at his smug son, who is watching Jacob closely. “However, he can’t do this without a queen at his side.” There’s some stirring in the room, and I notice several of the young ladies, including Lady Theresa whom I met before, sitting upright in their chairs, eyes sparkling with interest.
Well, she’s welcome to him, I want nothing to do with the royals. Glancing at the man attached to my arm, I change my mind. Other than Jacob.
“Starting tomorrow, we will begin the quest to find his queen. All noble ladies will be screened, and those deemed suitable will go through to the next round.” Nervous excitement fills the room as the ladies start animatedly chatting amongst themselves, but the king isn’t finished. “Not attending your screening is signing your death warrant, so don’t disappoint me.” The king stares directly at us as he speaks, and I know this is aimed at me. My stomach drops and I feel like I’m going to vomit.
“Can we leave now? Please?” I request quietly, but that doesn’t hide the catch in my voice. Jacob looks at me with concern as he tightens his hold on my arm and leads me from the room. People are watching us, I can feel their stares, trying to work out if I’m involved with the prince, or if he’s just assisting me, but I can’t deal with them right now.
So, with what feels like the whole hall observing us, I walk into the corridor with the son of my enemy.
As soon as we leave the hall and enter the corridor, there’s a noticeable difference in the temperature, and I sigh gratefully at the coolness in the air. This part of the castle has windows, unlike some of the hallways in the older part of the castle. Now that we’re out of sight, we allow our steps to slow, which I’m grateful for. I’m still getting used to walking in shoes, and even though Jayne found me some flat ones that matched my dress, they still rub.
“I’m sorry.”
The words take me by surprise, and I frown as I turn to look at the prince. I almost don’t recognise him. Something has changed, and while I don’t blame him, I mourn the innocent happiness that he had. His life as the youngest of three royal sons shielded him from a lot of the harder parts of existence.
“What do you have to be sorry for?” I ask softly, but he answers me with another question, his eyes hardening.
“Were you there yesterday? I went looking for you, but I couldn’t find you,” he queries, and I bite down on my lip before I can stop myself. Hopefully, he takes that as a sign that I’m nervous after yesterday rather than the fact that I don’t know how to answer him. I was there yesterday, but he wouldn’t, and he obviously didn’t recognise me without my blonde hair. Seeing my indecision, he pulls me over to an alcove and raises a hand to my face, tracing a finger over my abused lip that I’m still biting. “I was worried that…”
“I was there, but I got away pretty quickly,” I reply, feeling awful about lying to him, but I can’t tell him the truth about me, especially not now.
“So, you saw what happened then.” It’s not a question. I simply nod, reaching out and taking his hand, squeezing it gently. His gaze locks on our intertwined fingers, something about them making him pause before he rubs his thumb over my fingers.
“I’m sorry about your mother,” I murmur, and I mean it, but his reaction isn’t what I would have expected.
His head jerks up, scanning the corridor around us to see if we’ve been followed, but we are alone. When he looks back at me, his expression is furious, and I automatically flinch away from him. Faces like that always meant bad news as a slave, and the action was ingrained within me. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice.
“You need to be careful. That could be taken as treason!” he practically shouts, and I take a step back, releasing his hand as my back presses against the stone of the arched alcove. He doesn’t seem to notice or care that he’s scaring me. The anger that dwells in me flares at the threat, running through my veins and hardening my thoughts as a tingling sensation starts to build up along my skin, growing with each second.