“I apologize.”
He sighs. “You don’t need to apologize.” He pauses as if considering something. “You’re accustomed to sleeping alone, as am I. We will grow used to one another.”
I’m quiet at this. Mother said all kings keep mistresses and to prepare myself for that. Does his comment mean he doesn’t have them? Perhaps he only sends them away after the deed is done. The thought makes me grimace, and though the king can be, well, boorish at times, I can’t quite imagine him doing something so distasteful. Maybe I’m being idealistic, fancying him someone he isn’t to suit myself. Or maybe…
Maybe this king is different.
“Until yesterday, I’d never slept in a room with a man,” I say in response.
“It may comfort you to remember that I’m not one.”
I clap my hand over a spurt of laughter.
“Was that humorous?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“I’m glad.”
I smile in the dark, and with a final adjustment of blankets, drift off to sleep.
***
When my eyes open to morning light, I’m less surprised to sense someone beside me.
Yesterday, I’d been too shocked by the king’s presence in my bed to notice how cold desert mornings can be. Now that I do notice, the frigid air against my face makes the blankets’ warmth that much more delicious, and I burrow down deeper with a contented sigh.
That sigh turns into a sharp breath as the king lets out a groan and rolls over, his foot coming to rest against my own.
With my back to him, I can’t tell if he’s facing me or not, though what difference it makes, I don’t know. What I do know is that the feel of his skin on mine feels unreasonably nice. It’s afootfor stars’ sake.
I should move. That’s what a respectable woman would do, and that’s what I am.
I remind myself of this a full five times before making an actual attempt. Easing the blankets back, I try extricating my legs as quietly as I can.
Just as I’m about to rise, a hand clamps onto my wrist. I whip around to find a sleepy eye glaring up at me from a nest of blankets.
“Where are you going?” the king slurs.
“I thought to get up?”
He rolls his head back and forth. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten,” he says, “but a dragon never does.”
“Forgotten?” I glance about me in confusion. “Forgotten what?”
The king narrows his already squinting eyes at me. “You owe me a debt, Princess.”
29
Last night made me feel as if the king and I may someday come to understand one another Perhaps we may even be friends.
Looking at him now, scowling and going on about debts first thing in the morning, makes me think that was some fantastical dream I had.
“As I recall,” I say with a sniff of distaste, “you and I entered into a mutually beneficial arrangement wherein you receive a wife who can draw water, and I—”
The king buries his face in his pillow and lets out an incoherent string of grumbling.
I lift a brow. “What?”
