I do.She blinked slowly.He said so.
My hand went to her on instinct, running over her soft fur.You can’t read his thoughts—
They weren’t thoughts. He talked to us.
I stole a glance at Bennett from the corner of my eye. He was looking out the carriage window, his strong profile silhouetted against the white sky. Besides the tabby cat sprawled on his lap, he was the picture of dignified royalty. Him? Talking to cats out loud? I almost snorted.
I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, I thought to Misty,but nothing has changed. He doesn’t trust me and he certainly does not care about me.
Misty narrowed her eyes. Without warning, she clawed my hand.
I gasped.
The scratch was hard enough to hurt, but light enough not to draw blood. Before I could reprimand her, Bennett turned.
“Are you alright?” he asked. His voice sounded oddly breathless.
My mind blanked, unable to process the pure concern in his hazel eyes as he searched my face.
“I-I’m fine,” I managed to say. “Misty was just being...feisty.”
Bennett frowned at the red scratch, his expression morphing into one I couldn’t quite place. To my utter embarrassment, he raised my hand to his lips and blew on it softly. “Are you sure? Do you need it bandaged?”
My skin tingled at his breath. I yanked my hand away, increasingly aware of Giselle’s raised eyebrows and Misty’s smug presence. I mumbled my assurance and we fell silent again.
What did I tell you?she meowed.
You are a very bad cat, I thought irritably.
She stretched herself across my lap.Only for you, darling.
The rest of the day passed in a similarly uncomfortable manner. Giselle kept winking, either at me or at Bennett. Perhaps it was at both of us. I dozed off in the afternoon and awoke to find my lip rouge smeared across Bennett’s shoulder in a garish red streak. Some had transferred to his collar, though I hardly knew how.
I apologized profusely, only to realize that my face was in a similar state when he tried to wipe my cheek with his handkerchief.
When we finally stopped to settle for the evening, Bennett went off to speak to Lord Frederick, whose eyebrows shot up at my rouge on the crown prince’s neck. I ducked beneath the window, barely able to contain a moan of mortification.
I didn’t know how much more I could take of Bennett’s overfamiliar manner. He would have chewed my lunch for me in the afternoon if I allowed it.
“Why is he treating me like...like some sort of invalid?” I asked Giselle.
She looked up from her sewing, raising a brow. “Because,” she said, tying off a thread, “youwereone the last time he saw you. He’s used to tending to you now, I reckon.”
“He—I...” I struggled for words. The possibility of the crown prince choosing to play nursemaid at my bedside when there was so much reconstruction work to oversee was slim to none. Especially when my injuries were due to my own foolishness.
Giselle held my gaze. “He cares about you, Narcissa,” she said simply.
I scoffed, knowing it was fruitless to argue with her.
When night fell and the camp settled, Maddox came with a bundle of bedding in his arms. “If you don’t mind,” he said, voice muffled by a pillow, “I need to lay out your cot.”
I eased down, taking Misty and Pippin with me as Maddox spread the blankets on the seats of the carriage. Lord Frederick claimed the carriage would be more secure than a tent and urged me to stay inside as we got closer to Alevine.
Maddox straightened after patting down the pillow. His spine cracked and he pounded his lower back, wincing. “If you need anything I’ll be two feet away.”
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Get some rest tonight,” I said, giving him a half-smile. “I’d hate to be ordered around if you become bedridden”
He snorted. “I might just to spite you.”
