Page 43 of Dueling the Suitors

“Oh, you deserve more than a hairbrush thrown at you for that dirty mouth of yours! You must count yourself lucky that I have nothing less precious and throwable around here.”

He smirked again, slowly this time. “Did I touch a nerve?”

“You know what? I’m tired!” She stomped towards the bed, pushing him out of the way and climbing atop it. “I want to sleep, and I would really appreciate it if you would let me. We have a long journey to your family’s house tomorrow.”

She grabbed the blanket and covered herself with it before glancing at Silas. He stood unmoved, looking around the room again as though a couch would pop into existence.

“What are you doing?”

“Wondering where I should sleep since the only chair in the room”—he gestured to the chair with their clothes in front of the dresser—“is hardly fit for one to sleep on.”

Astoria sighed. She wouldn’t ask him to sleep on the floor even with all the blankets they could find in the cupboard. He might be a travelling street performer who had spent countless nights on the streets, but she couldn’t let him sleep on the floor. Not while she slept on a bed.

She might be an arrogant princess, but she had always despised the way nobles treated commoners like the mud on their boots. If she made her husband sleep on the floor, she would be no better than them.

Besides, the bed was large enough to fit four of her. They simply had to take each side and stay out of each other’s proximity.

“We can share the bed,” she said wearily. “It’s large enough for us. Just don’t even think of crossing the line.” She narrowed her eyes to make herself clear.

Silas’ eyebrows rose. “Here I thought you were going to ask me to sleep on the floor.” He walked to the other side of the bed, not taking his eyes off her. “You’re not entirely heartless, I must admit.”

“Well, I did consider dumping you on the floor. The vote was rather close, but you’re right. I’m not entirely heartless.” Her lips twitched at the corner.

Silas returned it and climbed under the covers. Astoria flicked her wrist and the candlelight went out. They both lay down.

A heavy silence hung in the air. Astoria was wide awake. She was well aware he was too.

After a long moment, Silas’ voice broke the tranquility. “You would make a great queen, you know?”

A light snort escaped her. “What made you say that?”

“You could’ve told me to sleep on the floor, but you didn’t. Most princesses wouldn’t share their bed with a commoner even if he’s their husband—especially a loathsome, arranged one.”

That elicited a chuckle from her. “I am not most princesses,” she said, then added as an afterthought, “And in that case, most men wouldn’t be as decent as you are tonight.”

“I am not most men.”

She smiled in spite of herself.

“And I stand by what I said. You would make a great queen, Astra.”

Astoria rolled her eyes at his nickname. “Then too bad you don’t have a kingdom where I can be one.”

He chuckled at her sarcasm. “Such a shame. You would’ve made history.”

“Stop making me regret marrying you. I already do so at such great lengths.”

“Let me make you rephrase that when I take you to my homeland tomorrow and make you my queen.”

She shook her head. “You are delusional.”

Silas laughed, the deep and soothing sound making her heart race. “Good night, Little Dragon. Dream of me.”

Astoria rolled her eyes so hard her temples hurt. “Bad night, Big Dragon. Dream of making me a queen.”

“I already did.”

10

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