"R-Red?" Cordelia echoed, reaching up to touch her cheeks.
Good heavens. They indeed felt much hotter than what she was used to. Surely she couldn’t be down with a fever already? They had barely even started the new day! Not to ntion, Cordelia still had a wedding — her own wedding, at that — to ruin! She couldn’t fall sick now.
"It must be the cold," she argued, though she doubted Jonah would accept that argunt easily. After all, her tone was sun-kissed and caral; it wouldn’t be reddened so easily by a re gust of wind.
"Of course, Your Highness," Jonah replied patronizingly, though Cordelia noticed the smile that curved his lips, one which he didn’t even bother to hide.
’Curse this man,’ Cordelia thought. He had much more ga than she had originally given him credit for. It seed like she must be more on guard than what she initially planned, or else she would be the one toyed by him instead.
Sir Jonah held out a hand to gesture in the direction of the street stalls. However, instead of following in the direction he pointed at, Cordelia boldened up and stepped forward, placing her hand at the crook of his elbow instead. She pressed herself a little closer against him, purposely making sure that his sleeve and the thin layer of her corset and his coat were the only things that separated their skins from touching.
Instantly, Cordelia felt him stiffen, and she silently rejoiced. Now, she was the one with the reins once more― just how she liked it.
"Where are we headed to next, Sir Jonah?" she asked, purposely lowering her tone just as she leaned in a little closer, her breath fanning right at the base of his neck.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he stared straight ahead, refusing to turn around to et Cordelia’s eye. Instead, he began to walk. Of course, Cordelia indulgently followed. She had all the ti in the world to play around with her food.
It was much more fun that way.
"The locals have set up street stalls to celebrate the festivities," Jonah said after clearing his throat.
He took in a deep breath before glancing in Cordelia’s direction, and when their gazes t, it was her turn to have her breath caught in her throat.
Sir Jonah had really pretty eyes, she realized. She knew it from before during their close encounter in the palace, but now that it was just the two of them strolling around town, she couldn’t help but examine him a little closer. Their faces were so close, and with how Cordelia was clinging onto his arm, they seed like lovers to the eyes of the passers-by.
His eyes were a srizing shade of erald green, like verdant adows bathed in sunlight. Flecks of gold sparkled within their depths, and with every glance, they seed to shimr with a serene and captivating radiance of pieces of jade.
For so reason, staring at them made her feel at peace. She had to remind herself that it was impolite to maintain eye contact for so long without saying a word, eventually forcing herself to turn away. When she did, she felt her cheeks heat up again.
Since she was pressed against Sir Jonah, she could feel his shoulders quake with laughter, even though his chuckles were soundless. True enough, when she looked up at him again, mirth danced in those forest irises of his.
"Perhaps you would fancy so breakfast, Your Highness?" he asked, nodding towards the pastry stalls. "Frostholm is well-known across Vramid for their pastries."
Cordelia bit her lip. If it was just the two of them out today, and her father’s pesky n weren’t around, perhaps she could afford to be a little bolder. She pulled the coat tighter around her body.
"If no one is supposed to know my identity, then perhaps you shouldn’t be addressing so formally," Cordelia said. "Just call ’Cordelia’."
Jonah’s eyes widened just a fraction before he nodded in understanding.
"Alright then," he said, "Cordelia."
Her knees nearly buckled. A string of profanities ran through Cordelia’s mind at a speed faster than King Atticus’s chard carriage. She had been with her fair share of n and spoken to more than dozens upon dozens of nobilities her father tried to wed her off to. Yet, no one had the charm or the allure of a simple knight.
The way her na rolled off his tongue so effortlessly, and how he gazed upon her as though she was the one who individually hung the stars in the night sky made her delirious. This was a perfect illusion― if Cordelia hadn’t known any better, she might’ve even thought that she was an amnesiac and had indeed sohow married Sir Jonah before this!
That was it.
She needed him to agree to be her partner in cri. There was no other man more fit for the job, and Cordelia wasn’t about to take a no from King Atticus of all people. He had already gotten lucky with having Daphne as a bride. Cordelia would be damned if she let him ruin sothing else for her again.
"I will be in your care then, Jonah," Cordelia said in reply, enjoying the flash of emotion that darted through Jonah’s eyes. If she had been standing any further away, she would’ve easily missed it. Yet, this close proximity allowed for plenty of things― so of which were not too good for her heart.
Gently, she tugged him in the direction of the pastry stalls, eagerly baited by the buttery aroma that wafted from the fresh goods. Despite the crowd of people, Cordelia made sure to hang on tight, unwilling to loosen her grip for even a fraction of a second. She was partly worried that they might get separated in the crowd, and also, she didn’t want to let go.
Jonah had been right. Frostholm could get a little cold, and night hadn’t even fallen yet.
Despite all of that, it seed like his hands provided her with just the warmth she needed to feel alive.
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