Sieur Eldridge saluted the viscount and offered Winnie an arm.
She took it belligerently.
The door closed behind me.
My eyes fixed on the prince. He had a dangerous air about him lately. I noticed it most when he thought my attention was elsewhere: a hungry gaze that lingered too long on the curve of my neck or the slope of my shoulder. He maintained rigid control in my presence, but I could still sense the barely-contained desire beneath his courtly manners, like a predator lying in wait. Hiscurse-induced infatuation felt more potent with each passing day, yet something in his nature—pride, or calculated patience—held him back from acting on these urges. I wasn’t much of a believer, but I still praised the gods for those small mercies. Should he unleash himself upon me, I was certainly not strong enough to fight him off.
Registering the combined feelings of terror and intrigue that often accompanied his presence, I silently chastised myself into a calmer state.
“My lady,” said Prince Nicolas, gesturing from his high-backed armchair. It was richly upholstered and turned away from the fireplace in invitation, the two carved stag heads at the end of each arm staring me down.
I came to him, my motions tracked with his focused attention, and found repose in an adjacent seat. “My prince.”
We hadn’t had a moment alone together since he’d made his intentions for me clear. That made me nervous.
His fingers tightened briefly on the armrests before he mastered himself, resuming his regal composure. The slight flush at his collar was the only remaining evidence of internal struggle. “I had a fascinating conversation with Lady Angharad shortly after supper. Confiding in almost anyone here is a bold risk.”
My heart skipped. “F-Forgive me, Your Highness.”
He put up a hand. “Fortunately, the gamble worked in your favor this time. That damned bloodhound sleuthed about and managed to discover exactly who called for your disappearance… It was my cousin, Percy Montfort.”
My lips parted. The relief I felt from Angharad’s success was quickly overshadowed. “A cousin, you say?”
I summoned Percy’s face from the dining hall. He was an impudent fellow on appearances alone, always wearing the smug kind of look that saidI know more than all of you. It was typically balanced with an unusual melancholy, but perhaps, given context, that could be attributed to resentment.
“The fact that he hired a Hadrian only furthers my hypothesis; he’d have framed separationists for your abduction.” The prince’s knuckles whitened.
I hardly knew Percy; he was barely a footnote in the list of courtiers I’d been introduced to. Would he really have been so eager to remove me from court?
The prince ran an ungloved hand through his hair, the royal blue sleeve of his robe sliding up his arm. I’d never seen him dressed so casually, but it remained that the silk fabrics around him were likely worth more than the collective lives of a small village.
“Quinn foiled his plans, but it remains that an attempt was made, and that you were hurt in the process. Percy will not go unpunished simply because he is of royal blood. It’s time for you to do your part.”
I swallowed hard. Maybe I’d hoped he would have forgotten that demand by now. “Your Highness, why would your own blood commit such an offense?”
He thumbed over the carved details of the hart ornaments. “Since the merger with Hadria, there have been unhappy family members either vying for the crown or working to have us killed. My parents both suffered a number of attempts on their lives. There were ploys to have me disposed of, as well. This won’t be your last conspiracy, but we must uproot the weeds of dissent before they spread.”
“Prince Nicolas.” I summoned all the courage I could. “I’ve never killed anyone. And your bewitchment is not my doing, but a curse that was inflicted upon me. I’m not what you believe me to be.”
Leaning back, the prince gave a knowing grin. “Yes, denial is the common response. Your lies don’t help your case, I’m afraid; not when every word you speak sends my mind to unspeakable places.”
With a dip of his eyes, I knew where those thoughts had traveled. I folded my hands on my lap and watched as the amusement drained from his features.
“Begone, beautiful. Go plot your revenge.”
I rose unsteadily to my feet, knowing better than to argue, then bowed and turned away.
With every step away from him, the weight of his stare changed; there was possession in that look, a silent claim that trailed after me like a shadow.
I opened the door to find Lord Quinn alone. I couldn’t muster my usual indignance in my current state.
His lips parted, a hand slightly raising toward me.
“Quinn,” said the prince from his chair, “it was Percy.”
The viscount blinked. Then his features sharpened.“Percy?I’ll have his head.”
“You’ll do absolutely nothing.” Prince Nicolas’ gaze fell to me, and once more the lust had found its cage. “Executing him will only create a martyr among his supporters. The matter will handle itself shortly. Keep my lady safe until it does.”
