Page 30 of Heartbreak Prince

Only for a second. And then I remember my place.

He doesn’t protect me. I protect him.

“We should go,” I whisper. “Ghost, beast, madman—whatever that was, it doesn’t sound good, and I’d rather not meet it.”

“Agreed.” But his arms keep me locked against his body.

“Vawn.” I wriggle. “Let me go, or I’ll make you. You know I can.”

“Yes, I just… needed…” He exhales, opening his arms.

Snatching our towels, we dry our feet and shove them into our boots. I don’t like the sensation of putting my clean toes back into my smelly boots, but it’s only until we get back to the room. We’ll have to wear the same clothes until we purchase new ones, which I plan to do once we get to Zeletas. I doubt a village this small has a clothing shop, and I’d rather not ask the landlady for castoff clothing, not after Vawn’s cover story. She’d wonder why a married couple with a baby and family nearby would be begging for spare pants and shirts.

On our way out of the bath tomb, I blow out the candles and lock the door. Then we hurry back to our room, with Vawn’s head mostly concealed by its towel wrapping.

Safely inside, I drop my pauldron and belts in the corner. I take off my outer clothing, too, keeping on the underwear and bustier. The rest I drape over the footboard and the bedpost so it can air out overnight. After observing me closely, Vawn does the same.

There’s a new piece of furniture in the room—a small, rickety-looking table, upon which sits a tray bearing two covered plates and two steaming mugs of tea. Vawn grabs a plate and a mug for himself and sits right down on the floor in his silky black undershorts, practically inhaling the food.

I eat quickly too, out of habit. Mealtimes were kept brief at the Academy, to help us become accustomed to a guard’s tight schedule. The food is greasy and hearty, and after so many hours without a meal, it tastes divine.

After cleaning his plate and emptying his mug, Vawn sets them both back on the tray and throws himself onto the bed. His tall frame covers most of the mattress. Worse than that, in his current state of near nudity, every curve and sinew of his magnificent body, from biceps to pectorals to thighs, is exposed to my view.

“Get under the covers,” I snap. “And don’t spread yourself so wide. You’re taking up the whole bed.”

He flutters his lashes at me in mock surprise. “Do you plan to share the bed with me?”

“I could nap on the floor in front of the door like a guard dog. Is that what your Highness prefers?”

“Fuck no. You deserve a comfortable rest.” He pushes back the covers and slides between them, then pats the sheets beside him. “Come here.”

The way he says it sends my entire system into high alert. “I’m not one of your conquests,” I warn him. “We will not be fucking, or petting, or even touching.”

“Hm.” He thumbs his plush lower lip. “In the pool you seemed comfortable with touching me. Or rather, throwing yourself at me.”

“I was—” I stop short and bite my lip.

Glee sparkles in his eyes. “Could it be? Was the bold and beautiful Syth frightened?”

“You’re an asshole.” I set my plate down. “You were scared first.”

“I still am. That’s why you’re going to sleep on that side, between me and the door.” He gives me a saucy grin.

The bath and the meal definitely restored his spirits. He seems to have forgotten that he was angry with me, judging by the way he settles his head on the pillow with a sigh of weary satisfaction. “It’s not luxury by any means, but I think I could sleep anywhere.”

“You did. You slept on Severin.”

“So I did. Believe it or not, that wasn’t the first time I’ve napped during a ride on a magic carpet.”

I cover the empty plates and fix the curtains so they block out most of the daylight. Then I ease myself into the bed and lie back on my pillow. I dislike going to sleep with damp hair, but neither of us has a choice in the matter. We need rest desperately.

But first, there’s something I need to express. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier, about you being responsible for the coup.”

He sighs and shuts his eyes. “You were tired. And it was a decent theory. I can see how you might get that idea.”

“I should have realized it wasn’t true. My weariness is no excuse.” I hesitate, then forge ahead. “It wasn’t the first cruel thing I’ve said to you, and I’m sorry. I should let you experience all this grief and upheaval in whatever way you need to, without judgment.”

Silence stretches beyond the words, until I think he has fallen asleep. But then he says, “You’re a terrible subject. As you said, I’ll be the next king if I survive, yet you speak to me as if I’m the most irritating lowlife bastard you’ve ever met, rather than your future ruler.”