Sir Vincent tilted his head to one side, and stared down at her with a baffled expression.

“Well of course,” Amaryllis stammered, growing flustered. Was this really the same man she’d been watching earlier? She’d never seen him wear such a blatant expression. Even when he’d smiled at her previously, he hadn’t held it for very long.

 “Why are you so surprised?” Her face grew hot as her embarrassment took hold. “I told you last time we met I was worried about you, didn’t I?”

Before he could respond, she turned and hurried towards the clearing they’d talked at before. Had she read too much into things? Did he not welcome her interest? Then why meet her like this? And what was so bizarre about being concerned for someone who was in danger? Wasn’t that normal?

Amaryllis pursed her lips. She disliked how foolish and flustered she felt at his question. His genuine surprise made no sense. He was the one being foolish after all. Not her.

There was no path to this particular clearing, but she had little trouble walking there. Further into the forest there were creeping vines and shrubs that would have caught on her boots and skirts, but this close to the edge the underbrush was mainly made-up ferns and wildflowers. They cushioned her steps, silencing them just as well as her shadows did.

Leaves rustled quietly from the gentle breeze that tugged at her braid, freeing a few strands of hair and causing them to tickle her cheeks. Night birds called to each other in the distance, and crickets chirped quietly nearby.

Besides the typical, mellow sounds of the evening there was silence. She strained her ears, but couldn’t hear anything behind her. If she could move quietly without help, she knew a knight could do so as well. He may be right behind her.

Or the silence was because he hadn’t followed her at all.

Amaryllis clutched her skirts, pretending the gesture was to keep her hem from dragging. A part of her desperately wanted to look back to check if he was there. Though her pride kept her gaze forward. She didn’t want to look as pathetic as she was starting to feel.

The thick foliage of the maple trees blocked out some of the moonlight. The space beneath their cover was dim, but there was enough light left to see with.

Shadows surrounded them o nearly every surface. Rather than making her even more nervous, she found herself relaxing at the sight. They had an odd comfort to them now. She would have to come out here to collect shadows when she got better at storing them. No one would notice them missing if she made sure to take them from areas only she went to.

The book on ancient magic had mentioned that storing, and then using, shadows was one of a dark mage’s key abilities. She had started to practice with a few. Just two candles worth. Small enough that no one would notice when her control failed and they slipped away.

The skill felt like she was strengthening a new muscle. The first few minutes were easy. However, the longer she held on the shakier her control became. Inevitably her mana would scatter, along with the shadows she was carrying.

 The time she could hold it had gotten longer though. Her mana efficiency had grown too. With more practice she was confident she could stretch the minutes into an hour and that hour into two hours and then maybe, eventually, a full day.

Thinking about magic helped calm her, and she slowed her pace to calmly walk around the wide tree trunks. Amaryllis let one hand brush against the rough bark as she moved past. The temptation to gather a few shadows beneath her fingertips was strong, but she pushed it away. Now was not the time. She was already acting foolish enough, she didn’t need to risk being reveled as a dark mage on top of that.

The trees opened up after a few minutes, revealing the clearing. Amaryllis scurried forward to sit on the log and used it as an excuse to look behind her. Or rather, look forward as one normally would when sitting.

The clearing was wide enough that the moonlight shone down unobscured. The outer edges had dappled shadows, formed by the shifting leaves above. A familiar silhouette was already walking into the clearing and headed towards her.

Amaryllis let out the breath she was holding, thankful that he was too far away to hear it. She willed the heat in her cheeks to fade, and when that didn’t work, she prayed for more clouds to dim the moonlight. Neither succeeded of course.

If only the bit of relief she felt would make her blush go away. The heat had not spread past her cheeks, but she was certain it was visible. She settled for looking down at the tips of her boots while she willed it to fade. He was taller than her so maybe that’d make it harder to notice.

