He stiffens and shoves me away.
I stumble back, panting and disheveled. Dismay leaches the lust out of my limbs. Every viper-tongued gossip in the castle will have witnessed what just happened. Before, they might have pitied me for my misfortunes. Now, they will mock and despise me for what looks like a desperate attempt to seduce the wicked prince.
I dart my tongue over my kiss-swollen lips. His stare pins me like a butterfly to a collector’s mat, his chest rising and falling fast beneath the hard shell of his armor.
I got around that thing in his eye for a few precious seconds, and it hated me for it. But now I’m sure the Kai I loved is in there. He might be cruel. He might say horrible things. Do worse things. I’ll let him, if that’s what it takes to get him back.
Part of me wants to push him. Find out how bad he can be. Even back then, a wicked part of me wished he would drop the courtesy and be forceful with me, but Kai was always too much of a gentleman to be anything other than perfectly respectful.
To what point and purpose? Half the castle said horrible things about me back then, too. I hardly have any reputation to lose anyway. Vicious comments might hurt my feelings, but that is nothing compared to how I have been wounded in ways that changed my life irrevocably. I cannot continue to exist as a shadow. He is my only path forward.
“Thanks for the happy birthday kiss,” I say, putting all my newfound, fragile confidence into speaking those words in a sultry tone. “Welcome home, my prince.”
His features harden into a glare of disgust. He stalks away.
A grim smile touches my lips as I watch him go. Score one point for me in whatever this strange game we’re playing is.
Chapter 6
The next morning,after my midnight-to-mid-morning shift in the kitchen, I’m watering the roses growing in my window box and mulling the queen’s order to attend Kai’s welcome-home reception this evening.
Upon arriving home from work, I discovered a thick parchment envelope sealed with red wax and bearing the emblem of the royal family. I opened it, read the contents, and left it sitting on the table.
A dress will be delivered to my room an hour before I am to attend the royal family in the banquet hall. I am to return it when the event is over—undamaged. The queen was quite specific on that score. Apparently it is much finer than a scullery maid like me deserves to touch.
Lost in thought, I don’t notice the men traipsing into the courtyard below. If I had, I certainly wouldn’t have been hanging out the window in my shift and stays.
“Ho there,” a masculine voice calls out.
I jerk my head up. Embarrassment scorches my skin.
“Whore, indeed,” a second man scoffs. The second speaker is Kai. His mouth contorts into an ugly sneer. I freeze.
“Show us your tits, Gwen,” he taunts, making a rude gesture. His friend grins eagerly.
No. I am not going to show him and everyone else whose windows overlook this courtyard my breasts. The servants’ dormitories are a casual place. I’ve lived here for most of my life. Being glimpsed in one’s underthings while inside one’s own living quarters isn’t shocking among the lower classes, but flaunting one’s nakedness is unseemly.
Especially before a royal prince. What is he doing here? Kai never comes to this part of Montrace Castle unless it’s to see me.
“Come on, luv, show us your bubbies,” calls the unknown man, using a lewd and frankly ridiculous word for breasts. I cast him a dismissive glare. Kai’s companion is the kind of rough character he once would have looked down upon. If he can only see the ugliness in people, then he must feel compelled to surround himself with men who are willing to tolerate his newfound vileness.
I’m not sure what possesses me to do it. An instinct. A long-suppressed rebellious streak. I lock gazes with Kai and pour the contents of the watering can over my chest. The cool water puckers my nipples into stiff peaks. Without looking down, I know the darker hue is visible through the threadbare fabric of my shift. From the periphery of my vision, I see the Kai’s companion make a rude gesture and run his tongue over his lips. Confirmation that yes, my body is fully on display in wet linen, even from two stories up.
Reason asserts itself abruptly. I pull myself back inside and slam the exterior shutters closed. Even though the tiny two-room apartment will quickly turn stifling, I slam the window sash down hard enough to rattle the ancient, wavy glass. The watering can drops from my boneless fingers and rolls hollowly on the floor beside my feet.
For a full minute, I stand there, my heart pounding. I don’t know what I expected—punishment for my brazenness seems likely, yet nothing happens.
When I regain sense, I peel off my wet clothes and hang them to dry with shaking hands. I slip into my nightgown and crawl into bed. It takes me a long time to fall asleep. I am awoken when Nana bustles in, rousing me from a fitful rest. The sun slants through the shutters creating a lattice on the rag rug.
“It’s stifling in here. Why did you close the window, Gwen?” she says.
Sweat clings to my skin. I feel unclean. Remembering the queen’s invitation, I bolt upright. “What time is it?”
“A little after four.”
Adrenaline leaches away. My limbs feel strangely weak and shaky in the aftermath. I have hours to prepare. “I need a bath. She’s sending a dress for me to wear.”
“Who is?”
