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“Yes. Dine. Eat. Food. You and me. Alone.”

“Why?” I blurt, certain that whatever is happening I should be embarrassed because I’m bungling it up.

He laughs. “Because I like you, and I want to get to know you better. Things have finally settled for a moment. I have time to think and pursue what I want for a change.”

“You like tall girls,” I say, then mentally kick myself for saying the words out loud as I remember them.

He laughs again. “I just thought we might get on well.”

“I’m with someone,” I say.

“Ah. That mercenary fellow.”

“Yes.”

“Is it serious?”

The herbs once again pulse from their hiding place in my pocket. “Very,” I manage to get out.

“Shame. Well, do let me know if that changes.” And then he leaves.

What. Just. Happened?

“Good talk?” Serutha asks when the prince is long gone and I still haven’t moved.

I shake myself out of it, but the space feels sweltering now.

“Fine, just fine,” I answer, then lower myself onto pillows on the floor.

Ashper still has his gaze locked on the wall, one hand holding a paint palette. His fingers are smeared with dried colors, and an unused brush is lodged behind one ear.

“Ziva, Ashper. Ashper, Ziva.”

The painter pauses long enough to look over and nod. “Good to meet you.”

“And you. We’re very lucky to have you.”

He shrugs. “I like to paint.” Then he sets down his tools, places the used paintbrush in a glass of water, and spins in place, giving us his full attention.

Well, me.

He’s looking very intently at me.

Makes my cheeks heat.

“You have high cheekbones,” Ashper remarks. “And your freckles! It would take me days to get every one just right. Oh, I should like to paint you sometime.”

I can’t find words.

“He means it as a compliment,” Petrik explains. “You’re not an oddity.”

“No, of course not,” Ashper says in agreement. “You’re a rarity. You’re so tall, I can’t even imagine how much paint I would go through to get all your height and details onto a canvas.”

“Thank you?” It comes out as a question.

“Ashper, you’re making her uncomfortable,” Serutha says.

“Sorry.” He turns back around to focus on his work. “I’ve never been good with people. I prefer paint.”

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