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“Your Highness,” I reply and take a seat at his bedside. “How are you feeling?”

The question sounds foolish as soon as it leaves my mouth. The prince responds with a pointed look and a raised eyebrow.

“Fantastic,” he replies. His tone is so dry I burst out laughing. His face cracks into a wide smile, but when he laughs, he winces in pain. I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle the laugher.

“Apologies.” I lower my eyes and wipe the smile from my face. “This is no time to laugh.”

“It is always a good time to laugh. Saints, you more than anyone should have more of it.” The prince clutches at his blanket with tight fists but the corners of his mouth curl up in an attempt at a smile.

I sit back and sigh.

“As you do, I am starting to realise.” I run a hand through my hair, catching my fingers on some of the delicate pins.

“Yes, well…Anyway, please make yourself at home. There are books over…” He groans suddenly, holding his ribs.

“Your Highness?” I half-stand.

“It is alright,” he gasps. “Would you…lavender tonic…?”

He nods at a drawer near the hearth.

“Of course.” I rush to the drawer and retrieve the pain relief for him.

He raises his hand to take it, but seeing the quiver in his arm and the pain twisting his features, I wave his hand away.

“Here.” I bring the bottle to his lips and gently tip it. A thin trickle of the fragrant fluid escapes into his mouth. He accepts it gratefully.

“My thanks,” he murmurs. To my surprise, a tear rolls down his cheek. It cleaves a trail in the blood still caked onto his skin. It is followed by another and then several more. My shoulders sag as I watch the prince stare vacantly at the ceiling, his breathing ragged with pain and tears flowing freely. My heart aches. Without thinking, I reach for his hand and grasp it tight.

His eyes flicker to mine, a dark grey in the dim light. Something tugs at me, something I do not understand.

We sit quietly as the lavender tonic takes over, and he drifts off to sleep. I watch his features smooth, and his chest rise and fall gently. I look at our hands, fingers intertwined. Despite the rest of his body relaxing into a deep slumber, his fingers do not lose their grip on mine.

Chapter 14

Irouse from a deep sleep with a groan, eyes bleary. I try to make sense of my surroundings, but everything is tilted sideways. My neck aches, and I realise I am slumped onto the prince’s bed. My head rests on the top of his covers while the rest of me sits on the stool.

I gasp and bolt upright.

“Saints!” the prince yelps.

“Shit!” I yelp in response, equally startled. I wince and groan at the twinge in my neck from sleeping in such an awkward position. The prince regards me, half-sitting against his many pillows with a book in his hands.

“You gave me a fright.” He shakes his head. “You were sleeping quite peacefully until you decided to awaken with such…” He eyes me, frowning in annoyance. “Vigour.”

I rub my neck, my face scrunched while my brain catches up.I am in the prince’s chambers, I think to myself. I stayed with him while he recovered and…I glance at him sheepishly.

“I must have fallen asleep.”

He raises an eyebrow but says nothing. I remember the expression on his face last night—the mixture of hurt and helplessness twisting his features. I remember the cloudy grey of his eyes, open and vulnerable. I search for any traces of it left but his disposition has returned to his usual aloofness. I sigh and stretch to rid myself of the ache in my neck.

I am still wearing the queen’s crimson dress. Despite being more comfortable than other gowns, I doubt it was intended to be worn for this long. The bodice presses into my back and cramps myophid, forcing me to twist to the side and stretch it. I catch the prince glancing at the dress before fixing his eyes back on his book.

“Why did you not wake me?” I ask, looking pointedly at the book he read while I slept unawares next to him.

“You seemed content,” he replies, still reading. He licks a finger and turns the page. “Why? Do you have somewhere to be?”

I look at him so sharply he flinches.