The curve of her mouth lifted into a smile at his dry banter about her biting wit. Twisting her head, she braced her chin against her shoulder looking downward as she watched him gather the reins of his horse next to her. When he relaxed there was a pleasantness about him that was unrivaled, the flow of easy conversation filled the air between them like some invisible string connecting them in their interaction. She feigned a grimace for him, her dark, doe eyes twinkling with puckish mischief. A hiss of air escaped. “Ouch…,” Her voice dipped quietly lower. “And here I thought I was really just starting to win you over. Guess I'll have to try harder.” The pint-sized Leventi smirked at him a moment longer before baiting him with tiny fibs about gray hairs.

‘...No?’ It was the way he’d muttered it, she bet his fingers were itching to run a ragged line through his hair in a silent inspection that his hairline had not started receding as well. She teased him a bit more, going so far as to call him Pokey. It was a rather delightful little nickname, full of character and teasing humor. The scowl that had formed on his face only made her smile wider because it did indeed bring further attention to the soft lines of his face.

‘What did you just call me?’ A laugh burst out of her and she shook her head causing the undecided brown hair in her ponytail to swish from side to side. ‘You know, you have an impertinent tongue for one in the company of her elders and betters.' That brought forth another ripple of laughter from her as she ducked her chin. He really was making teasing him a delightful game.

“Your hearing going too, Pokey?” Dimples were showcased as her bright and lively gaze settled sideways on him beneath her bristly lashes. “At least you have finally accepted the fact that you are an elder. You should make sure to get a nice pair of slippers to ward off the cool evenings coming… maybe a blanket and a nice chair that rocks.” Settling deeper into the saddle she let the reins drop onto the neck of Altair, his big, swinging walk the equivalent to her idea of a rocking chair. It was something she could have gotten lost in and never returned. There wasn’t anything quite like the freedom there was on a horse.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head up a little towards the sunlight. She’d probably freckle for it but who cared, it was worth it to bask in the glow. Without opening her eyes, “As for my impertinent tongue, aren’t you married to a Leventi? I’d have figured you’d be used to such...audacity as mine.” Evangelina had never considered herself really special among the family. She was a skilled enough rider, and perhaps there was something that could be said for her ability to see the inside the soul of a horse but those were all things she took for granted compared to some of the extraordinary gifts in her family. He’d fallen in love with such a woman who possessed such gifts. So for that, Evangelina didn’t figure that she had to wear that perfect Leventi mask. The one court saw, she was simply Evie, just one of the Leventi’s consigned to live in Theo and Selene’s world. That sounded much worse than it was, Evangelina was happy enough not stuck out in the limelight for the world to judge. There were perks to being a wallflower…

‘How do you suppose you will like Meganea?’

Evangelina’s eyes opened and she glanced over at him, a moment of uncertainty wavering there in her gaze but not for the reasons that he would suspect. She licked her lips, her eyes softening as she looked back in front of her taking a moment to think about the question.

“I think that a part of me will always find comfort in the open, rolling plains of Acharist.” There was a faintness to her voice, a raw honesty that she didn’t share often. “Meganea is beautiful. I think it’ll be hard not to fall in love with the beauty of the sheer cliffs and deep forests. I think there is a wildness to the place that I could get lost in…” Her voice drifted and she hazarded a hard to read look in his direction. She pressed her lips together searching his face for answers, “But that’s just it… What if I get lost there.” Achilleas would be able to read there in her voice that she meant it on a deeper level than simply wandering off into the wilderness never to be seen again. The lines on her face softened and she sighed a little laugh, “I bet you are wishing you hadn’t asked that now… The simple answer is: Yes, I think I will like Meganea very much.”

Withering looks had stopped phasing her by the ripe age of six and by thirteen she was more than accomplished in dealing her own glares. That’s what happened when you were a Leventi and you learned from masters like her uncle. She ignored the look partly because, for one, she hadn’t felt any real bite in his comments to her and, two, while withering looks were meant to intimidate she tried never to react simply on the fear of something. Fear led you astray too often. It made you desperate and desperation clouded your judgement. Things that you thought you knew that you stood firmly on or against, desperation would settle over those things like a thick and heavy fog causing you to lose your way or lead you astray. No, fear was something Evangelina had stopped acting on a long time ago.

