‘I’m going to track down some lunch. Care to join me?’ Josie called after her.
Aya paused in the threshold. It would keep her out of the palace – and away from Will.
‘Why not.’
It was late afternoon by the time Josie and Aya returned so that Aya could prepare for dinner with Aidon. Josie had persuaded her to try the fried fish down at the docks, and though she’d been skeptical, Aya found it delicious. They’d also stopped by Vi’s gallery and browsed the artist’s plaza, pausing at a few stalls for Josie to restock her painting supplies. Tova would have loved it. The fish, Viviane, the frenzy of the artist’s plaza. Her friend would have loved every bit of it.
Aya sank deeper into the bath she’d drawn when she returned, her fingers curling around the lip of the tub. There was still no news from Lena on the search for the supplier. Every day wasted here felt like just another moment that kept Tova in that godsforsaken prison.
But at least … a plan. Aya had the workings of a plan.
It certainly wasn’t her strongest, but she’d take whatever she could get. Because she needed to get home to her friend. And she couldn’t do that until she found a way to wrangle what was inside of her.
This power … it was pushing Aya further into that cold and dark place she couldn’t seem to pull herself out of. It had been easier to do so before the market. Before the prophecy. Then, that icy anger had felt like a mask – something she could tap into when she needed it.
Now it felt like a second skin.
Her attendant arrived shortly after Aya roused herself from the tub, Josie following with a sly smile. She strolled toAya’s armoire and flung it open. ‘I’m choosing your outfit,’ Josie announced.
Aya glanced at the attendant, who fought to keep the annoyance from her voice as she said, ‘I reminded her Highness that as a royal attendant, it is my duty to—’
‘And I remindedyouthat my friend is going on a date with my brother, soImust be the one to dress her. I feel horribly left out already,’ Josie added with a wink to Aya.
‘It’s not a date,’ Aya said flatly. Josie snorted. ‘It’s not. He’s being hospitable.’
Something clenched in her stomach as she said it. Aya knew they were mere marks to one another, and that Aidon would likely be pressing for information on her activities at dinner. It’s what she would do. But …
Perhaps the apology is merely an excuse.
Something was shifting between them, blurring the lines between sources and friends and perhaps even something more.
Josie cocked a brow. ‘Was William invited to this hospitable dinner?’ Aya pressed her lips together and Josie grinned. ‘See? A date.’
‘Are you going to show me what devilish plans you have for my outfit, or do I have to dress myself?’
42
Aidon chose the quaint restaurant in the back of the Old Town because it was small enough that they were likely to be undisturbed.
He loved how comfortable his people were in approaching him. But sometimes he wanted to enjoy a meal without dropping his fork every few moments to greet another couple, or hug another child, or inquire about another mother who had fallen ill.
Besides, he had a feeling that Aya wouldn’t take well to strangers popping up at their table unannounced, and the last thing he needed after a long week was her pulling a knife on someone.
He also simply loved the food here. He’d known the chef for years, having first met him when he and Josie had been sent to bed without dinner for misbehaving at a particularly stuffy court affair. He’d dragged his sister into town to stop her whining, and they’d found the lovely hidden eatery while wandering near the residential streets. He’d made a point of coming back at least once a month since.
Aya sat across from him in a short-sleeved, pale blue dress. The sheer sleeves were cuffed with a white band at her elbows, the light, chiffon skirt cut in layers and brushing just above her knees. The bodice swept in a deep V and was held together with a white sash that tied at the back of the dress. It made her look softer. He wondered if she did it on purpose.
She glanced around at the space, her eyes scanning thesmall wooden tables and rough stone walls. He expected to have to draw her opinion from her, but she slid her gaze toward him, a small grin on her lips.
‘I love it.’
‘I thought you might.’
‘What’s good here?’ She scanned the menu, tucking a strand of long brown hair behind her ear. He was relieved to see her cheek was smooth once more.
‘Everything.’
Another rare smile from her as she pushed the menu away. ‘Then I trust you to guide us in the right direction.’
