“Is that all, Hazel?” the king asked, cutting her off with a surgeon’s precision.
“Oh—yes, sire,” I stammered. I snatched up my bag and was halfway across the room before the king called after me.
“Hazel?”
I turned, my eyebrows raised, ready to do whatever he bid me. “You’ll remember our little talk today, won’t you?”
My mind picked that exact moment to remind me that Leopold had said he thought I was pretty.
I smiled as brightly as I could. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
Chapter 45
The moment I opened mysuite’s door, I knew Merrick was inside, waiting for me. The air was charged by his presence and filled with the light, sugary scent of a cake too sweet.
I paused for a moment on the threshold, feeling the absurd and pointless urge to flee. Where could I possibly go that my godfather could not? With a deep breath, I entered and shut the door behindme.
“Hazel,” he greeted me from somewhere in the parlor, and for a moment, I couldn’t make him out on the plump black divan. When he stood to greet me, it seemed as if the chair itself had sprung to life, a horrifically large shadow of jumbled angles and moving parts. “Happy birthday.”
“You came.”
I knew I should go and embrace him, let him dote upon me, but my feet were stuck, unable to move, as if I’d wandered into a patch of tar.
“Of course I did.”
I noticed that Merrick made no motion to move closer either.
It stung, but I’d brought this distance upon myself. I’d burned something sacred between us the moment I’d dared to go down a path different from the one he’d wanted. Whatever familial bonds we’d forged, however tenuous, however unlikely, they’d been severed, and I wasn’t sure they’d ever be repaired, no matter how many years I had before me to try.
“Your pup seems bigger than ever,” he noted, gesturing to Cosmos, who was padding happily about the room, wagging his tail like a fool. He had always preferred my godfather to me. Merrick gave better belly scratches.
“He’s gotten fat.” I smiled, not feeling it. “The cook here dotes on him.”
“And you…you look so—” He stopped short, tilting his head as he studied me, taking in every change the year had brought.
“Tired?” I supplied.
“Stylish,” Merrick finished. “So very grown up and lovely. Life at court suits you, Hazel. Far more than the cottage ever did.”
“It’s what you always wanted, isn’t it?”
He cocked his head, his eyes winking curiously.
“When you first gave me the gift, you said I’d become so great that kings would ask for me by name.”
The edges of his mouth rose in a bittersweet smile. “I did.”
“Now they do.”
“That’s good.”
I pressed my lips together. He wanted my contrition, wanted me to keep begging for his forgiveness, a little girl scared of punishments that might be meted out against her. All I had to do was take up that role again and play my part with every bit of the earnestnessrequired.
The trouble was, I wasn’t that little girl any longer.
I glanced down at my hands. They felt ungainly without a task to occupy them. “I smell cake,” I finally said, desperate to find a neutral subject. “What kind did you make this year?”
Merrick frowned as if knowing he was being cajoled. “Chantilly cake with berry compote. Mascarpone frosting,” he added reluctantly.