They settled into the ambling walk with a light banter and contentment warmed her from the inside out. ‘Right, yes.’ His mild, amusement evident in his tone. The dry sense of humor of the prepossessing King was well met with her rather sardonic jokes, he was easy to be around… there was something rather pleasant about him, despite his clipped and guarded nature. ‘Foolish of me not to recognize it as a trait bred into you all.’ Shifting a glance over to him, she met his too-blue of eyes and his bland smile as he spoke, it generated the lavish bow of her lips to rise into a wolfish smile of her own before she slowly pulled her gaze back to the path ahead of them and let that smile say the things that words couldn’t have.

It was this deep-seated ease he put her in that had her opening up and letting down her own guards with him. Letting her speak of things that weighed on her mind and left her wondering if she’d figure the answers out immediately or if they’d be something that would sneak up on her over time. One thing was for certain, she’d get the answers… it was just a matter of when and where… and who she’d been when she got them.

His silence was unsettling, there was tromping all over eggshells and then there was pushing too much, too quickly. Had she done that? Had she exposed too much that it would have become awkward and stilted now? Was he trying to search for the polite thing to say to her that would both reassure her and also not step out of this perfect little mold he’d created for himself? That’s what he’d done. And while she’d not discovered what exactly that crack in his veneer was she was certain that it was there because the only time anyone was this perfect… this golden was when they were hiding something. Something they didn’t want the rest of the world to see or learn… something dark or maybe well… something that that was a bit like a thorn in their paw. Regardless, it was something important… something worth hiding and keeping the world from seeing and it was something so deeply rooted within him that he was afraid of what he would be if other’s knew.

Her eyes had darkened slightly in the silence of her thoughts. Sadly, she could understand it. Sometimes you held so tightly onto the secrets or insecurities or… the darkness that you were afraid of what would be left of you if it wasn’t there. Sometimes, the armor wasn’t to protect you from getting hurt. Sometimes, the armor protected you from hurting others. Without thinking, her dark doe-eyes shifted to him again. But that was another question for another day. Was he worried of being hurt? Or was he worried what would happen if he didn’t have his armor on?

His gentle voice broke her thoughts and brought her back to the topic at hand, ‘Not at all, I was just thinking that maybe it is the opposite and you would find yourself at home there rather than in Vasiliadon.’ She blinked for a moment and then smiled faintly at him before looking back to the path in a signal for him to continue with where he was going. ‘You can put some good blood into those mountain ponies they have over there.’ She found herself, craning her head and staring curiously at him. Of all the people that knew her, he really knew her. Not even Gavriil had seemed to have seen the whole big picture that she’d been painting with this marriage.

‘Besides,’ He continued so nonchalantly as if he had just revealed her grand scheme to her like some sort of political powerhouse who’d just flipped the board upon their opponent. She pressed her lips together, she had a funny feeling that maybe he was learning her games too quickly. ‘You will be forced to come back often enough for whatever such events. If we do not see you at too many, I will dispatch a runner to ensure you are not fading away in your clifftop manor. Satisfied?’

“And should the runner find that I am in fact fading away in some type of clifftop manor, are you vowing that you’ll come along on you big white horse and save me like the good sort of friend that you are?” Her mouth had quirked upwards and she had bent her head to watch him as she teased him a bit more. “Ask me nicely and I’ll let you fade from existence up there too, after all heavy is the head that wears the crown, right?”

Shifting in the saddle, she reached down for the reins just as Altair snapped his head downward to grab at a long strand of grass as if she’d sensed it from him before he’d managed to execute his plan. Biting her lip, she stole another glance at him, “Vasiliadon has never been my home. Nothing about that city puts me at ease, you know.” The same couldn’t be said for her cousins, they’d always relished the faster paced society and endless things to be done in the city. She was entirely in her element right now. The open space and a good horse beneath her, perhaps a comely riding companion to keep conversation interesting and witty, that was all she asked for.

“Coming to Vasiliadon wasn’t my choice, it was my Uncle’s.” She shifted again, settling back into a more relaxed deepness in her seat. “Right after…” Her words stalled for the briefest of moments, “Right after everything happened, he decided the tranquil life in Acharist was robbing the court of my…” The corner of her lips curled up with sarcasm as she glanced over him, “Charm, grace, and… er...” Her lips widened into a larger smile, “Beauty, of course.”

