“I’ll oversee your things,” Aileen says. “Make sure they don’t put your dresses where they don’t belong.”
“I asked for different rooms,” I tell her. “Not the ones Queen Hilde used.”
She pauses, then nods.
“That’s kind of you.”
“It felt right,” I say. “She loved this place. I don’t want to disturb that.”
I walk inside alone.
The villa is beautiful in a quiet, intimate way. The floors are worn smooth. The walls bear the marks of care rather than neglect. Someone loved this house deeply once; it shows in every corner.
Voices drift toward me from further inside.
“I appreciate it. It’s no small thing, finding men who know when not to speak,” Lord Ashford is saying.
Rowan laughs.
“You always did have particular standards.”
“Standards keep people alive,” Ashford replies lightly.
I slow down without meaning to.
“You’ve chosen well,” Ashford continues. “Every one of them.”
Rowan’s voice softens.
“She deserves that much.”
They sound easy together. Familiar. As if this is not the first house, or the first danger, they have shared.
Rowan departs, footsteps fading. I step forward.
Ashford turns before I speak.
“It’s unseemly to watch people,” he says mildly. “Even moreso to listen in.”
“I didn’t mean to,” I reply. “How do you always know when I’m near?”
He smirks. “I pay attention.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“It wasn’t meant to.”
I study him. “How often,” I ask carefully, “do you make sure I’m all right without my knowing?”
His eyes gleam with something like amusement. “Often enough.”
“That’s not comforting,” I say.
“Good,” he says. “Comfort makes people careless.”
I fold my arms. “You enjoy this bickering far too much.”
“Only a little,” he says and turns to walk away. He stops, turns around and leans closer. “And only with you.”
