Chapter 8
My hands trembled with a velocity I could not control. I’d barely made it into my bedchamber and to the washing pan before I puked. Miss Jocelyn hurried across the room after me, and she helped to hold back the loosening parts of my braid to keep them from the bowl.
“I’m quite fine,” I told her, wiping the corner of my mouth with a cloth.
“You don’t look fine,” she said. “What’s happened? Are you ill?”
“I…” I tried to catch my breath, sitting on the seat before my mattress. “I’m alright. I am.”
She looked at me suspiciously but had no time to press the matter as the Prince entered through the door next. He promptly realized what he had done, then turned back, found himself in the corridor again, and made an effort to knock at the frame as if he hadn’t trespassed at all.
“May I come in?” he asked, worry painted to his face.
“If you must,” I said.
“Mylove,” he cried, looming into a crouch and collecting my hands with both his. “I cannot express my apologies enough. I-”
“You completely abandoned me in front of your father? Yes. I recall,” I snipped. “I was there.”
Josie busied herself at the mirror.
“Yes.” He took a deeper breath and inched closer to the settee. “That is my weakness,” he confessed.
“What is?” I asked.
He swallowed hard. “My father. I struggle to defy his ideals of tradition, especially in the presence of him or the council….But just because I do not speak against them does not mean I agree with them.”
I straightened. “A few men burn a few horses and say leave the woman queen, and you cannot defend her? Your wife? Our marriage?”
“I did not know what to say,” he said.
“I cannot decide if you’re misogynist–”
“No!” he cried.
“Or if your prejudice lies with my heritage instead?”
“I assure you, no.”
“Do I not disgust you? Your outsider wife?” I asked.
“Of course not,” he said. “You do not disgust me. I’ve told you many times that you are beautiful.”
“I’m so glad my face pleases you, but obviously, it is not enough to merit protection from your–”
“You’re absolutely right,” Sam pressed. “I was wrong. So wrong. I will humble myself for it.”
I sat a little taller. Josie pretended to fiddle with something near the desk, but she did arch a brow my way.
“I have hardly the time for games, Your Highness,” I said. “I think I should return home.”
“Please don’t,” he said. “Not before the ball. How bad that would look?”
I closed my mouth, glaring down at him. “Is that all you care about? Appearances?” I asked.
“It’s not,” he said. “But they are important; you cannot disagree.”
Reluctantly, I nodded.
