“What call?”
“Caw caw rooooar.”
I plonked into my chair and just looked at him. Seriously? “What kind of call was that?”
“Tiger lily.”
Uh-huh. Clearly, this one was in quite the mood. It seriously amazed me that he fit under there, though. Prince James was a tall man. He folded up better than I would have expected him to.
No matter how I thought about it, this didn’t look right. Something was very wrong. It might not be my place, but I’d better push for answers. “Did something happen?”
“I’m at the stage where my body has saidHey, we realize you didn’t sleep well last night, but now you’re extra tired, and because of that, you’re too tired to actually sleep. Sorry about that, maybe just wait until you collapse from exhaustion, then maybe we’ll sleep?Stay tuned. I hate bodies. So inconvenient.”
His ramble had and hadn’t answered my question. I’d never heard him ramble before. “So you came here to…take a nap?”
“I hoped I could nap here.” Prince James’s lower lip pushed outward. “My bed doesn’t like me. No, my body doesn’t like my bed? I don’t know anymore.”
He’d definitely pushed the boundaries of exhaustion. He wasn’t even making sense.
A bit of my evil side perked up and I dared to ask a question he normally sidestepped. “Did you eat at all today?”
“Uhh…I had khavé.”
I’d take that as a no. His answer concerned me because it reinforced something Jo Ann had mentioned yesterday. She said he’d stopped taking lunch breaks, barely snacked, and seemed to only really eat at the elaborate formal dinners. It matched my own observations, which wasn’t a good thing. I didn’t know why he’d suddenly started skipping meals, but I knew for a fact he’d eaten regularly when he first entered the palace. The only times I knew for certain he ate were the rare times I ate with him, and he’d consume healthy amounts, so he wasn’t avoiding food completely. Which led me to think one of two things was happening:
Either a) he couldn’t eat while stressed (and there had been much to stress about).
Or b) he dearly wanted company while eating, and hoped to eat with me, and was disappointed I’d said no.
Unless I was very, very much mistaken, it was b. I wasn’t a narcissist—I didn’t think I was the center of the universe—but the timing of this problem was too coincidental to ignore. Prince James had stopped eating lunch ever since I’d first turned him down for a lunch date.
Part of me wanted to say, surely not, surely that wasn’t the cause. But…I just had this gut feeling… Actually, come to think of it, the only time I saw him eat with people was at officialfunctions. Which was hardly a comfortable meal or setting, with all eyes on you. The only time he had fun company was for snacks. Maybe that’s why I saw him eating snacks and not meals? Would it help if he had friendly company for a meal?
Okay, I dared to ask. “Did you stop eating lunch because no one would eat with you?”
He looked up, his eyes liquid and sad. “I just want to eat with you.”
This beautiful lunatic was going to give me a second ulcer. I resisted the urge to grab him by the collar and shake him. He was too vulnerable right now, his guard dropped because of his exhaustion and obvious hunger, and I had a feeling he’d spiraled badly.
And no one in this damn palace was close enough to him to either recognize the danger or help him.
Except, apparently, me?
I couldn’t ignore this. I just couldn’t. It wasn’t my job—or my place—and would likely open doors I shouldn’t be opening, but I couldn’t ignore him when he was in such a deplorable state. All he wanted was a friend, in this foreign place he was still adjusting to. The least I could do is be that support.
“If I call for supper to be delivered and eat with you, will you properly eat?”
His face lit up with a hopeful smile. “You’ll eat with me?”
That answered my question. “I will indeed.”
“Can I still take a nap under your desk afterward?”
I’d do far worse things if it got him to sleep. If he still didn’t sleep, I’d even read to him. “That’s fine.”
He made this happy little sound, like a predator cat all pleased. “Okay.”
“Don’t move.” I stood, went to the door, and called for a runner from their nearby station. I gave the order to bring metwo heaping plates, hoping Prince James would eat all of it. Or at least most.
