The Summer Palace [Fantasy romance/enemies to lovers/new adult]

Chapter Seven

When I leave the confines of the tent the next morning, plenty of people are already milling about and packing everything up into horse-drawn boxes.

I can see everything more clearly in the morning light - we're in a large meadow surrounded by woods, where the collection of tents have been pitched like a small village. Soldiered men are walking to and fro, some with hands on their hilts and others carrying chests of drawers and armoires between them, hauling them onto carriages.

I didn't expect the Terian cohort to be quite so large. Prince Obryas' own entourage, who I ended up having to drink with last night, is small enough. I didn't realise he'd be bringing such a large collection of his palace staff, though.

A small group of girls emerge from the tent behind me, all in the same plain dress that I'd been lent. They whisper between one another, and though none of them look my way, I can't help but wonder if they talk about me: the strange Novelonian girl who appeared in the dead of night and who is now dressed up like them.

I feel as though I'm in an audience with the Queen and her Rose Circle - scoffed at and entirely out of my depth.

Lars finds me standing awkwardly with my arms by my side, deciding whether I should go back into the tent or if I might have a walk about the rest of the place.

"Emmeline," He grins, and it's at this moment - when I belatedly realise that he's speaking to me - that I decide I'm really not cut out for espionage.

"Lars," I say back to him, hoping I didn't leave too long of a pause.

He doesn't seem to notice. He's grinning in a way where I can tell he's trying to come off as friendly and put me at ease - probably for the best after the prince threatened me with him last night. I notice just how much more youthful he looks in the sunlight - his golden hair flashes in the sun, and his eyes are ridiculously blue. He's unblemished apart from a long scar that stretches from his ear, across his cheek, to his chin, giving his face the look of cracked porcelain.

"Did you sleep well?" He asks, and I'm glad for the small talk. I've been raised in the art of polite and courtly conversation. My mother spent far too long pushing the import of 'womanly' topics of discussion, so ever since I've avoided those particular topics like the plague. Perhaps though, in my current predicament, they might serve me well. That said, I'm not sure I have the know-how to launch into a diatribe on needlepoint.

"Yes, thank you," I say, "I found it all quite soothing, I might sleep in the woods more often."

It's a load of rubbish and I wish never to sleep in the woods again but Lars seems to find the idea charming.

"I used to camp beneath the stars when I was a child," he says, which can't have been that long ago. He looks little older than me.

"In Terian?" I ask him, as he leads me into a stroll. I'm not sure where we're going - I hope for something to eat. I can feel my stomach roiling at the very notion of breakfast.

"Outskirts of Valoran," he confirms, naming Terian's capital. "In the hills to the south. There are honey-lily fields there, and the Guida breaks off into streams."

"It sounds lovely," I say, and it's true. Despite the reputation of its leader, Terian is by all accounts a beautiful country. It's much larger than Novelon in size, and there's a lot more untouched land.

"You will have to see it, when you come to Terian," Lars guides me around the smoulders of a bonfire, the remains of some hog or other animal on a spit. I almost forgot that part of my concocted story - that I'm to leave Evallen with the Terian party and travel to their country.