No matter. It was never going to happen again.
“You sure like your peaches, huh?” Rourke said.
I looked at him. There was a strange expression on his face, almost like he was expecting to be scolded. “Yes.”
He didn’t elaborate. I ate in silence, thinking of what Woods had said about fruit. That whole tale was a made-up story, of course, but if therewassome kernel of truth to it, wouldn’t those so-called fated mates share the same taste in fruit? It didn’t make sense that they would be different. I pushed the idea from my mind. Thinking about fairy tales as if they were real was an utter waste of time and I felt foolish for doing so.
* * *
The tailor’sshop was a quaint little store in the fashion district. The upper quarter streets were bustling, but not crowded in the way they were in the lower quarter. I noticed that there were less openly gawking faces today. News must have spread fast about the prince’s new pet. Good, because I didn’t have the energy to educate small-minded people right now. I had more important things to do—namely, buying Rourke an outfit that didn’t make him look like a child going through a sudden growth spurt.
The tailor, an omega in his mid-forties, didn’t make any comments about Rourke. He simply did his job with a healthy amount of idle talk, which I appreciated.
“Your Highness, it will be easier to take measurements for undergarments if your alpha undresses,” the tailor said.
“Undergarments?” Rourke said, sputtering.
“Well, yes,” I said dryly. “Did you expect not to wear those?”
“I just didn’t think that was a thing people got tailor made,” he mumbled, blushing.
“People who can afford it do. Now strip.”
Rourke didn’t seem to have a problem with nudity in the baths, but stripping down to his underwear in front of the tailor made his cheeks turn red. It was rather amusing. As soon as the measurements were done, he quickly struggled back into his ill-fitting clothes.
“When can I expect to have these finished?” I asked the tailor.
“Usually within the week, but for you, Your Highness, I can do them on the spot.”
I pulled my wallet out and gave him a generous tip. “Thank you.”
Rourke’s eyes widened at the large monetary exchange but he didn’t comment. As the tailor hurried to the back room to start working, Rourke shuffled his feet.
“Uh, thanks for all this,” he said. “It wasn’t necessary.”
“It was. I can’t have you dressing poorly now that you belong to me.”
He grimaced. “Right…”
Was he still hung up about that? I mulled it over and decided to steer the conversation away, trying to make him more comfortable.
“I noticed Marianne didn’t make a peep throughout the night,” I said.
He shrugged. “She seems like a well-trained dog. Er, I mean Gracehound.”
I smiled. “Thank you. But I wasn’t fishing for a compliment. I meant that I appreciated the fact that you didn’t try to kill me while I slept.”
“Of course I didn’t!”
“Well, I had no way of knowing that. Let’s not pretend we’re not both aware that the opportunity did present itself.”
Rourke’s mouth turned into a frown. “I know you think I’m some beast, like the King said, but I wouldn’t do that.”
His insistence seemed genuine. It could have all been a ploy, but I considered myself good at spotting lies, and I didn’t detect any coming from Rourke. It was like the concept of harming someone in their sleep was inherently abhorrent to him.
“For the record, I don’t agree with what my father said,” I told him.
Rourke met my gaze. I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not.
