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Mouth flattened, I nod again. Words are failing me at the moment.
Maybe it was the roughness of last Quiet, or the undercurrents of danger in his voice, but the courage to speak is lost on me.
“No matter these changes,” he warns me, “it is in your best interests to hold onto that fear of me. It will serve you well, making the difference between life and death.”
In the mirror, my face twists into something baffled and confused.
His grip on my hair tightens at the nape of my neck. “I expect not to hear about your visits to the kitchens again, am I clear, April?”
“Oh.” My voice comes out in a whisper. “I didn’t know.”
“Now you do.” His tone is suddenly hard and commanding.
“I understand,” I tell him.
Gripping onto my hair, he tilts my head back to expose my cheek to his mouth. Smirking, he plants a dangerous kiss there.
“I have business,” he tells me, releasing my hair.
I blink at him.
Am I now to know of his comings and goings?
“I will return for dinner. Wait in the Hall for me, no matter how delayed I am.”
I smile in answer, something forced and tight.
He leans into me, planting a kiss on the nook of my neck before he steps back. He runs me over once in the mirror before he takes his leave.
I notice the seamstress doesn’t pinch me again.
And then I wonder something that churns my stomach.
Is the prince’s business with the litalf princess?
It’s not something I should worry myself about. Two months, I tell myself. I have two months left. Less even, by a week or so.
That’s what I need to focus my emotions on. Not the prince and his on-and-off again engagement to some light fae.
Focus on me.
