As he shared his plate with Dominique, Ronan made a point to engage her mother, stepfather, and sisters in conversation.He kept his focus on them intently enough that they couldn’t risk another attempt to influence Dominique. It was difficult to maintain his composure when he wanted to yell for the guard to come and arrest them all, but he knew that it was in his, and Dominique’s, best interest not to reveal his suspicions.
His sister picked up on what he was doing, joining in the conversation in order to keep the focus on the Proxa women and Jurgen. With all eyes on them, Dominique’s mother and sisters preened. Jurgen grew more and more sullen until he was barely speaking at all. Ronan was no telepath, but he was confident that the male felt slighted by the way the fae fawned over fairy godmothers and disliked being ignored in favor of the women in his life.
Ronan filed that information away for later as he fed Dominique the last bite of the fried potatoes the chef made him with his breakfast every time he was home. They were salty, crispy, and perfect. Dominique seemed to appreciate them too because she looked disappointed when she saw he’d fed her the last bite.
Ronan leaned down, dropping his voice into the softest whisper he could manage. He felt her shiver when his mouth brushed the shell of her ear. “I’ll ask for a double order tomorrow morning.”
Her mouth quirked with humor, but the aloof expression quickly returned to her face. Understanding why, Ronan didn’t try to make her laugh or smile again. Instead, he swept his napkin off his lap and pushed to his feet. Reaching down, he took Dominique’s hand and tugged her up to stand next to him.
“Please excuse us. We have wedding plans to attend to,” he stated, his gaze moving over the group at the breakfast table.
His fiancée was quiet as they left the dining room, hand-in-hand. Her head tilted down so her eyes remained focused onthe ground. He didn’t speak as they made their way through the castle halls. Neither did she.
He wasn’t sure if it was because she understood that listening ears were everywhere or if it was because she was upset about what had transpired over breakfast. Whatever she was thinking about, she didn’t let go of his hand until they reached a narrow spiral staircase at the end of a short hall.
He could hear her steps behind him as they descended, the scent of baking bread and frying meat greeting them when they reached the base of the stairs. Ronan led her down another short hall through a small pantry, the shelves lined with tiny spice shakers, stacks of cloth napkins, and rows upon rows of small jars of condiments, each carefully labeled and sealed with wax.
They emerged into the kitchen, the staff moving quickly and efficiently through the space. Some were cleaning the breakfast dishes and others were eating themselves. Next to the stove was a short, stout woman, her plain blue dress covered by a pristine linen apron. Ronan knew that by the end of the day, the apron would be covered with flour, sauce, and other foods, because Jessel was a messy cook. She must have supervised one of the new kitchen staff in cooking breakfast this morning because the apron was still fairly clean.
As though she heard his footsteps, Jessel’s head came up and her stoic expression cracked into a smile. “Welcome home, Your Highness,” she greeted him.
Ronan put a hand on Dominique’s lower back as he led her forward. “Hello, Jessel.”
Her eyes moved over the two of them, the deep brown depths warm but still sharp. “Let me guess, you’re wanting more breakfast.”
He nodded. “And to chat in private, if you have a moment.”
“Your favorites?” she asked.
Ronan nodded. “Enough for both of us, please.”
“Go into my office, and I’ll bring it to you in a moment.”
He sensed Dominique’s curiosity as he guided her through the maze of countertops, ovens, and sinks. Though the royal family was small, feeding their guests, retainers, and the soldiers that guarded them was a huge endeavor, which meant the kitchens were always busy. Even in the middle of the night.
Ronan didn’t speak again until he shut the door to Jessel’s office behind them. He knew that her space would be free of any prying eyes and ears.
“From now on, we will share a plate at meals,” he stated.
Dominique stepped away from the hand he rested on her lower back and whirled to face him. “Do you really think that will be enough?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t. But it’s a start.”
She scoffed and threw her hands in the air, marching a few steps away from him. Jessel’s office was small, so she didn’t have far to go. “I told you what would happen. I know you think you’re untouchable because you’re the prince, but I have news for you—my family has been waiting for this opportunity for decades. They will scheme and manipulate in ways you can’t even imagine.” She made a sound of disgust. “I don’t know why I’m bothering to repeat myself. You haven’t listened any other time I’ve tried to convince you to let this foolish idea go.”
Ronan could practically feel her anxiety building as she paced in the small space near the far wall. He closed the distance between them in one large stride, taking her upper arms in his hands and stopping her motion. Dominique wasn’t much shorter than him in her heels, so her arctic blue eyes were clearly visible. She was in full ice princess mode, wearing a wintry demeanor like armor rather than raging with fire.
“You haven’t been listening to me either, Princess,” he argued. “You don’t know me that well, so I’ll explain it to you. As the crown prince and heir to the throne, I’ve had atleast one attempt on my life every year since I was born. Even in the human realm, I have to watch my back. I’ve trained with the captain of the guard for decades, as well as studied with renowned fighters and teachers in Magic and among the humans. I can fight, and I’ve learned how to vanish if I need to. If I wanted to watch and listen to your family without being seen, I would. I could stand two feet from them, and they would never know I was there. When I say I can and will protect you from them, I mean it. If that means having them thrown out of the kingdom before the wedding tomorrow, I will do it.” He leaned closer until their faces were only an inch apart. “And if it means sliding a knife between your stepfather’s ribs and stabbing him in the heart, I’ll do that, too. None of them will harm you in any way. I vow it.”
Dominique stared at him, unblinking, as her chest expanded from her rapid breaths. ‘You-you would kill them?”
The question was incredulous, as though she couldn’t believe he’d be willing to spill blood for her. Having witnessed the way they spoke to her and hearing her words about not all scars being visible, hell yes, he would kill them all with a smile on his face. Especially if it meant that the awful anxiety that swirled around her moments ago never appeared again.
“I would,” he answered, his tone hard.
“Who are we killing?”
Dominique jumped, but Ronan sighed. He knew when Jessel had entered the room, but he’d hoped she would stay out of sight until this little conversation was over. Apparently, she’d decided to meddle. He shouldn’t be surprised. Jessel often took an instant liking to anyone who tried to keep others at a distance. She was perverse that way.
