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“Fine. Just let me go.” I writhe against him until he finally releases me. But when my hand finds the door handle, his closes around it, trapping me once again.

“Not so hasty, princess.” He ignores my protests. “You haven’t heard my first request yet.”

“Request?”

“If you’re to be my plaything, then you will obey me when I request something of you.”

I roll my eyes.

“Do that again and I will show you what happens when you disobey me. I wasn’t lying before when I said I could fuck you if I wanted to.” His warning tone makes warmth rush through me. I hate how good it feels.

“What is your request?” My cheeks burn.

He grins. “Wear a red gown tomorrow.”

“And what if I don’t have anything red?”

“Buy something in the village. Lux will take you to plenty of gown shops and buy you anything you desire, I am sure.”

My heart flutters. I definitely have a red gown somewhere in my wardrobe, but I’m not actually going to do what he says, am I? Then again, the thought of ‘disobeying’ Castor stirs up just as much heat inside of me.

Guilty heat.

Heat that I should only be feeling around Lux and not his brother.

“Run along now.” He turns my body away. “I’d suggest returning to your bedchamber. Your prince will not be up for at least another hour.” I feel his palm against my rear, squeezing it tight enough to make me whimper as the door opens. “Why don’t you go and sew a dress, or maybe write a sweet letter to your sisters?” he suggests in a mocking tone.

I’m pushed out into the hallway before I can even think of a response.

7

LUX

Something is wrong with Eden.

She won’t meet my gaze like she did last night. This morning, I found her wandering like a ghost outside of my bedchamber. And when I gave her a tour of the manor, she kept looking over her shoulder, past the guard who insists on following her everywhere.

When I asked her if something had happened (I couldn’t shake the thought that her guard had tried to hurt her) she assured me everything was fine and that she’d just had a bad dream. But when I told her I’d take her back to her bedchamber to rest, she just held my arm tighter, insisting we continue with the tour.

I won’t lie and say I hate the way she’s grasping my arm or the way she’s sitting close enough for our thighs to touch as we share my velvet-lined carriage.

Because I don’t hate it. Not at all.

Dare I say she can have ‘bad dreams’ more often.

“You’ll like this next shop.” I kiss the back of her hand. “This is the fabric shop I was telling you about. The one I bought your birthday gift from.” The blue silk I purchased looks even more beautiful against her curvy figure.

I still can’t believe she makes all her gowns herself. I’ve never met a woman so talented, let alone a princess.

Her eyes brighten a little as she peers out of the window. “I can’t wait to see it.”

Helping her out of the carriage, I lead her to a small cottage hidden amongst the autumn trees and blackberry bushes. She gasps at its thatched roof and the little wooden sign hanging above the door.

“Maple’s Sewing Emporium,” she reads out loud. “You mentioned this in one of your letters!”

“I did.” I guide her towards the door. Tiny painted mushrooms decorate the base of it. “I knew as soon as you said you like to sew that I had to bring you here. The tailor who makes our clothes always talks about it.”

“Our?” Her smile fades. “You mean yourself and Castor?”