Her smile slowly faded and she haphazardly shrugged, “Actually, I think he realized that while I may not have a line of suitors waiting in a line around the front door and down the drive, I had quite a few less knocking down the doors in Achairst.” There wasn’t any bitterness in her voice about that fact, just a simple statement. Fotios wanted her married. She wanted to remain in Taengea, so she’d taken matters into her own hands and so there was Gavriil. No great love story to be imagined up like there was for Achilleas and Theodora, or some grand almost-secret passion of Stephanos and Olympia. It was simply that Gavriil and herself were headed in the same direction and it made more sense to travel that path together.

Her lips curled in amusement as her voice lilted into an almost chuckle as she admitted her plans, “How’d you know I had plans for those mountain ponies?” Her gaze had fallen curiously back on him after she’d asked, running over the highs and lows of the planes of his face. “Even Lord Gavriil doesn’t realize half the reason I am marrying him is for those mountain ponies.”

“On the contrary, you’ve a kingdom full of horses,” Evangelina countered with an easy chuckle meeting his glance before she simply smiled and looked away. The white horses had been more of a metaphor for Achilleas. She wasn’t sure how he managed to hold onto something within himself that was good and true when she’d suspected he was raised in such a similar fashion as she’d been. The daunting figures of authority. She didn’t want to use the words evil, even in her thoughts, for her uncle wasn’t evil and she doubted that his father had really been evil but she’d rarely met a man, or a woman, who’d managed to hold onto their goodness and their power. Achilleas was… fighting the good fight, and that was saying something. Her mixed brown hair bounced a couple of times as Altair took the moment to bounce up into a trot before he found the bit and was slowed back to an amble and let the reins drop back down onto his neck.

She didn’t want to belong to Vasiliadon and that was exactly what calling it ‘home’ would have felt like to her. Like she was just another face among the city’s walls or that the hustle and bustle were a part of her. There were things she liked about Vasiliadon, but on a whole it didn’t speak to her soul on a deeper level. That wasn’t something she’d ever admit either. Speaking of souls and feeling things acutely and the way her heart beat for something those were her cherished treasures. After she’d given that to someone, there wasn’t anything more to give and definitely nothing would be left of her. So she kept them locked in a box and pushed so far that not even she could find them sometimes.

‘You say those things as if they are somehow untrue.’ Hazarding a glance at him, a sad smile briefly ghosted her lips before she shrugged it off. It didn’t seem like the time or the place to get into that discussion. ‘I suppose in some ways he was right then? Lord Fotios?’ Her head tilted to glance at him and she nodded her head, “Yes. I suppose in some ways he was.” It didn’t make it any easier being taken from everything she’d depended upon for security and tossed into a world unprepared and unqualified and expected to make the same splash in society that her cousins had.

At her question, his reply had brought about her eyes onto him once more gauging his words carefully. ‘I have already concluded you prefer horses to people. It’s not that much of a stretch to imagine you have decided that even if Lord Gavriil is a taciturn man it doesn’t matter as you’ll be surrounded by those you get on with anyway.’ It was a bold thing to say to her, but not entirely wrong either. She had the odd feeling that Achilleas was a man much smarter than he looked. Pressing her lips together, she needed to think about that, except she wasn’t given time too when he pulled the rug out from underneath her.

‘And of course they are more appropriately sized for someone of your stature too.’

She almost lost her balance as she swiveled to stare at him, her mouth hanging slightly open and her eyes rapidly blinking. Straightening herself up in the saddle she stared at that almost smile that dripped with a cockiness that she wanted to wipe off his face.

“Are you calling me short?” The indignation was so heavy in her voice that even she found herself laughing a little. She hadn’t been called short in… well a very long time. An appreciative twinkle appeared in her dark eyes, “I may not be physically very tall, your majesty, but I promise you I’m tall enough for most of the things I ride.” There was a smugness to smile as she turned away from him to let her teasing sink fully in.

She hadn’t said anything improper, had she? The lethal combination of the puckish glimmer in her dark gaze and the faint curling of one corner of her lips was enough to turn the entirely proper reply into something decadently wicked. Her heavy lids half closed at the way he snapped his mouth closed, pushing back whatever reply that had been resting on his lips. Languidly smiling, Evangelina shifted her gaze to the path in front of her.

