Chapter 375: A Date on the Water

Chapter 374: A Date on the Water

Princess Lyria was not sick.

Benedict knew that with absolute certainty.

She had only been forbidden from meeting with the suitors by the Queen, and he had little doubt that the order had been issued because of her conduct during the gathering at the arena. She had spoken in defence of the commoners, and Her Majesty had evidently decided that such boldness required correction.

The incident demonstrated, rather neatly, the extent of the Queen’s influence and the lengths to which she was willing to go in order to remind everyone of their place.

Unfortunately, it also meant that all of Benedict’s preparations had been entirely wasted.

There was no possibility that she would see him.

Worse still, he was currently on a date with Princess Jacinta.

It was a boat ride.

Benedict stared across the lake with the resigned expression of a man who had discovered that the Goddess possessed a particularly cruel sense of humour.

The lake stretched before them, calm beneath the morning sun. Its surface shimmered whenever the light struck it, broken only by the gentle disturbance caused by the boat. The oars dipped into the water at measured intervals, each stroke producing a soft splash before the vessel glided onward.

Reeds swayed along the banks, their slender forms bending with the breeze. Trees lined the shore, their branches extending over the water as though they wished to touch its surface.

It might have been beautiful.

Benedict was certain that someone else would have found it beautiful but he did not.

He disliked the sea.

He disliked rivers.

In truth, he disliked any body of water sufficiently large to carry a vessel.

It was not merely the possibility of falling in, although he had no particular desire to discover whether he could swim while wearing formal clothing. He disliked the smell.

More importantly, he disliked the movement.

The ground was supposed to remain beneath one’s feet.

That was one of the principal advantages of land.

Water, apparently, had decided that such a reasonable arrangement was beneath it.

The boat shifted slightly and Benedict’s stomach turned.

He drew a slow breath through his nose and looked towards the horizon.

He would endure it.

He could endure almost anything for the sake of courtesy.

Unfortunately, courtesy did not prevent seasickness.

Across from him, Princess Jacinta continued speaking.

She had been doing so for several minutes.

Benedict had no idea what she was discussing.

Something concerning the competition, perhaps. Or one of the other candidates. There had been a considerable amount of conversation about the competition since it had concluded, and Benedict had discovered that many nobles possessed an almost inexhaustible appetite for discussing matters that had already been settled.

His attention, however, was elsewhere.

Lyria.

His thoughts kept returning to her.

How could he see her?

Even if he could not take her on the date that had been arranged, he wanted at least to speak with her. He wanted to explain what had happened during their last meeting.

More importantly, he wanted to make certain that she had not been punished further.

The Queen had made her order clear according to what Benedict had been told.

No suitor was permitted to meet with Princess Lyria.

Defying such an order was not a trivial matter.

Benedict knew that.

He also knew that he intended to do it anyway.

The boat rocked again and Benedict’s jaw tightened.

Perhaps the Goddess was testing him.

If so, he considered the test unnecessarily elaborate.

"Are you listening, my lord?" Jacinta asked him.

Benedict blinked and looked towards her.

She was watching him with narrowed eyes.

"I beg your pardon, Your Highness." His tone was polite, though his mind was still only partially present. "I was rather lost in thought."

Jacinta tilted her head.

"What, precisely, could be so absorbing that it has claimed your attention while you are upon a date with me?"

There was a peculiar sharpness beneath the question.

Benedict recognised it immediately.

She was not merely curious.

She wanted to know what occupied his thoughts.

He offered her a courteous smile.

"I assure you, Your Highness, there was nothing of sufficient importance to warrant such an offence."

Her brows lifted.

"An offence?"

"I would hardly call it an offence," Benedict replied. "Though I concede that neglecting the conversation of a princess is perhaps not the height of good manners."

Jacinta’s expression softened slightly.

"I should hope not." She settled back into her seat. "I was telling you how impressive your duel was. I had already heard that you were a war hero, of course, but reputation and reality are not always acquainted with one another."

Benedict inclined his head.

"You are very kind."

"You fought remarkably well."

"I am pleased that my performance met with your approval."

"It did." She smiled.

Benedict returned the smile though it was not genuine.

"Then I am doubly honoured."

Benedict smiled politely.

Then the boat moved again.

His stomach lurched.

The earthy scent of the lake seemed suddenly stronger. The gentle rocking that had initially been tolerable had become profoundly irritating. He shifted slightly in his seat, hoping the movement would settle whatever was happening inside him.

It did not and the princess noticed.

"Are you unwell, my lord?" She asked him.

Benedict straightened immediately.

"I apologise, Your Highness."

His voice remained composed, although the effort required to maintain that composure was becoming considerable.

"I fear I am not particularly suited to boating."

Jacinta’s expression changed.

"Not suited to it?"

"Regrettably." He paused. "I have discovered over the years that large bodies of water and I are possessed of an unfortunate incompatibility."

Jacinta stared at him.

"An incompatibility?"

Benedict nodded solemnly.

"Quite."

For a moment, she simply looked at him.

Then the corner of her mouth twitched.

"That is perhaps the most peculiar way I have ever heard a gentleman say that he becomes seasick."

Benedict gave a faint sigh.

"I was attempting to preserve what remained of my dignity."

"I see." She glanced towards the boatman.

"Take us back."

The oarsman immediately nodded.

"Yes, Your Highness."

The boat turned.

Benedict felt an almost profound sense of gratitude.

The return journey seemed considerably longer than the outward one, though perhaps that was merely because he was now paying attention to every movement of the water.

He kept his gaze fixed upon the shore.

Land.

Solid, dependable land.

He had never appreciated it quite so much.

At last, the boat reached the pier.

The moment the vessel was close enough, Benedict rose and stepped onto solid ground with considerably more haste than royal etiquette might ordinarily have permitted.

He recovered himself immediately.

He straightened his coat, composed his expression and turned towards Jacinta.

Then he bowed.

"I am genuinely sorry, Your Highness."

Jacinta waved one hand.

"Think nothing of it, my lord. I should hardly wish to have you perish upon my account."

Benedict blinked.

"I assure you, Your Highness, I was not in any immediate danger."

"Your complexion suggested otherwise."

Benedict cleared his throat.

"I was merely... uncomfortable."

Jacinta smiled.

"Of course."

Benedict inclined his head.

"I thank you for your understanding."

"You are forgiven."

He gave her an appreciative nod before turning away.

For one thing, he was grateful he had become sick on the ride.

It had allowed him to escape faster than he had planned.

He had no intention of wasting the opportunity.

As he walked away from the lake, his thoughts returned immediately to Lyria.

The flowers were still in his chambers.

His training clothes were still waiting.

And, more importantly, the princess was still somewhere within the palace, separated from him by nothing more than an order issued by the Queen.

An order he had no intention of obeying.

He had to find a way to meet with Princess Lyria without the Queen finding out.