“It’s that feckin’ tiger,” Jeros said. “The beast canna stand a closed door.”
The locked door latch rattled, and a harried knocking followed. “It’s me. Let me in.”
“Lexi!” Jeros crossed the wide room in a few broad strides, unlocked the door, and yanked it open. “What is it? What is wrong?”
“I need to escape Madame Rosila and her minions for just a little while. Please.”
Jeros took his hand off the haft of his sword and exhaled in relief. He took a step back and waved her inside. “Not that I dinna relish yer company, my own, but ye must be prepared for this visit, and the modiste and her seamstresses need access to ye.”
“Why?” she demanded. “Your parents and their Court are just going to reject me anyway, and you know it.”
Jeros clenched his teeth so hard that his jaws ached. He dismissed Darkcord with a tensed jerk of his head.
“My lady.” Darkcord offered Lexi a polite bow, then hurried out, closing the door behind him.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Lexi threw herself into Jeros’s arms and hugged him tightly. “This trip will not go well. You know it won’t.”
“Aye, but we must face it. Face them. Show them we are one.”
She released him and circled the room like a caged animal, her tiger taking every step alongside her. “I don’t care if they don’t like me. Really, I don’t. It would be better if they did, but I can handle it. But how is that going to affect you? You’re the heir to the throne, right?”
“I am the heir.” He wasn’t quite ready to discuss the possibility of banishment or abdication. Deep in his gut, he sensed she would not be pleased, and she had enough to worry about for the time being.
She turned and glared him down with a look that called him on the attempted lie of omission. “Do not sidestep the answer. If they don’t accept me, what dangers does that cause for you?”
He gave a nonchalant shake of his head. “Nothing I canna handle.” He took by her hands, tugged her back into his arms, and kissed the top of her head. “As long as I have ye, I have everything I need.”
She pulled away again. “But the Seventh Realm istheirRealm.Theirland. Right?”
“Not all of it.” He closed the distance between them. “Sevenrest is mine. Has been since my birth.”
“But you’re surrounded by them. If they fight you on this, they have you surrounded.”
He took her hand and gently kissed it. “I protect my own, my love, and ye are my own. There is not a kingdom or a realm in any of the realities that would make me let ye go. Ye are mine, Lexi. Mine forevermore. Just as I am yers.”
The look she gave him, the emotions in her eyes, made him love her even more. “I just wish there was a way I could fix this,” she said as she touched the scarred side of her face. “But even with all the makeup in the world, something tells me they would still see my scars. Rill said even a glamour wouldn’t work.”
“She suggested a glamour?” Protective rage shot through him.
“We were brainstorming. I asked her if there was anything at all we could do.” Lexi shifted with a disheartened shrug. “I asked her about the glamour because I’d read it in a fairytale once. I can’t remember which one. But she said the king and the queen would see through it. Their ability to do so is part of their protection.”
“She is right, although I dinna ken what the feckin’ hell a storm has to do with it.”
“A storm?”
“Brainstorming,” he repeated, still not quite sure about the word.
Suddenly sheepish, Lexi waved away his concerns. “It’s a figure of speech. It means everyone thinks out loud in an attempt to find a solution to a problem.”
“Like planning a battle with yer general?”
She pursed her lips, obviously weighing the description for merit. Finally, she nodded. “Yes. Like planning a battle with your general.”
“Dinna fash yerself, lass. We will be all right no matter what happens.”
“No matter what happens? What is that supposed to mean?” She flew into his arms again and hugged him even tighter than before. “I want you safe. That is all that matters.” She looked up at him. “When they don’t accept me, what will happen?”
Unwilling to lie to her, he offered the faintest shrug. “I canna say for certain. Many times, it depends on their moods. My parents can be quite fickle.” He lowered his head and kissed her thoroughly, so thoroughly that he hungered for more than just a kiss. He cupped the curves of her fine arse through her dress. “Someone once told me not to borrow tomorrow’s troubles because today has enough of its own.”