Unfortunately, Sir Vincent was backlit as he walked over. She struggled to make out the expression on his face. His posture appeared relaxed at least. There was a quiet grace to his movements, like a cat ambling about. He moved to the opposite end of the log, angling his legs towards her when he sat.

“Why were you worried?” Sir Vincent asked; his voice full of confusion.

Apparently, he was determined to make her embarrassment continue. She thought it was polite to not bring a topic back up when neither party seemed comfortable. So why was he asking that? Amaryllis frowned and shot him an incredulous look, already forgetting her resolve to hide her cheeks.

“Because it was dangerous.”

“Going into battle at the command of my king is part of my duties,” his tone went flat, and her tamper flared. “I wouldn’t be a very good knight if some bandits were enough to fell me.”

“Just because it is part of your duties does not negate the danger,” Amaryllis pointed out.

“I see no need to make a fuss over it.”

Did he find her foolish for worrying? She was starting to think he did although she didn’t understand why. Many of her father’s men had died in the skirmishes before the Tempest and Royal knights arrived. How could she not worry?

Or was he actually that reckless? Maybe fearless would be the better descriptor. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time she heard of a knight growing too arrogant about their abilities, and them rushing into danger because of it. Those knights tended to have short lives.

“I heard you snuck into the enemy camp with only a handful of knights to kill their leader,” she retorted. “A rather daring move by anyone’s standards, and you say there’s no cause for a fuss?”

Amaryllis grimaced at the sharp edge she heard in her voice. Her embarrassment and frustrations were on full display. She needed to get a better handle on her emotions. A proper noblewoman was demure, elegant, and refined. Yet here she was, snapping at a man because she felt a little flustered.

“Besides, isn’t it proper for a lady to worry for a knight?” she grumbled, feeling a bit deflated from her own failings when they were arguing over his daring victory. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I’d known you’d be so prickly about it.”

“Oh, well,” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, only partially obscuring the smile that tugged at his lips. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

Amaryllis snorted and rolled her eyes. That smile, likely at her expense, further prickled at her pride. The last of her nerves faded as annoyance took its place. Even displacing some of her embarrassment.

She lifted her chin and shot him a glare. How was sneaking into the enemy camp not that bad? And did he need to look so pleased while she felt flustered. Honestly, how dare he make her feel like this after causing her to worry!

“The others launched a full-scale attack at dawn to distract them,” Vincent quickly explained in an attempt to mollify her. “We climbed down the cliffside they’d set up camp against the night before to sneak in and get into position. They didn’t see us coming until it was too late. The rest fell apart without the leaders. It was all over quickly.”

“That still sounds dangerous,” Amaryllis grumbled, refusing to concede that she had been concerned for no reason.

The cliff had to have been high and steep for the raiders to consider using it as a defensive position. Was such a climb really nothing to him? At night and fully armored too. She sometimes wondered how knights managed to sit with swords strapped to their waists. Her skirts made her trip more often than she cared to admit. How on earth had he climbed down a cliff with all of that cumbersome metal weighing him down?

“It was manageable,” he turned rigidly away to look into the woods. “Anyways, I’ve told that story about thirty times tonight. I’m tired of talking about it.”

“My apologies.”

Amaryllis felt her blush, which had started to fade, return due to her blunder. The heat spread from her cheeks to the tips of her ears, and she quickly looked down at her boots again.

To get angry with a man who had just fought bravely for her father’s land, and then to make him remember what had to have been a harrowing ordeal to satisfy her anger was shameful. If he did not wish to dwell on it, she should let it go. She did not want to make him leave by pushing for more.

A tense silence fell over them. His body was as taught as a bowstring, and she didn’t want to upset him more. She floundered for the right words. What did a knight even want to talk about? Light conversation about the crickets chirping nearby felt entirely out of place. If he thought her foolish before that would certainly confirm it in his mind.  

Amaryllis did her best not to groan. She should’ve asked Romi for that book on weapons.