Page 24

“Quickly,” he whispers.

“Halt!”

We freeze as a guard comes charging down the corridor. He gives a slight bow to the prince before turning to me.

“You were meant to be in your chambers.” He scowls. “The king has summoned you. I know the maid delivered the note.”

He makes to grab me but the prince’s hand shoots out and grabs his arm first.

“Miss Shivani is busy with me tonight,” the prince speaks, voice low. He throws the guard's arm back at him. “You may tell the king that.”

The guard glances between us before giving a proper bow.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he says, lookingcontrite, before darting away. I do not breathe even as the sound of his armour fades away.

The prince swiftly opens the door, and we hurry inside, slamming it behind us. He begins to say something, but I am distracted by the luxury of his chambers.

It is almost a self-contained home by itself. There are a few doors leading off into what I assume to be washrooms. One of them is open to reveal a large closet lined with various royal clothing. A twinkling chandelier hangs in the centre of an ornately carved ceiling. One wall is dominated entirely by a large, red-brick hearth. It is still lit, ensuring the room is thoroughly heated. The glow of the fire bathes over me and sets me somewhat at ease. I may not have had any of the other comforts the castle offers me, but sitting in front of a warm hearth is a familiar thing.

“Miss Shivani?” the prince’s voice eventually penetrates my thoughts. I blink and turn to him.

“Pardon?”

“I was saying I shall have the maids fetch you hot tea with sugar. And some brandy from my stores. I have found it helps during…” He stutters to a halt and coughs uncomfortably. “Stressful times.”

I press my back against the door, eyeing him warily.

“You do not appear to agree with yourfather,” I say. He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue. “So why did you act such a bastard at our dinner?”

His eyes grow large before his face breaks into a wide grin. It is as though I see his real face then. A break in the clouds when the sun shines through. He lets out a bark of laughter.

“My apologies,” he says. “I did not trust you at first.”

I squint at him, incredulous.

“Youdid not trustme?” I screech and spread my hands. “What could I possibly have done when I have not evenmetyou before?”

“The king has spies,” he says plainly. He clasps his hands behind his back, and his face turns sombre once again. My hands drop to my sides, a short, humourless laugh escaping my throat at the absurdity.

“You believed me a spy. Me. Do I truly look like a spy?”

“If spies were obvious, they would not make very good spies, would they?” the prince snaps, his veneer fracturing for a second before he composes himself again.

“Very well, I will concede to that,” I reply. He tilts his chin up, appeased. “So, your heartless, haughty attitude was an illusion? For the king?”

He bristles at my description but ignores it.

“Yes.”

“And now you do not think I am a spy?”

“No.”

I wait for him to elaborate, but he does not, his jaw clenched tight.

“Are you going to tell the king? About…” I gesture vaguely outside. His face softens.

“No. I will not tell my father a word.”