Green Lady Preview

Wulfram glanced at Cleandra, wondering if the same was true of her. She was laughing, making some
jibe at Friedrich. Was this all a farce? To stave off her brother's entreaties? To prevent him from seeking
her out with dogs and hunters, or holding her there by force? He glanced at her smiling face, that summer
radiance he coveted. His stomach twisted, and he thought of each time they’d parted and how his soul
turned gray in her absence. His heart burned, fluttering too fast. He took a deep breath and sat taller,
willing himself to eat something.
Cleandra nudged him. “Try the duck, it’s astounding.”
Agreeing and obliging, he tried it without tasting. In the back of his mind, he ran through scenarios in
which he asked her to stay. But when he imagined her cooped up in the castle, he cringed—no, she’d lose
something of herself in here. And despite Friedrich's repeated, silent supplications, Wulfram wouldn’t
breathe a word to convince her.
Yes, Wulfram. What could you really hope for? You should’ve known better.
When the feast slowed and people grew sleepy and over-stuffed, Cleandra excused herself from the
table. He followed her, of course, as though a logical extension of her movement.
The sky was rippling velvet and layered pearls, thick, generous drapes of stars, scattered and blinking.
Cleandra raised her face to the jewel lights and spun, laughing, and they shimmered in time with her
intricate footfalls as her ankles crisscrossed, barefoot, leaving nimble toe-prints in the dirt. As she grew
dizzy, she allowed Wulfram to catch her. She held onto him to steady herself, peering at him with deep aloe
eyes. He paused, watching the way the corner of her lips curled in content.
“Friedrich worries about you.”
She deflated with a little sigh. “He shouldn’t. I'd be more at hazard here, where my boredom would get
the better of me.”
Wulfram chuckled, but he knew she heard the sad thrum in his throat, which he couldn't hide, the
catch in his breath when he thought of her leaving again.
“I suppose no one understands. But just look around you, look at this orchard. Perfect rows of trees,
perfect fruit, perfect little chosen flowers. But that's why it isn't perfect. People think it's forest-like simply
because it has trees? They have no idea what a forest is like. Where's the life? If we chase out birds and
nests because they might ruin the fruit, we also take away half the tree's purpose. And is that our choice to
make? If we wanted the forest inside our walls, we'd really let it in, wouldn't we?”
Wulfram let himself drift closer to her. She didn't seem to mind. “When you look at something, you
never see what I'd expect you to.”
“Well, how can I? Do you see what I mean? There—the flower bed’s trampled, and there—some lovestruck
fool's carved names into a trunk. And benches! Has anyone ever tried sitting in a tree, or on the