In the candlelight, the darkness of his eyes seemed to shift—like pools beneath a night sky that begged to draw her in. She straightened away from him. He was right, the glamour had not been meant for her. It was only another tool of the fae, and if the prince wanted her to be drawn to him, he would not be trying so hard to push her away.
“Forgive me,” she said quietly. “I will leave you to your work.”
Halfway to the door, she stopped at the sound of his reply.
“Perhaps… a book might help to occupy your time. Feel free to take along whichever were of interest to you.”
CHAPTER4
Mireille had taken a pair of books from the prince’s study that appeared well-worn. The first included diagrams of a variety of plants and their root systems, and the second was a thin volume of poetry in a language she was less familiar with. Perhaps it was true that she would not find his secrets, but it might at least bring her some understanding of the man. She could appreciate the responsibilities of a title and the desire to hold distance or withhold trust—the very behaviors she practiced with him—but Mireille could not help but wonder what else might be behind the prince’s taciturn manner.
She wished very much that he had not brushed aside her comment regarding any princesses who might have come before her.
Back in her suite, Mireille sat with her feet curled up on the settee while Thomas settled in the chair nearby. Dressed in a dark blue coat and breeches, he appeared as dapper as any of the fae she’d dined with, though considerably more weary. She gave him a brief summary of her evening’s events before asking about his own. “You seem to have survived, at least. Did all go well?”
He shrugged his shoulders, adjusting his jacket. “Wellmay be too strong a word, but I was able to gain my bearings a bit and met a few members of staff.”
“Anything of use?”
“It seems the palace staff is eager to have you. So that’s something. Past that, I’m not certain what either they or the prince gains from the bargain. Noal was keen to assist with anything I asked…”
“But?”
His gaze slid to hers. “I do not believe he’s dressed you in the style of court.”
Mireille nodded. “So it seems. I overheard the prince giving him a thorough set down. The household may be encouraging the prince in ways he is not comfortable with. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to know if this makes them our allies or simply another obstacle to overcome.”
He nodded, though his mouth had gone flat. “Evidently staff is also aware that the queen has shown interest in the relationship between Westrende and Rivenwilde. There is speculation as to how it might shape the future of the realm.”
When Thomas went quiet, Mireille realized her hand had slid protectively over her throat. She dropped it. “What else?”
Thomas’s finger tapped the plush arm of his chair. “It was brought to my attention that there is a lovely piano in the music room. Twice.”
She frowned. “I’ve not played in years. How would they have guessed I once had an attachment to such a thing?”
“They’ve evidently made inquiries.” He gestured to the console table near the door. “And look there.”
Mireille followed his indication, finding the table had been set with a bowl heaped with oranges between a pair of orange blossom bouquets. “Well,” she said. “We will certainly be looking into the history of oranges.”
Thomas hummed in agreement, but it was not the satisfied sort. It was the sort that held an undercurrent of concern. If Mireille had to guess, she would say it was owing to the time they had left, and that it was already dwindling away.
But she did not have to guess. Thomas had told her repeatedly how displeased he was with her plan. He wanted her safe. He wanted her alive.
Fate save her, she was trying. The prince’s reserve wasn’t helping. He did not trust her, and she couldn’t be certain it was merely due to her connection to his enemies in Westrende. That they had looked so deep into her past was worrying. Mireille hoped very much they had not looked as far into Thomas and his skillset, or his access to the palace and its staff might be cut off.
She said, “So, tomorrow night I attend a private dinner and you…”
“Find the dungeons,” he finished.
She dropped her head back onto the settee. “Capital. All we need now is to figure out how to thwart a queen who is all-powerful.”
“She’s not all-powerful. Everyone has a weakness.” Thomas stood. “Mine is cheese.”
Mireille smiled up at the ceiling as Thomas made his way to the doorway. He sank easily to the floor in front of the door to the corridor, tucked a hand beneath his head, and crossed his legs at the ankles before his eyes slid closed.
* * *
It wasmidnight when Mireille rose from her bed. She had no need of a timepiece; it was always midnight when she rose. Bare feet gliding silently across the cool stone floor, she made her way to the door of her room. She did not step over Thomas, but stood very near his slumbering form. The understanding that he could not be awoken settled within her, and her body shifted. Drawn toward the corner of the room, she pressed her palm flat to the wall where no door should be. A hidden panel opened.
