There’s the mother I know so well, she thought.
But then Selma shut her eyes and rubbed at one temple with a slight tremble to her white fingers. Adeline felt the brief tightness in her chest melt away, a niggling worry left in its place.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Are you well?”
Adeline took her free hand again; this one was trembling too, and cold. She closed both of her own hands over her mother’s thin fingers, enveloping them in her warmth.
“Fine, darling. I’m fine.” The words were reassuringly steady. She smiled softly and patted her daughter’s cheek. “It’s early, and I’m tired. I may return to my bed for an hour or so. I’ll leave you to your training.”
Adeline swallowed, but dropped her mother’s hand and nodded.
I guess that’s decided, then.
Selma passed the King with a light touch of his arm and a quiet word, to which he nodded and smiled faintly.
And then they were alone.
Adeline swung her arms at her sides.
“So. Good morning.”
We did that bit already, she reminded herself. “Er, again.”
But the King nodded politely at the wall behind her head, and said, “Good morning, again.”
Good grief.
The brooding outsider bit was beginning to wear thin.
Adeline’s eyelids twitched with the effort of not rolling her eyes - though he probably wouldn’t even notice if he insisted on staring at the bloody wall.
“You know, it’ll be quite difficult to train together if you refuse to look at me.”
She immediately regretted it. His eyes shot to hers, and she found them widened with mild surprise. Adeline winced.
“Look,” she began. “Maybe that was a bit harsh, but –”
“No,” he said. “You’re quite right.”
“Oh.”
Right then.
He took in a breath but then faltered, the air catching in his chest. It was as if the words he’d been about to speak had simply scattered away in a great gust of wind. He broke eye contact for a moment, his dark brows pulling together as he tried to gather his thoughts.
She waited.
With his face turned away, Adeline found her gaze catching the sharp angle of his jawline. It couldn’t be helped, really. He was, in some ineffable way, vastly different from any man she’d ever known. Not that she hadn’t known handsome men before - she’d known many. But the King was not handsome in the sunny open way that Ger was, nor was he as refined and polished as the noblemen she’d flirted with over the years. He was unhewn and intense, and somehow all the more beautiful for the frown on his face and the slight jut of his bottom lip.
When he turned back to her she jolted a little at being caught staring, but if he noticed, he didn’t react. His own gaze was as steady as his deep voice.
“I apologise if I’ve been less than polite. I am…” He paused again, clearly weighing the words. “I’m having difficulty with some of your modern customs.”
King Cumhaill stood tall and stately with his arms folded neatly behind his back, but the tight line of his lips betrayed a deep discomfort as he forced himself to hold her eye. Adeline almost wished she could take it back, that he’d look away. She’d nearly forgotten the weight of those crackling hazel eyes, the heat of them.
He went on with that same deliberate air, every word chosen with care.
“Your ancestors had rather strict values. I’m accustomed to a world where it would be improper to be alone with an unmarried Princess, especially one I am not formally courting. I don’t quite know where the line is anymore.”
