His step bounced. “I knew we were of the same mind. And heart. Miri, I should confess something. I don’t want to lie to you, not the way the robber princess did. I already completed my open-sky year. I enrolled in Master Filippus’s class just so … so I could meet you.”
They were passing through the light of a lamppost, and Miri was glad to reenter the dark and hide the expression on her face.
“Is that true?” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said. “I heard that a graduate from Mount Eskel’s princess academy was enrolling, so I asked my father to send me back. I was curious to meet you. But … curiosity has long since been replaced by stronger emotions.”
“Oh! Um … I should tell you … maybe I misunderstand … but I just wanted to say … you might want to know about Peder. He’s a boy. From Mount Eskel. And he’s my …”
My what?
“Your betrothed?” Timon said.
Now Miri’s face felt as red as a firebrand and no shadow could hide it.
“No.”
“Aren’t you of age?”
“Yes,” Miri said miserably.
“Then he hasn’t asked … and yet you still feel committed to him? Well, whatever he feels for you can’t be as strong as what I feel. He met you on Mount Eskel, where you were just one of a few girls. I chose you out of the entire kingdom.”
Miri became uncomfortably aware of the pounding in her chest. “Even though it isn’t spoken, Peder and I do have a commitment. I mean, I think we do.”
“I am not giving up so easily,” said Timon. “This boy has not seen fit to speak. But I will speak for you, Miri. You blush because I’m too bold! I’ll be bolder still. Together we will change Asland. And then Danland. For our wedding, my father will give us a ship. We’ll sail to Rilamark and Eris, explore coasts with white sand and crystal waters and trees dripping with fruit. We’ll befriend scholars in faraway universities, and everywhere we go we will change things.”
She could see all he promised, as if actors on a stage portrayed the adventures of Miri and Timon. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “I can’t do all that, Timon. I’m from Mount Eskel.”
“We choose who we are. The name, rank, and affluence of your parents, the feather in your cap—none of that matters. You are your own person. I am not my cold, ambitious father. And you, Miri, are not bound by your birth. You can be who you will.”
Is that true? she thought. I am not simply Laren’s daughter or Marda’s sister or the girl my mother held for a week before she died. I am not formed from the mountain alone. I am the girl who left the mountain. I am the face in the mirror, the thoughts in my head. I am not made of them. I am me.
“You can be who you will,” he repeated. His voice softened. “And if you will have me, I will be the one beside you.”
He did not ask for an answer to his proposal, and she did not feel ready to give one. But he leaned down and kissed her lips. She forgot to startle away, she forgot to blush, she forgot to do anything but hold her breath and feel cold and hot like lightning shoot through her. The kiss lasted just one beat of her heart, though it felt as long as a night.
She could not dismiss that kiss as an innocent lowlander custom. She knew exactly what it meant.
He put her hand back on his arm, and in silence they walked their usual path to the palace.
She was accustomed to the city now: the hiss of the kerosene lanterns on the posts, the grumble of cart wheels on cobblestone, the chill in the breeze when it lifted off the river, the salt tang when it stretched from the sea. The buildings and thoroughfares did not panic her. The endless books of the Queen’s Castle library thrilled her, as did one word: revolution.
But this was not home. Was it?
She repeated to herself her plans for the future: speak for Marda so she might wed, help Pa learn to read, teach in the village school, and one day marry Peder.
Why did those ties to home feel thinner now?
They were passing through the light of a lamppost, and Miri was glad to reenter the dark and hide the expression on her face.
“Is that true?” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said. “I heard that a graduate from Mount Eskel’s princess academy was enrolling, so I asked my father to send me back. I was curious to meet you. But … curiosity has long since been replaced by stronger emotions.”
“Oh! Um … I should tell you … maybe I misunderstand … but I just wanted to say … you might want to know about Peder. He’s a boy. From Mount Eskel. And he’s my …”
My what?
“Your betrothed?” Timon said.
Now Miri’s face felt as red as a firebrand and no shadow could hide it.
“No.”
“Aren’t you of age?”
“Yes,” Miri said miserably.
“Then he hasn’t asked … and yet you still feel committed to him? Well, whatever he feels for you can’t be as strong as what I feel. He met you on Mount Eskel, where you were just one of a few girls. I chose you out of the entire kingdom.”
Miri became uncomfortably aware of the pounding in her chest. “Even though it isn’t spoken, Peder and I do have a commitment. I mean, I think we do.”
“I am not giving up so easily,” said Timon. “This boy has not seen fit to speak. But I will speak for you, Miri. You blush because I’m too bold! I’ll be bolder still. Together we will change Asland. And then Danland. For our wedding, my father will give us a ship. We’ll sail to Rilamark and Eris, explore coasts with white sand and crystal waters and trees dripping with fruit. We’ll befriend scholars in faraway universities, and everywhere we go we will change things.”
She could see all he promised, as if actors on a stage portrayed the adventures of Miri and Timon. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “I can’t do all that, Timon. I’m from Mount Eskel.”
“We choose who we are. The name, rank, and affluence of your parents, the feather in your cap—none of that matters. You are your own person. I am not my cold, ambitious father. And you, Miri, are not bound by your birth. You can be who you will.”
Is that true? she thought. I am not simply Laren’s daughter or Marda’s sister or the girl my mother held for a week before she died. I am not formed from the mountain alone. I am the girl who left the mountain. I am the face in the mirror, the thoughts in my head. I am not made of them. I am me.
“You can be who you will,” he repeated. His voice softened. “And if you will have me, I will be the one beside you.”
He did not ask for an answer to his proposal, and she did not feel ready to give one. But he leaned down and kissed her lips. She forgot to startle away, she forgot to blush, she forgot to do anything but hold her breath and feel cold and hot like lightning shoot through her. The kiss lasted just one beat of her heart, though it felt as long as a night.
She could not dismiss that kiss as an innocent lowlander custom. She knew exactly what it meant.
He put her hand back on his arm, and in silence they walked their usual path to the palace.
She was accustomed to the city now: the hiss of the kerosene lanterns on the posts, the grumble of cart wheels on cobblestone, the chill in the breeze when it lifted off the river, the salt tang when it stretched from the sea. The buildings and thoroughfares did not panic her. The endless books of the Queen’s Castle library thrilled her, as did one word: revolution.
But this was not home. Was it?
She repeated to herself her plans for the future: speak for Marda so she might wed, help Pa learn to read, teach in the village school, and one day marry Peder.
Why did those ties to home feel thinner now?
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