“Nothing,” Willa said. “It’s nice to see the newly-mated so clearly devoted to each other.”
“We’re not—It’s not—” I gestured randomly with my knife. “We have a professional partnership based on mutual respect and shared goals.”
“Of course you do, dear,” Quinn said in a tone that suggested she didn’t believe a word.
I gave up and focused on my carrots.
But I couldn’t stop myself from glancing across the square every few minutes, catching glimpses of Raoul laughing with the villagers, his face more relaxed than I’d seen at the palace. Each glimpse made my belly flutter in ways that had nothing to do with hunger.
This was a problem. A very large, very complicated, very inconvenient problem.
By the time the sun began setting, the square had been transformed. Tables were set for dinner. Big pots of stew had been placed at regular intervals for serving. And rolls overflowed the baskets.
The bonfire crackled in the center of the square, sending sparks up into the darkening sky.
I sat between Raoul and Willa, with Quinn and her family across from us. The conversation flowed easily, everyone sharing stories and laughter.
“Tell us about the palace,” Quinn said, bouncing her toddler on her thigh. “Is it as grand as they say?”
“It’s carved into the mountain itself,” I said. “The great hall has columns that look like they grew from the stone rather than being carved. And the view from the launching platform…” I paused, remembering. “It’s breathtaking.”
“I hear Raoul used to spend hours up there as a boy,” Sebastian said. “Drove his poor mother to distraction, always wanting to fly when he should be studying.”
Raoul laughed. “I was a terrible student. Too restless to sit still for lessons about trade agreements and diplomatic protocols.”
“It worked out well, however,” Piper said. “You’re the best king we’ve had in generations, if you ask me.”
I glanced at Raoul and found him looking uncomfortable with the praise, his jaw tight. I took his hand under the table, giving it a squeeze.
His fingers threaded through mine, holding on.
We didn’t let go.
Quinn’s little girl began to fuss, and Quinn sighed, looking down at her half-eaten dinner.
“Here,” I said, rising and going around the table, holding out my arms. “I’ll take her. You eat.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. I’ve finished.”
Quinn handed over her daughter, and I carried her back to sit beside Raoul. Once settled, the little girl leaned against my chest, her thumb finding her mouth. Within minutes, she was asleep.
I looked up to find Raoul watching me, his expression making my breath catch and my heart race.
The noise of the celebration faded into the background until Willa spoke, breaking the spell, and I looked down, my face heating.
But Raoul didn’t look away.
The music started after dinner. By then, Quinn had finished eating and taken her child back to her cottage to lay her down for the night.
Someone produced a fiddle, another a drum, and a third pulled out a wooden flute. Lively music rang out, the kind that made feet tap and bodies sway. Couples began moving toward the open space near the bonfire, spinning and laughing in the firelight.
I watched from my seat at the table, happy enough to observe.
Raoul stood and extended his hand to me. “Dance?”
I stared at his hand like it might bite me.
