Page 89 of The Gilded Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods 2)

I turn to her, catching her hand and stepping closer. “I do own the place. And I am influential.”

She laughs, seeming delighted by the banter.

But as we ride back to Davon in the growing twilight, the princess falls quiet.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask.

“I don’t want to return to Lord Cavinder’s townhouse while Frederick’s not there.”

“Stay in the hotel,” I offer.

She turns to look at me, her hair still golden even as the shadows try to subdue it. “Is that all right?”

“I can’t see why it wouldn’t be. I have plenty of available rooms. It’s not as if I asked you to stay with me.”

“And if I want to?”

Nearly choking, I whip my head over to look at the princess.

She lowers her eyes, and a careful smile crosses her face. “I promise I won’t take advantage of you, Mr. Devereaux.”

“Let’s not make any hasty decisions.”

Sabine laughs, meeting my eyes. “Perhaps a separate room would be a better idea.”

Swallowing my disappointment, I nod.

Looking satisfied, she scoots closer to me, tucking against my arm as she did before, but this time she rests her head against my shoulder. “I’m exhausted.”

“The sun will do that,” I murmur, trying not to examine the growing warmth in my chest. When she’s next to me like this, vulnerable without her magic, I feel less inferior—like I could take care of her. Like she needs me.

And like a louse for enjoying it. I’m like a twisted goblin, plucking the wings from a butterfly so she’ll sit on my hand.

“Sleep if you want,” I tell her. “We still have over an hour before we reach Davon.”

Sabine murmurs something, and within minutes, her breathing is soft and even, and her head moves with every bump. Carefully, I scoot closer to the upholstered back of the seat, guiding her with me until she’s safely nestled against me and the rear wall.

The theater is dark when we approach it, none of the lights lit like they are on nights there’s a show, but the hotel’s windows glow.

The theater was Father’s love, but the hotel was Mother’s. She died when I was only a few years old, so I’ll never know what she was like, but it feels like a part of her remains here.

What would she think of Sabine? Would she give us an indulgent smile or call me a fool? And what about Father? What would he do if he knew a part of me—one growing by the day—is considering walking away from the legacy he left me?

If I let Lord Cavinder keep the theater he’s so coveted, could I go back to Faerie with Sabine? Her brother married a human. It doesn’t seem so impossible now, even if Sabine said she’d never walk the same path.

But there’s still the matter of my tether and the fact that Alaric hasn’t returned.

I park around the back when we reach the hotel. It’s grown late, and the streets are quiet, but a groom comes to meet me.

“Good evening, Mr. Devereaux,” he says, whispering when he notices the princess is asleep.

“Sabine,” I say gently, brushing my hand down her hair. “We’re here.”

She stirs, making a soft noise. Carefully resting her head against the bench, I step out of the cabriolet and pull her into my arms, deciding I’ll carry her.

She opens her eyes when we’re halfway up the stairs and blinks several times. “What are you doing?”

“I didn’t want to wake you. I was going to take you to my suite and then go downstairs and reserve a room for you.”