Page 62 of The Queen's Line

I laughed and Thao nipped at my jaw, cupping and squeezing me through my pants. "I want to tell her the truth soon," I moaned, bucking into his hand. "I hate not being able to shift with you. I miss my tiger."

Thao nodded and shrugged. "It's your decision. I trust her too."

I slid my arm over his shoulder as we left the room, my hand digging into his hair and making him groan as he palmed my ass. We were running for one of the southern exits toward the lake when I saw movement from the corner of my eye, a guard rushing forward to us, Cresswell Stark. My steps stalled, Thao glancing at me in confusion.

"Is the Princess in the training room?" Stark asked.

I shook my head. "She left a few minutes ago. Probably to her rooms or…" Or wherever her other Chosen were.

"There's a council carriage arriving." He looked so…dire, as if this were unexpected or terrible news.

I glanced at Thao, who was glaring back at the guard. "The council may wait on the princess," he said. "She doesn't answer tothem."

I sighed and straightened. So much for our swim in the lake. "If there's more than three of them, we should see them in the grand hall, otherwise I think an informal visit in the greenhouse is more than suitable. Your Hi—" I paused, blinking at Thao, who only raised an eyebrow. "Would-would you go and see if you can find her, just to let her know there are guests?"

Thao grinned at me, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I was playing steward again.

"Of course," he said, heading for one of the side halls that would take him past Cosmo's studio.

"We'll await their arrival at the door," I said to Stark, who nodded as I moved to follow him. I was dressed carelessly, and the visit had obviously been intended to catch us off our guard with no warning of their arrival. "Who would've been following the princess?" I asked Stark as I fell into step with him.

"Guard Yorley. I'll track him down when this is done."

"Thao may run into him on his search," I said, and watched as Stark's hackles lowered and he nodded. He wasgenuinelyprotective of Bryony. That was good. If I had the opportunity, I would share that with her. She deserved to have devoted guards. "It's better that she's not at the door to receive them. A woman of the queen's line is expected to be…occupied."

Stark relaxed again, shoulders lowering, and he nodded once more. He was extremely handsome, with beautifully full lips and green eyes that were especially striking against his brown skin.Cosmo should sculpt him, I thought, my own lips twitching with my smile.

"I should be in armor," he said, more to himself.

I'd noticed him wearing less of it as the days went by with our stay in the castle, usually when he wasn't on duty directly in front of us. "You should behave as if you are performing exactly as Her Royal Highness has ordered you to," I offered. "Princesses are expected to be eccentric, and Bryony will never know to correct any false impression you give."

His head turned to me, and his eyes flicked over me head to toe before he looked stiffly ahead again.

"Perhaps you wear less armor because her Hunger demands a better view of you," I said, mostly to watch his reaction.

His steps stumbled and his cheeks darkened, a scowl taking over his features as he straightened again. "I think her ambivalence proves otherwise," he muttered.

I hummed in sympathy, and we reached the front entrance at the same time that a sharp black carriage pulled up to the front steps. I glanced down at the marble and blinked. The steps were whole again. Not just whole, but shining white and laced with shimmering gold veins. An oddly amused jealousy struck me as I realizedhowand when those steps might've been mended. I wanted to make magic with Bryonytoo, damnit, although I didn't really care what the repairs were.

"Who is that?" Cresswell asked with a huff of irritation.

I dragged my eyes up from the steps and found the subject of his question, two women arriving on horseback behind the carriage. "Rebecca Sanders and—oh!—Lady Prudence Whitehall."

Lady Prudence was the only daughter and last in line of a once prominent and now obsolete noble family. Her grandfather had lost most of the family money in overseas investments, and then her father the remainder during card games with other nobility. Lady Prudence had some connections, mostly childhood friends like my mother who offered up their homes for her to visit at length, but I hadn't heard any news of her in years.

She was thinner than I remembered, but still a dignified presence even in humble clothing. Her hair was fully gray now, and she had a wince in her expression that I suspected had more to do with the horseback riding than her mood—she'd always been warm but firm with me as a child.

I turned to the guard stationed at the door. "Go to the kitchens and have them prepare some good, strong tea and scones. A tray of meat and olives if there are some to spare."

The guard, an older man with a gray-speckled brown beard, only blinked back at me. "I'm not a servant."

"Go, Walsh," Stark ordered for me. "Tell them to deliver it to the grand hall."

I caught the flash of anger and the clench of the guard's jaw, and then he turned on the heel of his boot and stomped away.

"The palace is understaffed," I murmured, and Cresswell grunted in agreement.

"That's hardly her fault," Cresswell whispered back. "Do you know the men?"

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