She sucked hungrily.
“My pleasure, miss.” The innkeeper filled two mugs with ale and waited anxiously for Remy to taste his drink. Even without lifting a glass, I could smell hops and honey and sunshine.
“Excellent ale,” Remy declared after a small sip.
Smiles wreathed the innkeeper’s broad face. “Thank you, sir. Will you be eating dinner? We’re serving rib roast and potatoes tonight.”
My stomach growled.
“Haven has spoken.” Remy’s eyes twinkled at me. “Dinner for three. But we’ll wait for our traveling companion. Do you have rooms available?”
“Yes, sir.” The innkeeper bounced on his toes, and I wondered how soon after our departure a sign declaring “Prince Remy Slept Here” would appear. Not that I begrudged the innkeeper more business. The man had a kind face and seemed to treat women with respect.
“We’ll need three.”
The innkeeper’s face clouded.
“You don’t have three rooms?”
“Two, sir.” He sounded ready to cry.
Remy waved away his concern. “No matter. Zane and I will share.”
The innkeeper gulped. “General Stark as well? I can move someone, sir …”
“Absolutely not. We don’t mind sharing.” Remy frowned as if he’d just spotted a problem. “What’s your name?”
The innkeeper tugged at his collar. “I apologize, sir. Ishould have introduced myself straightaway. My name is William. William Connell. And this is my inn.”
“Well, William, two rooms will do nicely.”
William gave an unhappy nod and left us to our ale.
The silence between us stretched comfortably. I fed Grace, and Remy seemed content to sip his drink and watch.
I looked up and found him watching me. Me. Not Grace. “You seem to have mellowed.”
He put his mug on the table. “I changed my mind.”
“About?”
“You. You surprised me.” His expression clouded. “Most women are more interested in the crown than the man.”
“You assumed I was like them.” I wasn’t. Neither title nor man interested me. That was only half a lie.
“I made a mistake. You’re smart and … strong.” He was trying. I wouldn’t hold his patronizing comment against him. Much.
“So are you.”
He chuffed a laugh. “I’ve had to be.”
A sarcastic retort formed on my lips. He was a prince. He’d never known hunger or poverty or—no, that wasn’t fair. I had no idea what expectations had been placed upon him. Perhaps he’d bowed beneath their weight. Maybe he’d known hardships. I swallowed my sarcasm and said, “Me too.”
“Grimswood?”
“It’s a neighborhood in Altos. Beset by crime and poverty. Plus, it’s Legacia, and I’m a woman.”
“I noticed.” His eyes were warm.