There was something deeply pleasurable with wielding this very nearly wickedness. It was one more thing that she had to think Gavriil for. Somewhere between the wine and the way he’s fingertips had scorched her skin she’d found something she’d lost… or maybe something she’d never known she’d had. It was some part of her that she wanted to nurture, some hidden talent that had been sheer darkness until it’d been released. Like a rose touching sunlight and unfolding, so was her confidence.

Picking up the reins, she guided Altair around a thick, patchy bunch of wildflowers. The silence between them was serene and blissful, not the usual awkwardly quiet silence that left you wondering if you should say something? And if you should say something, what should it be that you said? Tilting her face up, to the salty breeze she inhaled deeply. That briny air was a heedy union with the glowing sunshine and cottony clouds. Was this what a perfect day was like?

Glancing sideways, she checked on her companion wondering if he was enjoying himself as much as she was. The look must have been enough for him to feel the need to speak again, circling her back to the topic of her pending engagement.

‘You will know my cousin Iason of course? And the girls? Are they aware of your betrothal yet? I can imagine the difference in years might have raised an eyebrow or two?’

Catching her bottom lip momentarily between her lip as she looked at him, he had this unnerving way of pinpointing upon her troubles. The little Leventi considered him for a moment and nodded as she looked away, finding something interesting about the braid in the leather of her reins.

“I have to admit that it’s been some time since I was around Lord Iason very much and I do not know the Lady Dorothea or Lady Alexa very well.” Shifting, her forehead wrinkled as she seemed to pick at what she wanted to say about it all. Crinkling her nose, she shot him another uncertain glance, “I have asked Lord Gavriil to speak to them… as like you, I felt things might have been a bit awkward. Age difference or not… Lord Gavriil is not a man many ever considered would marry again.”

Stop being silly about this, Evangelina. You’ve already spilled so much to Achilleas, she chided herself silently. Setting her reins back on the grey’s neck, Evangelina forced herself to stop fidgeting.

“He said it was handled and I am putting my trust in that, but…” Her gaze cut back to him and she worried her bottom lip. “I can’t lie that I’m not a little scared of them.” A weak smile formed on her lips, “They are so different then my family.” Shifting in the saddle, she looked back up to the sunshine as if searching for some kind of warmth from it. “That must sound a little silly.” She frowned, a cloud had covered the sun so there wouldn’t be any warmth to be found there right now. It was a bit of a surprise that the warmth she’d been searching for she’d found when she looked at him and found his soft, considering gaze. She smiled softly at him and felt like he’d just compelled the truth out of her.

“Fine. I’ll admit it. I’m worried I won’t fit in and they won’t like me,” she murmured huskily, her throat closing partly at the admittance causing her voice crackle faintly.

Scary. Inwardly fighting off a long, spent sigh Evangelina mulled over his reply to her. Oh, but they were scary… Not in the things that go bump sort of way, those things didn’t scare her really that much. She’d made friends with the monsters under her bed a long time ago. There were worst monsters in this world and she knew it. But perhaps, that was what made the Dimitrou clan so scary. Not because of their cruelty or ambition but rather their lack of it. It was unpredictable and unpredictable things were things that she couldn’t plan for… Things she couldn’t control until they’d already slapped her in the face.

Swallowing, she looked down at her hands. That was a tough truth to know that despite wanting to be something different that she was more comfortable with the monsters she knew than the ones she didn’t know.

‘I can see why they would seem a contrast to your own family, yes, but it is a bit of a leap to call them scary.’ Looking over at him, her lips pressed together a moment before she looked back at the view between Altair’s ears. Her family was scary for outsiders. She knew that, and had accepted it a long time ago.

“Oh, I don’t think they are monsters under your bed, scary, but…” Her voice trailed off and she bit her bottom lip as she sorted out how to explain it. “It’s the differences that scare me.” She looked back to him to see if he was understanding. “A part of me feels like with them I can finally take off that shoe that is just a little too tight, you know? I can relax and just…" She caught herself before she’d finished that with, ‘just me.’ Holding his gaze for a moment before she licked the tender spot she’d been chewing on and looked away. “And the other part of me,” Evie fidgeted with her reins and sighed. “Oh, well… it’s all very silly and I’ll make the most out of it.”

