The Queen's Assassin (Queen's Secret #1) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,82
of being on alert morning and night.
He sits on a chair to remove his boots, then climbs onto the wide, fluffy bed. His body sinks into the soft cotton bedding. Newly laundered, smelling faintly of rose water and fresh air from hanging to dry outside the wash building. No creaking old bed frame, no sagging middle of the mattress. This one is stuffed full with fresh down. He was right about it being far better than the room they had at the inn.
Except for one exception, and the loss of her presence makes the room as quiet and unforgiving as his cell in Deersia prison.
Alone in the silence, his thoughts return to last night at the inn . . . Her silhouette behind the screen and under her linen shift. The warmth of her next to him. The way she burrowed herself against his chest, their bodies entwined in sleep. Just last night his hand curved around her waist, and her hair rested against his cheek.
She is the most maddening girl he’s ever met, defiant, stubborn, and impulsive. She doesn’t listen to reason and is much too reckless with her person. Shadow has also made it quite clear that she has no desire for romance or a family and doesn’t care a whit whether he likes her or not . . . and yet. He finds he can’t deny the truth. He hopes she cares at least a little bit, that he is right, that she might be jealous of the duchess.
He falls asleep imagining what would happen if he got up, walked down the hall, and knocked on her door . . .
CHAPTER THIRTY
Caledon
BY THE TIME CAL WAKES up and goes down to breakfast, the duke’s hunting guests are already finished eating. The men have moved out to the gardens to smoke cigars. Footmen and butlers clear their empty plates and scattered utensils. He chastises himself for missing his chance to make inroads with the other titled lords, to gain a little more knowledge about the Montrician court. At least Shadow is still sitting there, sipping hot tea, and the duke and duchess are there as well, waiting politely for her to finish.
The duke looks exactly as he did the prior evening, but the duchess looks like an entirely different person. Her face is clean, with only a touch of gloss on her lips. She wears a simple pastel day dress, and her golden hair is free of the elaborate updo and extensions, pulled away from her face with pearled combs but otherwise trailing down her back and around her shoulders in loose waves.
Shadow catches him looking, and he immediately feels remorseful for having even noticed the duchess, who perks up considerably when she sees him. “Did you sleep well, my lord? I do hope you’re hungry. We made sure to wait for you. Toast? Tea?”
Cal takes a seat next to Shadow. He’s still not hungry after last evening’s feast, but he says, “Tea and toast would be wonderful, thank you.” It is only polite.
“Were the accommodations to your liking?” Duchess Girt asks him, bright and friendly.
“Very nice, thank you.” Waitstaff appears to pour him a steaming cup of strong breakfast tea. There’s a faint orangey scent to it; his appetite returns. Like a comfortable bed, it’s been ages since he’s had good tea.
“Bit quiet, though?” She puts her elbows on the table and gazes at him. “Lonely?”
“Er, no, it was fine, thanks.” He pays intense attention to sweetening his tea in order to avoid looking at her. Still, her attention is much preferable to the stony glares Shadow is throwing his way.
Meanwhile, he can’t help but notice that the duke is anxious to leave and only feigning patience—he clears his throat and snaps the paper he’s reading every few seconds.
“Good-looking young man like you shouldn’t be used to spending nights alone.” The duchess takes a bite of her toast and chews slowly. “I’m sure that’s a rather rare occurrence.”
“Perhaps. One does tire of traveling companions, however,” says Cal, taking a dig at Shadow, who has yet to acknowledge his presence or bid him good morning.
Shadow picks up her teacup. “May I have a fresh cup as well?” The server steps