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Still, her eyes assess me and her lips part with unasked questions.
Questions I’m not ready to come to terms with yet—like whether or not I knew about the fire, or whether I would have stopped it if I had. Whether, in spite of every argument I’ve ever made to the contrary, I would have killed those slavers myself if I knew it would keep her from Madame’s wrath.
“In the meantime, what do you plan to do when the staff inevitably discovers said stray, non-menagerie monkey and erroneously mistakes it for the actual menagerie monkey?” I ask it more to cut off that line of questioning than because I actually want an answer.
She dismisses the concern with a wave of her hand, looking every inch the princess she doesn’t want to be. “He’ll be gone before anyone notices.”
The tiny creature clings tighter to her like he understood what she said, and I suspect he has no intentions of going quietly.
But I’ll let her deal with that. I have plenty of my own messes to clean up right now, and hers, without adding yet another complication to my list.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
AIKA
Imake a show of turning away from Remy, whose mood has not recovered from our tour and who seems singularly unamused about the presence of this monkey.
Good.
When our afternoon tea arrives, I slip into the washroom with the monkey, only returning once everyone is gone. The little ball of fluff is at least quiet—as far as contraband menagerie animals go—only making small squeaks and chittering noises every so often.
I have never had pets, or even stray animals that cared to follow too closely when I moved through the city’s shadows. But this creature seems singularly fascinated with everything about me.
His fingers rake over my earrings and the sequins of my gown. He touches my hair and my hands and stares at me with his comically large amber eyes. Two seconds later, his nimble hands have nearly removed my wedding ring.
I bat him away, sliding the golden sunburst back to the base of my finger.
Remy ignores us, choosing instead to take his tea in the private study set aside for him. Which is fine, since I could use a break from the constant tension radiating between us.
When I sit down at the small dining table, the creature climbs down my arm, eyeing the food on the tray. Before I can offer him something, he has absconded with half of my pumpkin scone. I swear he laughs as he climbs up to eat it in the curtains.
Stealing my food is a surefire way to get on my bad side, but he doesn’t appear to be concerned about my wrath. I narrow my eyes at him, and he smiles in return.Bastard.
Once he’s finished with the pastry, he tentatively climbs back down, testing the waters between us as he inches closer.
Almost like he’s apologizing.
Since he’s currently the only thing in these suites who remotely wants my company, I stretch out a cautious hand to him. He climbs onto it, wrapping his tail around my wrist again and pressing his face against my thumb like he’s hugging it.
I haven’t forgotten the stories from the handlers, but he doesn’t try to bite me or scratch me. If anything, he appears to be starved for affection.
“I can’t help you there,” I say quietly, and he blinks up at me. “In fact, it’s time you’re on your way, little guy.”
As tempting as it is to have something here that’s occasionally happy to see me, there is no room in my very complicated life for a pet.
I stand and move toward the balcony, grabbing the other half of the scone as a parting gift. My feet throb with each step, sore from Grandmère’s never-ending tour. The monkey makes a whining noise when we reach the door, clinging to me with his four little paws.
Cold wind whips through the door as soon as I open it, and he hops around to hide under my hair as soon as the first gust hits. I would feel guilty, but his fur is thick and warm. It’s no surprise why the furriers wanted him.
At least now he can escape that fate. Given the number of times he’s apparently outsmarted the menagerie staff, I don’t worry that he’ll be able to fend for himself. Certainly better than I could take care of him here, or anything, really.
Reaching back a gentle hand, I grab hold of his warm body and place him on one of the dormant branches of the sprawling vines that creep up the palace wall. I set the piece of scone next to him before yanking my arm back.
His fingers grasp for mine as I pull away, but I move quickly.
“You’re free now,” I tell him, turning to walk back into the room.
I’ve barely begun to close the doors behind me when a streak of orange runs past my feet and leaps up onto the chair near the fire. Sighing, I take a step forward, shaking my head.
