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Little no-name monkey finishes his business before scurrying back inside and climbing up to rest on my shoulder. Another shiver runs over me as he shakes off small flecks of frozen water from his fur, coating me instead.
“Thanks ever so much,” I mutter under my breath before toweling him off.
He only smiles in response and wraps his little fingers around mine. From the corner of my eye, I register Remy leaving the bed to ring for the servants. His eyes dart over to examine me, but I ignore him.
Instead, I take my spot at the small breakfast table, snacking on some of the leftover hard cheese and fruit on the charcuterie board from last night. Monkey practically drools over the remaining dried pumpkin, stretching out a hesitant hand before I stop him.
Between the scones and the fruit itself, he clearly has a taste preference. I hold out a piece for him, twisting it in my fingers, and he follows the movement with rapt attention.
I stress the wordpumpkina few times before handing it to him—focusing on the way he excitedly nibbles away instead of the awkwardness permeating the room.
I hate the tension, but not enough to regret what happened last night. It was an outlet I desperately needed, and I’m not sure what I would have resorted to without his presence to anchor me.
A thought occurs to me, and I break the silence between us.
“I’m on a contraceptive,” I blurt out, finally meeting his attentive gaze. “In case you thought—”
“I didn’t,” he cuts me off, his expression sincere.
Nodding, I face the grazing board in front of me again, handing Monkey another piece of pumpkin.
The faith he still has in me is equal parts frustrating and gratifying. Of course, I had given him the fertility tonic and told him Madame’s plans. But then again, I had come straight from her last night before taking him to bed. For all he could have known, she’d ordered that very thing.
Yet he still expects me to be better than I really am.
It’s idiotic, really. And not at all endearing.
“There are some things I need to discuss with my father this evening,” Remy announces, apropos of nothing. “I thought we would join them for dinner with the court, if you’re up for it.”
“Of course.” My words are carefully neutral.
I didn’t mean for last night to change anything between us, but something has definitely shifted. Remy has lowered his guard, somewhat.
Though maybe that’s more because he managed to guess at the decision that hadn’t quite been cemented in my mind.
The decision to walk away from Madame. To work with him and my sister and Einar, regardless of the risks and incredibly likely consequences.
When a knock sounds at the door, I’m relieved not to have to contemplate it anymore. Hiding Monkey in the nursery with the rest of the pumpkin and some of my jewelry he’s taken a liking to, I return to the main room and allow the maids to transform me into a princess for the evening.
Once I’m cleaned and painted, I’m adorned with a form-fitting silver gown that accentuates my small curves.
Since the maids have picked up on the fact that I carry a purse everywhere, they have provided me with a similarly sized silver one to match my gown this evening. I suspect that they would be appalled if they knew it was transportation for the monkey, but I thank them all the same.
By the time they’re finished, we’re already a little late—a fact the head maid refused to let us forget. I have only seconds to stuff the monkey in my purse before I’m practically shoved out the door and into Remy’s waiting arms.
A small, knowing smirk plays on his lips, and a wave of heat blooms in my abdomen in response.
“I am beginning to wonder who has more purses. You, or your monkey?” His voice is barely a whisper against my temple, and I roll my eyes.
“For the thousandth time, he’s not my monkey,” I fire back under my breath, though that argument is getting increasingly difficult to maintain. “I only brought him so the staff didn’t find him when they were cleaning.”
A deep chuckle resonates through his broad chest, the sound making the warmth inside me spread even more.
“It’s nice to know that you lie to yourself as much as you lie to the rest of us,” he whispers just as the doors to the dining hall open.
The boom of conversation amongst the courtiers cuts off any response I might have had. The rubies hung on the chandeliers cast a red glow, highlighting the tables laden with food and drink. Elaborate candelabras sit in the middle of it all, melting wax dripping down their bases.
Remy escorts me to the head table where the royal family sits. I don’t miss the way the younger ladies of the court scowl or swoon as we pass, remembering that only a week ago they were still hoping for the privilege of being his wife.
