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The woman wasn’t going to let it go. Clare shouldn’t care what she thought. Told herself she didn’t care, but that it would be easier—neater—if Alys didn’t hold a grudge against her because of a misunderstanding.
“Fitz hates me,” she told Alys plainly. “Based on that feeling, he did something that had consequences he didn’t expect. Now he feels guilty about it. I imagine he’ll recover from the feeling in a few days and return to an uncomplicated view of me. As for Numair, he’s my friend.”
“And that ‘friendship’ has nothing to do with the fact that he’s a prince?” Skepticism coated Alys's words.
If it wasn’t for the fact that, underneath the skepticism, it was obvious the woman still cared about Numair—and for the fact that he still cared about her—Clare would have snapped out something cutting and left. As it was, she had to put it in a way Alys would understand. “Do you think I am stupid?”
Alys blinked. “No.”
“Then understand that I understand there are no material advantages to being his friend. Everyone will think he’s bedding me. If they think he’s not, they’ll worry he actually likes me, which will be even worse.
“I am not trying to use him, Alys. I am not trying to marry him.” Inadvertently, a truth she hadn’t realized slipped free. “I need him. And he needs me. Interfere and you will regret it.”
It was the threat that seemed to finally convince Alys, to make her smile. “Then I suppose I won’t.”
“You could be nicer to him, you know? When you come back. He never stopped being your friend.”
Alys blew out a breath. “My parents were the ones who forced me to quit that acquaintance, though I can hardly say I blamed them. Now that they’re gone…we’ll see. You have not been here long. You have hardly scratched the surface of his reputation.”
Clare deliberated, choosing her words with care. “I’m disappointed. I would have thought you, of all people, could tell the difference between a reputation and a person. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
She left Alys in the kitchen and went to her room—to find the object of their previous discussion lounging on her bed. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who had a propensity for sneaking in through windows. Given her and Numair’s earlier conversation, she hadn’t expected to see him so soon, and wondered if the only reason she was now was because of that conversation.
He had one knee drawn up to his chest, looking out the window as Alys strode across the lawn to the stables. If he’d overheard any of their conversation, it didn’t show on his face. His voice came out a little hollow, a little tight. “Figured I’d find you here. Didn’t figure I’d find her. Has she been here the entire time?”
“As far as I know. She does a terrible job of playing stable girl.”
He didn’t laugh. He had that same pensive, wounded expression he’d worn when he’d first realized Clare knew where Alys was. “Is she all right?”
“She will be. Once we solve her little…problem.”
His jaw clenched, mouth setting in a firm line. “I want to help.”
She opened her mouth to tell him he couldn’t. Not because she didn’t want him to, but because Alys would likely abandon the plan if Clare arrived to their meeting the next evening with him in tow.
But Numair looked oddly vulnerable, sitting on her bed, his boots discarded nearby on the floor, his hair tousled. Dark circles lurked beneath the glamour on his face. She had the sense that he needed to do something—something helpful that he could feel good about—and she didn’t know what it would do to him if she told him no.
“I can’t tell you what we’re doing. I made a few promises, where that is concerned. But I can tell you that, should you happen to find yourself in the vicinity of the Megadari’s estate tomorrow evening around the twenty-third bell, you might find a way to make yourself useful.”
“Thank you.” He reached for his boots.
“Stay.” The word came out less of a request than a command.
His fingers paused above one boot. “You’re exhausted.”
She didn’t point out that, beneath his glamour, he looked worse than she felt. “Doesn’t mean you have to go.”
“I’m in a piss-poor mood.”
She snorted. “Then shut your princely mouth and go to sleep. You look awful.”
“Verol won’t take it kindly if he finds out.”
“I won’t tell him if you don’t. Any other concerns you’d like me to allay?” She took the second pillow off the bed and pulled a spare blanket from the armoire, making the kind of bed she was far more accustomed to.
“I can take the floor,” Numair offered.
“It’s fine.”
