managed a fragile peace – the only peace that ended with the Edgelands intact. An assassination attempt would rip that peace apart. If Trevellyan managed to kill Darien, his army might destroy the Edgelands out of spite. If Darien lived, he wouldn’t leave Trevellyan alive. Death was inevitable.

And then there was the other matter, the realization that sent a splinter of fear through my heart. I found I didn’t want Darien dead.

So I moved, putting myself between them, and saw the hatred in Trevellyan’s eyes shift toward irritation… then surprise… and when the blade punched through my abdomen – simul taneously cold and hot – horror and regret.

Darien called for guards as Trevellyan stared, looked down at his bloodied hand.

I looked at the handle of the knife protruding from my flank. “He stabbed me.”

“So he did.”

My vision grayed and I felt myself falling. It was Darien who caught me, who carefully gathered me into his arms. “Why in the name of the gods did you do that?”

“For the Edgelands,” I said.

And for some reason, for you.

* * *