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Would she really do it? Would the guards come and chop off his head as soon as it was done? But perhaps that was exactly the kind of death Archie wanted . . . Tragic. Romantic. And he couldn’t imagine wanting anything more out of life if those luscious, berry-red lips were allowed to reach his, even for a moment.
Then, Ainsley moved her thumb to cover his lips so they couldn’t quite reach her, her hand still on his cheek and providing them cover. A stage kiss.
But she was still close. So close. He could smell the lavender in her hair, feel the warmth of her smile. It might only be an illusion, but it was a good one.
And his face was sure to be bright red for all the children to see as Archie was still too young and fair-haired to have grown himself anything but stubble on his cheeks. Curse it all.
The children laughed and cheered. Ainsley pulled on his hand, motioning him to get off his knees and regain his former height—at least a head taller than the perfectly pint-sized princess who still had him completely cowed. He bowed his head while she curtseyed for the crowd.
And when the sound started to die down, he still didn’t know what to do with himself.
Ainsley was still holding his hand.
“I . . . I should go and make the bread,” he said, looking for a dignified way to make his escape.
She only gripped his hand tighter. “Yes. Let’s go.”
Archie blinked. “Do you know how to make bread?”
“No, but I thought you might show me. I am showing you how to hunt.”
Archie winced, but even that movement seemed a game as he couldn’t stop smiling. “Not so loud, Princess. Some of these children still respect me.”
She laughed. “Then you best take me to the kitchen before anything else slips out.”
All right, then. It seemed the princess’s enthusiasm was infectious. Noble and nimble, playful and fierce—Princess Ainsley was a cat, and Archie was a mouse desperate to be caught.
He kept ahold of her hand, leading her back to the kitchen and opening the door. One of the black and silver guards followed, but he seemed content to sneak some sugar from the bowl and pretend to be a part of the furniture.
Archie was starting to ignore them too.
He found an apron for Ainsley’s dress, but even when he tried to keep some decorum with his instructions, the girl would not cooperate. Prattling on about her favorites of the older faerie stories, she dug into the dough eagerly and was especially enthusiastic with the eggs. Archie tried to keep track of all her words, but just watching her seemed enough to overload his senses.
Soon she had a dusting of flour on her cheeks, and Archie couldn’t look away.
He wanted to touch her face like she had touched his, but he didn’t quite dare.
“Well, what do we do now?” she asked, drawing him from the spell. The dough had already been kneaded into a sticky ball. How had it all happened so quickly?
“Now? Oh, well, nothing. It has to rise, so I usually just leave it for the matrons to take care of later.” He quickly busied himself cleaning up the scattered ingredients and doing other small tasks he usually did when he was here. He wasn’t entirely sure what game the princess was playing, but he had to get a hold of himself.
“This is fun!” Ainsley said, untying her apron and dusting away the flour on her own. “I wish I could ask you to do it again next week, but I can’t. Father wants me to tour the kingdom with him. He does it every year to get some time with his lords—now that the roads have cleared up and before the Spring Festival. It might take us a full month to return. But you will still come and make sure the children get their bread, even if I’m not here?”
“I always do,” Archie said, almost offended. Yes, the princess being here was a pleasant bonus, the blessing of a lifetime, but it wasn’t the only reason he came. There was also Sophie and Hamish and the twins who were always breaking something . . . All of them.
Ainsley smiled. “Always,” she agreed, like breathing a vow straight from Anderdolf. “And then we’ll have the festival.” She hung up the apron, but when she turned back around, her face had slightly fallen. “Or we should have the festival. I’ve been asking and asking my father to open up the castle for everyone, like we did before.”
She meant before the plague. It had so many strong feelings attached that people didn’t always like to use the word, but everyone knew what “before” meant.
However, it seemed the princess couldn’t frown for long. “Maybe I can convince him while we are on our tour. And then we can do Anderdolf the Dwarf on a real stage. Everyone would love it!”
Archie gaped. “You want to do Anderdolf at the Spring Festival? Where everyone can see?”
“Of course. Everyone performs for the festival, and I’m sure we can convince the children to come up and tackle you again.”
That was not the point. “But you’re . . . and I—"
“You’re my Anderdolf,” Ainsley said, in the no-nonsense tone of someone declaring it was sunny outside. “Why would I wish to hide you away?”
