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For the next little while, he devotes himself to ensuring that every platter and bowl is clean, and then he looks at me. “Delicious as that was, none of it compares to the taste of your muffin.”
I know what he means—the lemon-blueberry muffin I gave him when he begged me for food by the fountain. But there’s a significant, salacious twinkle in his eyes that suggests a lewd interpretation of the phrase.
Bending my head so my hair falls across my flushed cheeks, I busy myself stacking all the dishes neatly. “You should take this back. Did you get it from the palace kitchen or the kitchen in the House of Bounty?”
“From the House.”
“Well… you should return everything so it can be washed before the gravy and the leftover bits harden. It’s so much harder to get things clean once that happens.”
A half-laugh, half-scoff bursts from his lips. “Your fate hangs in the balance, and you’re concerned about the servants who wash the pots?”
I meet his mocking blue gaze and say simply, “Yes.”
Surprise flares in his eyes—surprise and a flicker of admiration. “Well then. Let us spare the scullery maids the extra effort of scrubbing away hardened crusts of food.” He takes the handle of the cart and rolls it toward the door.
It rushes over me in a flash—the fact that it’s evening now, and that I’ll be alone in this room during all the long hours of the night, with nowhere to sleep except the hard floor… with nothing to do except toss and turn, worry and wonder.
And suddenly I feel that all the hope, joy, and light that I have in the world is condensed into the broad form of the blue-eyed Half-Elf who shouldered his way into my life. We built a camaraderie between us today, a strange partnership fueled by mutual work and common purpose. He’s my tether to the outside, my only route to a future beyond “King’s concubine.” More than that—in this moment, he’s someone I need desperately, like a child needs a cozy blanket or a favorite toy. Facing the empty night without him seems violently impossible—unbearably horrible.
“Wait!” I choke out.
He turns, eyebrows lifted.
I swallow, twisting my father’s ring around on my finger. “Are you coming back?”
“Someone has to stand watch outside your door tonight.”
“Yes, but… are you coming back?”
Smug satisfaction warms his gaze. “Well, aren’t you needy tonight. Could it be you’ve grown fond of my company?”
“Of course not,” I say hastily. “I just… wanted to know so I could… be prepared.”
“Prepared?”
“To fend off your unwanted advances again, if need be.”
His expression cools. “Ah. You need not worry about that. I’ll remain on the other side of the door.”
Shit… why am I so shy around him? I can usually say what I want, right out loud… but with him it’s more difficult. I’m afraid he’ll mock me, or reject me. I’m afraid of myself for wanting him with me tonight. I’m afraid of the King, of the future—so much fear, and it’s suffocating me.
His hand is on the door, about to push it open.
“I need you,” I blurt out.
Rupert freezes. His back is toward me now, so I can’t see his face, but I note the tensing of his shoulders.
“I mean… I want you here, with me, tonight. If you… if you could… if you don’t mind, I… I can’t handle being alone. I need a little… comfort.”
His voice sounds hollow and strange. “I’m not the comforting kind. Distraction and pleasure I could offer, but comfort… I’ve received none in my own life, and I have no practice giving it to others.”
“Comfort or not, I just need you.” The words fall naked and vulnerable from my lips. “I know we’re strangers. By the goddess… I don’t even know your real name, but… please, when you’re done delivering that… please come back. Come inside.” I hear the double-entendre as I say it, but I don’t care. I mean it any way he wants to interpret it.
Without turning around or speaking, Rupert opens the door and shoves the cart out into the hallway. The door swings shut behind him, and the key the guard gave him turns in the lock.
I wait a while for him, thinking about all the ways he might have interpreted my impulsive speech, and about all the things he might want to do with me when he comes back.
I sniff my armpits. I smell decent, despite the exertion of the day. Thankfully the room is chilly enough that I didn’t work up much of a sweat. And I’m still smooth everywhere thanks to the thorough shave I got when I first arrived.
