Page 91 of A Game of Veils

The door thumps shut behind me. Prince Raul stands up from where he was sitting on the edge of my bed. His gaze rakes over me, as searing as always but not remotely cold this time.

“Why are you in here?” I demand.

He takes a step closer but stops before his height can become imposing. His eyes are completely fixed on mine now. “I couldn’t eat. Not after watching you have to grovel in front of the imperial prick like that. I’d have spent the whole time holding myself back from launching myself across the table and bashing in his arrogant face. Or wringing that treacherous redhead’s skinny neck for what she did to you.”

The fury in his voice dwindles with a tightening of his tawny face. “And I can’t do any of that. You were right. There’s so fucking much I can’t do for you.”

A lump rises in my throat at those last words and the anguish running through them, but my tone stays tart. “And you thought startling me in my bedroom was a good alternative? How the fuck do you even keep getting in here?”

My profanity provokes a trace of a smile across Raul’s lips. “We need to keep a few secrets.”

In other words, no matter how much anger he showed on my behalf this morning, he doesn’t fully trust me. There’s a part of him that still wants to keep me on my toes.

Which means I can’t trust him either.

I cross my arms over my chest. “You still haven’t answered my first question. What are you doing here? I didn’t expect you to beat up Marclinus or Fausta or anyone else for me, so you don’t need to justify the lack of violence.”

Raul spreads his hands. His voice takes on the husky note I find annoyingly compelling. “I can’t get vengeance on those who deserve it yet, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do anything at all. I’d like to remind you of how a princess should be treated, in one of the few places where I can actually follow through. Whatever you want, you only have to ask for it.”

The offer sends a heady pulse through me, but I arch one eyebrow in response. “I don’t suppose you’re angling for me to request any particular sort of ‘treatment.’”

Raul’s smile stretches into a grin, too crooked to be completely cocky. “Have I imagined having you gasping and moaning in that bed? Absolutely. I’d erase every memory of that asshole’s touch. But I won’t find it remotely satisfying if you’re not just as eager for it. I don’t put my hands where they’re not wanted.”

When I hesitate, he steps a little closer. His pale blue gaze holds mine. “You’ve been looking out for so many people other than yourself since you got here, haven’t you? While everyone puts you through the wringer. No matter how strong you are, you must be getting exhausted. I mean it when I say you can ask for anything. What do you need most right now, Princess?”

Gods, what a question. I stare at him, doing my best to ignore the heat he’s stirred beneath my skin.

I’m not tumbling into bed with this princely rake. I would like to get my weight off my aching legs.

My gaze slides across the room and lands on my vanity. The idea flutters up with a pang of longing that seems almost absurd.

It might be nice, just for once, to be taken care of in much simpler ways by someone who isn’t obligated.

I walk over to the padded stool and seat myself in front of the vanity. My silver-handled brush is already lying out. I motion to it. “My hair has barely been brushed since yesterday, and my ribs still hurt when I lift my arms. You could see to that for me.”

A snort escapes the prince. “Are you attempting to put together an entire collection of maids now?”

I glance at him over my shoulder. “Did you not mean ‘whatever I want’ after all, only what doesn’t threaten your dignity?”

Raul narrows his eyes at me, but his smile stays in place. I don’t think he’s really offended.

Suddenly I can’t help remembering the remark I thought Lorenzo made this morning when I mentioned telling Raul off. That he liked it.

Maybe he actually does enjoy being provoked, because he saunters over and picks up the brush. “I can’t say I have much practice at this, but I’ll give it my best shot.”

“It’s a remarkably simple process,” I have to point out.

He chuckles and brings the brush to my hair. The moment the bristles graze my scalp, I realize I might have made a slight miscalculation.

He’s standing so close the warmth of his body tingles over my skin. The rhythmic stroke of the brush sets off even giddier quivers down my neck.

The act never felt quite so intimate when it was a maid handling it.

A flush starts to rise up my neck. I grope for a topic to distract us, and my eyes catch on the scarring across his no-longer bandaged knuckles in the mirror.

“Did the salve help at all? If you deigned to try it?”

Raul’s fingers trail across the back of my neck as he eases some of my hair back over my shoulder for ease of access. “It does seem to move the healing process along faster. Too bad you can’t use it on your bones.”

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