Such a quiet, civilized conversation, the same as the one before our battle and he delivered the most punishing beating of my life. I hadn't felt the pain as much at the time with the adrenaline of battle and the burn eclipsing it, but I felt it after. Ishaan healed major wounds but left the bruises, as healers are wont to do, trained as they are to conserve energy.
His gaze touches on the side of my face where he backhanded me.
“You fought well at the Square,” he says.
I incline my head. “It was instructional.”
The ghost of a brief smile touches his pale lips. “As intended. Perhaps you will not require such vigorous instruction again in the near future.”
I say nothing.
“Will you show me Muriel’s gardens then?” he says andsweeps an arm toward the gate, his trailing sleeve a graceful thing, like the half braided blue-black hair that drapes over his shoulder.
I don't want to show him anywhere except to a grave six feet by six feet deep, but I won't anger him when he stands in my District. He can do too much damage, and I won't be the cause of death because of something as petty as poor manners.
But I hesitate. One does not simply take a stroll with the Prince of Everenne. He hasn’t been awake in my lifetime, but I understand this meeting, the gift, and then the walk, can be interpreted by the Houses in many ways.
This isn’t a male in rut who simply wants sex.
“Ishaan put her on bedrest,” Juliette says. “Your Highness.”
He glances over my shoulder. “I will not keep her long.” His tone is. . .familial. An older cousin speaking to a younger. “And nothing will harm your Lady while she is under my protection.”
She doesn’t protest so I walk forward and he falls smoothly in at my side, as if we've gone on leisurely morning strolls countless times before. We walk through the gates, the warriors on post silent as we pass. I signal them not to follow.
The streets are empty. They shouldn't be empty at this time of morning, but I'm glad for it.
He walks staring straight ahead, one arm at rest across his abdomen. An unhurried pace, we walk down the wider cobblestone street, then turn a corner into a narrow alley just wide enough for two people shoulder to shoulder, the tall stone residences on either side of us casting shadows.
The narrow alley emerges into a rounded park, the perimeter laid with tall dense hedges for the privacy of those within. I lead him through the green entrance and stop infront of a fountain. Once again, I wait for him to break the silence.
“I am waking, and I cannot risk sleep again anytime soon.” He seemed pretty damn awake to me on the battlefield, but whatever. “You have a few days yet.”
“Until?”
The Prince turns to face me, and somehow he's now too close. “There are still experiences I have not been granted, even in what most consider a long life. I fear what may happen when I am other than my whole self will not be to your benefit. I have never been kind, Aerinne, in any of my iterations.”
“I don't understand.”
“I know.” His voice is soft, the hand that cups my face softer still. “They will make a sacrifice of you, as they always have to appease my line.” His hand falls away, expression hardening subtly.
There is something ancient and pained in his gaze; it halts my recoil.
“What will you do then?” I say.
The smile isn't a ghost now but it contains the same pain, framed as an exquisite work of art.
“Better to ask, what will I not do.”
I can't look at him anymore, not without my own answering pain crawling up my throat. I turn away, walking blindly to flowers. A stone bench. Trees.
I see none of it. “Why me?”
“The answer is neither short nor simple, and I find I am not yet willing to expose myself to you in that fashion.”
Hands settle on my shoulders, slender and ringed in gold and silver, then slip down to cup my upper arms. He's closeenough I feel the rise and fall of his chest and it's as if we've been here before. As if his arms have slid around and held me fast in some other time, other place.
“The fourth,” I say.
