Remy waved off the promise of sustenance. “Let’s get the baby fed first.”
As hungry as I was, I couldn’t fault him. I could ignore the delicious smells coming from the kitchen. For now.
“Of course, Your Highness.” The innkeeper hurried away.
“Your Highness?” I stared at the man across the table.
“Surprise,” he deadpanned.
Around us, the other patrons resumed talking, but I still felt their awestruck gazes. It wasn’t every day that royalty visited. “You’re Queen Isabella’s son?”
“Guilty.”
“You’re different,” I said, watching as he brushed gentle fingers against Grace’s delicate cheek.
He glanced up from the baby. “Different how?”
“You know exactly how.” I gestured between us. “A few days ago, you could barely stand the sight of me.”
“That’s not—” He ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, fair point. I was awful.”
I didn’t argue.
He was quiet for a moment, his gaze found mine, and his jaw tightened. “I’ve been an ass.”
“Why?”
“I was wrong about you. I owe you an apology.”
I blinked. “An apology?”
“I assumed the worst about you. I’m sorry for assuming and for the way I treated you.”
I studied his face, searching for signs of the old Remy—the sneer, the condescension. But his expression held only genuine regret. Either he was an exceptional actor, or something fundamental had shifted in him. “When did this happen?” I asked quietly.
“What?”
“When did you stop seeing me as the enemy?”
He met my eyes. “I had time to think as we rode here. You saved us from the nians. Grace is alive because of you.”
Grace gave another small cry.
“May I hold her?” I asked.
With a reluctant nod, he settled her onto my lap. Then he stretched his legs and smiled at the baby in my arms as if he approved of the view.
I pretended not to notice the warmth in his eyes. I wasn’t sure I trusted it. Prince Remy was courteous to the gray-haired innkeeper, respectful to the patrons who’d given up their table, and concerned about Grace’s needs above his own comfort. Wherewas the arrogant man who’d disliked me on sight? Had he truly changed? Or was this new and improved Remy an act?
I stared into Grace’s sweet little face and dropped a kiss on her tiny nose. “Dinner is coming, little one.”
“Your baby is beautiful.” A woman with a face marked by time and laughter had approached our table.
“She is, but she’s not mine.”
The woman tilted her head. “With all due respect, miss, you don’t look like a wet nurse.” Then, perhaps realizing she was dangerously close to discussing breasts in front of the prince, she pressed her palm to her lips.
“We found her in Banvil.” My mention of the destroyed village wiped the contented expression from Remy’s face.
