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and turned her face away from him, looking to the grass at their feet. “Nothing,” she answered shortly. “You must have been delirious.”
    “No, I didn’t yet have the fever, and I remember clearly my conversation with you and your father. I heard what you asked. What did it mean?” he pressed.
    Violet turned and started walking toward the house. “I’m hungry. We should go eat lunch.”
    Richard caught her by the arm and spun her around to face him, his curiosity raging out of control. “Did you recognize me? Had we met? Were you asking if I was the prince?”
    “Yes, that was it,” she stammered, though she refused to meet his eyes.
    “You are lying to me,” he said, surprised that shewould be so daring and even more surprised that it mattered to him. Richard took a deep breath and then, using the very voice he used to command lesser nobles to do his bidding, he ordered, “Tell me what you truly meant.”
    The wind picked up around them and blew Violet’s hair back from her face so that it stood out nearly straight. Richard felt the wind’s cold fingers plucking at him, but he stood rooted to the ground, waiting for her answer.
    Finally, she looked up at him, and her great violet eyes met his. “It’s just a game I’ve played for a couple of years now. Whenever my eyes meet those of a man my age, I wonder if he’s going to be the one I’ll marry. It was just habit. I wondered the same about you, before I knew who you were. When you were just a nameless stranger lying in my bed. I never meant to say anything out loud.”
    Richard’s heart began to pound, hard and savage. He leaned closer to stare more deeply into her eyes. His mouth had gone dry. All this time he had been searching the world over for his bride, and this girl had been searching this village for her groom. It seemed impossible that they should have met, but they had. Was it fate?
    When he spoke, it was no more than a whisper. “Is it me?” Richard asked. Their faces were only inches apart, and the question shimmered in the air between them. He forgot to breathe, waiting for what she mightsay. But Violet just stared up at him with eyes that could consume a man’s soul.
    Her lips parted, and she seemed about to speak. A sudden shout caused them both to jump. Violet stepped away from him.
    Her father stood waving his hat in the doorway of the house.
    Richard thought he saw a tear trickle down her cheek, but he realized it was a raindrop when one hit his brow.
    “Father Paul must be here,” Violet said, her voice strained. Then she picked up her skirts and ran toward the house.
    He followed, watching the sway of her golden hair. What had she been about to say? Somehow Richard had the feeling that he would never know.
    Suddenly Violet stopped. He could tell she was staring off in the distance toward the castle. He followed the line of her vision and saw the storm clouds rapidly spreading from that direction. Another drop of rain fell, heavier than the first, followed by another and then another.
    The storm came, sudden and unexpected. Violet and Richard barely made it inside before the lightning started. Violet stood at the window, shivering as she stared out into the darkening afternoon.
    The priest was tending to her mother, and Sarah seemed worse than the day before. While Father Paulwas talking with William, Richard came and stood beside Violet, staring out at the rain.
    “Do you care for me?” he asked, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
    “Would it matter?” Violet asked.
    He hesitated, as if looking for the right words.
    She plunged in, fear and bitterness tugging at her hushed voice. “No, it wouldn’t,” she answered for him. “It’s not about you or me; it’s about kingdoms and treaties and wars and alliances. You said so yourself.”
    Richard seemed to have no answer, for he turned away, retreating to the center of the room. Violet could hear her father, the priest, and Richard talking together in low