Traitor's Masque by Kenley Davidson Page A

much as a month. The girl beside him was obviously educated, and probably accomplished as well, though not, Ramsey reflected with amusement, for want of attempting to avoid it.
    With every word, he grew more determined to unravel the mystery he knew was better left unsolved. Who was she, and why did she hide? What drove her to sacrifice her reputation by disguising herself as a man and riding alone?
    It served, at least, to distract him from his own despair.
    Choose a wife, his father had said, or I will choose one for you. The guilds were insistent, his brother insouciant, and his friends sympathetic, but no one seemed to care what he wanted. The best he could hope for now was to choose a wife his own way. Even if the prospect filled him with nothing but foreboding.
    If only he had more time. If only he could afford to make a choice that had less to do with his kingdom and more to do with his heart. This girl… she made him wonder what he might be missing, by entering into a marriage of state. But of all his “if-only’s,” the one that weighed the heaviest was Rowan. If only Ramsey was not bound to make up for all of Rowan’s mistakes. Perhaps then he could consider marrying someone unexpected, someone who might not be precisely what his father and advisors had in mind.
    But as his father had so recently reminded him, Ramsey was to be king. The only thing he was truly free to do was to think of his kingdom first, and a girl whose dress and behavior would be considered a scandal by the court was not what the already divided kingdom needed.
    For a time, the two rode side by side, following paths that wound in more or less the right direction through the wood. But at last, when they reached an undistinguished forking, Ramsey forged briefly ahead and blocked the way, pulling his horse to a stop with a serious expression.
    “There is still a place I would be pleased to show you, if your time permits. I promise it will take only a moment, and then you can be on your way.”
    The girl glanced up as if to see the sun, but the trees were too thick for a very clear sense of the time.
    “I believe it is just after midmeal,” he added, “if that aids in your decision.”
    “In that case, Sir Villain,” she intoned gravely. “I would be most pleased to visit your lair. Lead and I will follow.”
    His laugh mingled with hers as she trailed behind him down the narrower path he took. It led deeper into the trees, then disappeared altogether, only to reappear behind a pile of boulders. A few moments later, he stopped, dismounted and beckoned wordlessly. After both horses were securely tethered, the girl walked silently behind him through a thicket and around an enormous oak… and into what had always seemed to Ramsey to be a different world. His private refuge. The heart of the Kingswood.
    A pool lay in front of them, small but deep, ringed by moss-covered rocks and surrounded thickly by ancient trees. Ferns grew lush and green from the craggy boulders, interspersed with lupin and phlox, while pink and white water lilies bloomed from the margins of the pool. It was so still that the water lay calm and clear as glass, the lazy white clouds reflected on its mirror-bright surface mingling with the wavering shadows that lay beneath.
    Ramsey stole a glance at his companion’s face, feeling absurdly nervous as he watched her absorb the peaceful scene, hoping she would understand, but unable to put into words what he offered. Neither of them spoke, as though in silent agreement that words might destroy some part of the moment’s perfection, but when their eyes met for a brief instant, Ramsey had his answer.
    After they lingered there a few moments more, he touched her arm and led her back to where the horses were waiting.
    “Why?” she asked.
    There was no need to elaborate. Why had he chosen to share something so personal with a girl he barely knew? “Because,” he answered helplessly, “it’s all I can give you.” He paused.