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“I don’t. I just think it’s sad you have to constantly hide who you are.”
“Says the woman who was whining about a veil.”
“It protects me.”
“I’ll protect you.”
“Are you being deliberately obtuse? I wear it so I can be anonymous. So that one day, when I’ve had enough, I can take it off and not worry about someone pointing a finger and declaring me a whore.”
His lips flattened. “We both know you’re not a whore.”
“I am now. I am in your bedroom—the King’s bedroom—and on my way here, how many people saw my face? It only takes one to start a rumor. How long have I been here?”
“I brought you here just before dawn, and it’s now late afternoon. No one saw you.”
“Did you have any soldiers with you?”
“A few, but they’d never say anything.”
“Are you that naïve?” I snorted. “Soldiers are huge gossips. By now they’ve already spilled about the King and his whore.”
“They wouldn’t dare.” His expression flashed with ire.
I snorted. “They would. And now do you see why I need a veil?”
“You’re not hiding your face.”
“Why are you being like this?” I snapped.
“Because I am not hiding you like a dirty secret.”
“I see. This is how you’re punishing me.” It suddenly seemed crystal clear. “Instead of killing or imprisoning me, you’re going to make it impossible for me to live here. You want me to leave.”
His mouth rounded. “No, that is not what I’m doing.”
“Then what? Do you want a refund because you were offended by my virginity?”
His brows drew together. “I did not pay you for sex.”
“You did. Quite a bit too.”
“That’s not why you gave me your maidenhead.”
“Yeah, well, that was a mistake,” I muttered.
His expression turned blank. “You must be hungry.”
My stomach grumbled in reply. I stared at it. He did too. I won’t deny the heat filling my cheeks. “I could use a bite, but I’m not going into the main hall to eat unless you give me a veil.”
“Why would you want to wear one when they’re so hard to eat with?”
It required sliding food under the fabric, avoiding anything with sauces or juice that would stain the veil. “I am not leaving this room with my face showing. You can either send me up a tray or, better yet, let me go.”
“You’re not a prisoner.”
“You won’t stop me if I make a run for that door?”
“Why would you run?”
