“Doesn’t matter. His Highness has requested that I stay with you and babysit.” He spits the last word out like it’s a curse. Like watching me is so far beneath him.
“I won’t tell if you don’t.” I give him my most charming smile.
“I’ll be on the window seat, Your Highness. Sleep well.”
“You can’t be serious,” I say, aghast. “I cannot have a man spending the night in my room. What will people say?”
“They’ll say the prince has a very loyal lapdog who wasted his night watching over a spoiled princess instead of chasing down rebels like he should.”
“Really. You can’t be in here,” I repeat.
He starts removing his leather armor.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I don’t usually sleep in my armor.” He drops the leather chest plate on the floor. “And since I don’t think you’re actually going to be attacked, there’s not much point in leaving it on.”
“Please don’t,” I say.
“Close the curtains on your bed and go to sleep, Your Highness. I’ll be gone in the morning.”
“I still don’t think this is appropriate.” I cross my arms. “I don’t know you, and you expect me to feel safe sleeping in the same room as you?”
He uses his toe to push all his armor next to the cushioned window seat with a sigh. I can see the tips of black gift markings on his left forearm where his sleeve is rolled up. It almost looks like a vine. I wonder if they extend onto his arms and chest. He’s strong and broad, and without the cover of his armor, the outlines of his muscles are clear, and my mind starts to imagine what he might look like without that shirt on.
Nope. Not doing that. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, then open them to clear my head.
“Should I call for your ladies? They can join us,” he offers in a tone that tells me he knows it’s the last thing I want.
“I think I preferred it when you weren’t talking to me,” I say.
With a smirk, he inclines his head. “Sleep well, Your Highness.” He sits on the window seat and removes his boots, then turns so his back is against the wall and his legs stretch out across the cushion. He takes up the whole seat that way. He couldn’t lay down even if he wanted to, which means he’s either not sleeping or he’s sleeping sitting up.
I climb under my blankets and furs with my robe still on, leaving the canopy open so I can watch him. Settling in, propped up against the headboard, I plan to stay awake until the sun rises.
In the firelight, I can tell he’s got his eyes closed and his head back. His arms are crossed, and his breathing is steady. Maybe he really is going to sleep.
I fight exhaustion, but it’s been a long day and my eyes are heavy.
The next thing I know, cheerful singsong voices call my name, and my ladies are gathering in my room while sunlight pours in from the window. The window seat is empty. The armor and boots are gone.
Five
Marian shoosthe other ladies into the dining room. Their giggles and excited chatter lessen but still carry through the space. I’m glad they’re happy, but it’s such a stark contrast to the rest of this place.
I wash my face and change into the day dress Marian set aside for me. It’s white and gray with a black ribbon around the waist. Thankfully, there’s no corset. Apparently, those are reserved for formal occasions. Color, on the other hand, is never permitted.
When I join the ladies in the dining room, I’m surprised to see breakfast arranged on the table. Bread, jam, fruit, roasted tomatoes, mushrooms, and potatoes. There’s a wide variety and, again, far more food than necessary.
The women are gathered in the dining chamber, their backs against the walls. All of them silent. Marian must have scolded them while I was dressing in the bathing chamber.
There’s enough food for all of us, but the women are standing there as if they’re going to watch me eat. “Join me for breakfast?” I gesture toward the table.
The ladies chirp with excitedThank-yous, then sit at the chairs, leaving the head spot, and the chair on the right open. I glance over at Marian, who gives a single nod, then I take the place at the end. Marian sits on my right.
“Please, eat. There’s so much food,” I say.
“You first,” Marian whispers.
