Page 89 of Her Royal Houseguest

It took all his restraint to keep himself from smashing the teapot in fury.

Chapter Thirty-One

It took all of Anna’s strength to walk away from Deva. In fact, it took more than her strength. It took pride. Pride in herself for refusing to accept poor treatment. Pride that said she deserved better than someone who would purposely throw insults at her. And pride that she could walk away from someone she loved and not crumble.

Because she still loved him. Didn’t everyone get angry? Wasn’t he allowed some grace? His brother had severely hurt their cause tonight. Deva was right to be angry.

He was not right to turn his fury on her. He was angry because he lusted after her? Well, join the club! She was constantly aroused around him. But she didn’t try to hurt him.

He was the one who taught her that actions had consequences. She could not allow bad treatment to go on. He’d meant with her servants but the point applied to him, too.

But what was a rational, fair consequence to a prince who had hurt her? What he’d said wasn’t all that bad. He called her country backwards. He called his mission cursed. But he had been looking straight at her when he said it and used words that he knew would cut her to the quick.

So it had been directed at her. It had been on purpose. And she was still reeling from the pain of it all. After spending these weeks seeing her as a whole person, he had purposely undercut that foundation until she found herself floundering again in self-doubt.

Except she wasn’t floundering. She was standing in her worth and she would not give it up again for anyone. Even him.

Oh but the pain of that betrayal. An aching sob welled up from deep inside her. She slapped a hand over her mouth then ran to her bedroom. She curled up there with her face pressed to a pillow. No one would hear her sobs.

Except someone did. Someone who apparently slipped into her bedroom because she hadn’t shut the door properly. Someone who gently set a hand on her shoulder.

She jolted, turning to see Prince Vaji standing there with his hand outstretched. He had changed into servants’ attire. Indeed, it looked like a spare uniform from Clarke. She would have to help him buy English clothing now. Ones appropriate for a royal prince.

‘My deepest apologies for disturbing you, Lady Anna. I come to discuss your distress, if you will allow it.’

If she would allow it? She glanced towards the door. It stood wide open. It wasn’t appropriate for him to be here but she could hardly criticise him for this given how lax she’d been with society’s rules when interacting with his brother.

She swallowed her tears. ‘There’s not much to discuss.’

He withdrew his hand, standing before her as he had so many times when dressed in saffron robes. His hands were clasped before him and his head was slightly bowed. ‘Of course not, my lady,’ he said, his tone excruciatingly respectful. ‘For me to discuss my brother’s actions this night would be to suggest that anyone was in the wrong except myself.’

‘More than one person can make a mistake,’ she said gently.

He dipped his chin in acknowledgement. ‘I should like to tell you a story of my childhood. Of growing up in a harem.’

She straightened on the bed to face him squarely. Indeed, she wished for the tea tray now because it seemed like this was a tale to be told over tea or brandy. ‘Would you like to sit down, Prince Vaji?’ She gestured to the chair set near her dressing table.

The man shook his bald head. Would he grow out his hair now? She rather hoped not. He had a well-shaped head.

‘It appears that English people believe a harem is one palace housing many women, many children all crammed together.’

She nodded. That was exactly what she’d thought.

‘The area around the golden throne encompasses many palaces, each housing a wife and her children, plus servants. Some of the lesser ladies might share, if they are related. Sisters or cousins.’

Didn’t the king have more than twenty wives? ‘There must be a great many palaces.’

‘There are. And the princes stay with their mothers until it is time for them to enter school. We still live near our mothers but in a place for young men to be educated.’

‘How old were you when you left?’

‘I was eleven—late but only by a year. Most princes make the change around ten years of age.’

‘I see—’

‘Prince Deva was sent there at the age of seven.’

She jolted. ‘Seven! But that’s hardly out of leading strings in England.’