At her admittance of her fears, the Mikaelidas king spoke. ‘I do not think that likely.’ It was a high compliment from him, even if it was not much… Such words from oh-so, reserved King were quite high praise. Her dark eyes softened at him, she’d have told him thank you but… somehow she was afraid it would have felt oddly private; that it would have been one of those heartfelt, real moments that made her chest contract just a little more than she wanted. Yes, best she not look too deeply into that feeling. ‘Lord Gavriil likes you, and that shall be enough for his children.’ She felt the burning questions brimming up inside of her and couldn’t keep from looking at him as he spoke again.

Achilleas would have been able to read the biggest question on her face without even an utterance from her. Would it? Had Irakles liking Meena been enough to curb the awkwardness between Achilleas and him? Or the awkwardness between Meena and Achilleas? Evangelina knew all too well what it was like to grow up with large presences lurking over, her uncle’s presence was well known, even her father at times could cause your spine to stiffen and you to look at your toes. Had Achilleas ever felt that for his own father? She wouldn’t have blamed him one bit if he had. Parents were often put on pedestals because they always seemed to have the answers…

‘You are mildly tolerable.’ She blinked, her head spinning and shooting sparks at him before quickly schooling her face into one of feigned remorse. ‘I would be happy to offer such a character reference to my cousins if you so wish.’

“Only mildly tolerable?” Blinking her soft doe eyes at him, she knew exactly what she was doing. Her voice was soft and husky as she teased him. “You wound me, your majesty. Shall I tell you what sort of character reference I’d have given of you?” There was a coy baiting hitch in her words, before she smiled slowly like a cat who licked up all the cream.

It seemed neither of them wanted to look too deeply into those reasons because without an argument or probing his response with her own curiosity, Evangelina simply smiled and for once kept her mouth shut on the subject. She didn’t want to work herself up into a tizzy with all the what-ifs and imaginations she could come up with. It was too easy to simply appease herself with his words even if they were all together too polite for her to feel like they were his real thoughts. Right now, maybe she didn’t want real thoughts but wanted someone to tell her it would be fine, everything would work out, and all of her worries were just that… things she was overthinking but would probably never come to pass.

Something about the way they were able to switch off and on and off again from topic to topic, it hit her deeply and with a certainty that made her wonder why it was so easy to speak with him. He seemed to understand her without words sometimes and knew when and how to break her out of her shell. It was a worthy task of a friend. Someone you could be so comfortable with that you stopped worrying about walking on eggshells.

His teasing began and she was only satisfied with her retaliation when his expression became shadowed with concern. The emotions on her face must have given way as she picked and prodded at him, teasing him back with a coy smoothness that she’d never known she’d had. It must be some of Gavriil wearing off on me. Meeting his narrowed eye gaze with an innocent, blinking, doe-eyed look as he spoke there was a sinister curl to her lips.

‘I am not certain I wish to know.’ Her lips curled more and her gaze sparked with amusement. Liar, she thought silently… challengingly raising her eyebrows at him. ‘But go on then, if you are so keen to share.’ Her dimples appeared and she was about to tease him for giving her carte blanche to tell him exactly what she thought of him.

‘Just remember you’re speaking to your King.’ This had her lips spreading wide and her eyes crinkling at the corners. It’d been as if he’d read her thoughts.

Shifting in her saddle, she pulled the reins up on the grey stallion and turned her softly feminine form to look at him. Amusement bright in her dark amber gaze, “Are you so sensitive you must hide behind your crown from my opinions?” An eyebrow raised slightly at him as her lips quirked teasingly, tilting her head she spoke again, “I don’t give one whit about your crown. If you were a King or a pauper, my opinion of you would still be as it is.” Meeting his gaze boldly, “And I don’t think you’d like me half as much if I were any different.” She paused and pressed her lips together and then sighed, “I find the man far more interesting than the crown.”

Glancing over his shoulders she paused to consider how she continued, before she did in fact continue, “You’re handsome, accomplished, everything your family should or could have ever wanted from you.” Her gaze drifted back to his and she stared at him like she was trying to figure something out, “But you’ve also got a kind heart and an innate goodness.” Her lips lifted a little with a small shrug, “I also think you can be a bit high strung and a tiny bit pompous… and if I am honest I feel like you wear a mask so that people can’t hurt you. You too golden… too shiny sometimes. It’s very unnerving, until it drops a little and I can see the man beneath the crown, if that makes sense.” She smiled whole-heartedly then at him, her gaze softening… “And I quite like the man beneath the crown, he’s not as shiny but he’s real. He’s even got a sense of humor lurking in there.” The last part was said a bit wryly.