Ash finds Cedar parging the chinks on the exterior of her cabin with a pail of wet black clay hanging from her arm. Her face and clothes are splattered in mud.
“Need some help?” His eyes dance with merriment.
Cedar shakes her head, not looking away from her task.
“Looks to be more on you than the house,” he teases. This earns him a glowering look. He takes it as a success.
“A few more splatters, maybe here and here,” he reaches forward to touch her forehead and cheek, then stands back as though assessing her look, “and the outfit will be complete.”
She glares again, this time long enough to meet his eyes.
He frowns. “What’s wrong?”
Her expression softens, and she starts to speak, but all that comes out is a strangled sort of sob. She looks away with a jerk, slapping the mud onto the building.
Ash weighs his next words.
“You’re upset…that I am leaving?” he asks.
“Your brother asked to buy my maps.” Her next slap of mud on the house is vigorous enough to splatter speckles of mud on them both.
He stares at her, comprehension unfolding.
“I did not tell James about your maps,” he says.
Cedar looks away, searching for another chink in the wood logs of the cabin. Her face warms with embarrassment.
“I am sorry,” she murmurs.
Ash should not expect her trust, but it still hurts that she would doubt his word. Her readiness to believe him eases the pain, and he stops his own wayward thoughts and studies her.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
Cedar looks at him, opening and closing her mouth several times before finally saying, “Things are changing so fast.”
“The north is supposed to be out of King Marcus’s reach.”
“It’s more than that. He’s not the only threat.”
Ash’s capacity for silence surprises even him. He wants to make her tell him what she means, but long moments go by and she says nothing. There are no smiles from him now, only intense gravity. There is no possibility of taking his next words as a joke.
“Come south with me.”
Cedar’s expression changes to bewilderment, and even Ash hears the ludicrousness of what he is saying.
He does not take back his words. “I can help you get there, find you a music teacher.”
“How would I pay for lessons? Where would I live?”
The south is already a place of growing destitution, where even the current residents struggle to find work. Ash knows this, but his optimism is hard to shake.
“I will help you find a place. I can find you a job too.” He has friends, after all, and connections. He is a prince. He starts to say this to Cedar, but cannot find the words to begin.
“I…I barely know you, Ash,” she says.
Ash, likewise, is reminded of how little he knows Cedar. He does not know what cruelty fate has inflicted upon her childhood, or what demons haunt her dreams. He does not know what she wants from life. He suspects she does not know either.
Regardless, he knows enough to know he would never regret spending time discovering her secrets, all that she is. He wants to tell her this, but her eyes pierce him with a pleading quality, as though begging him not to.
“Leaving your home would be difficult. I am your friend, and will be no matter what your answer is.” He swallows the other words he wants to say.
He cannot know the relief his words have on her.
“I want to stay here.” When her words hit him, he struggles to comprehend them. “I will still be here in the spring,” she adds, looking at the ground.
“Cedar…are you sure?”
When she glances up at him, her smile is shaky and her eyes are wet.
He reaches out to touch her arm. She steps out of reach and he lets his hand drop.
“Will you be safe?” he asks.
“Yes, yes of course. Grandma is well respected here. I was overreacting. Probably your brother shook me up more than I’d realized. What does he want with my maps anyway?”
Feeling the sting of her withdrawal, Ash runs his thumb along the tips of his fingers where he had briefly touched her arm.
“I’m not sure. He won’t talk to me.”
Cedar shrugs. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. I told him no.”
“At the risk of sounding disloyal to my brother, it is good you did.” Ash’s voice sounds far off, even to himself. His thoughts are a jumble of rejection and confusion, swinging between Cedar and James.
He turns his attention to Cedar for one final moment.
“I am going to miss you. I am coming back next spring. I know I will see you again. That doesn’t make leaving any easier.”
He turns to leave, but her hand on his arm stops him. She moves towards him, arms encircling his middle, her cheek pressing against his shoulder.
His arms close around her. “You make me believe in happiness again Cedar.”
He pulls away and walks into the trees.