Page 51 of Crown of Slumber

As soon as I stepped out of the tub, it refilled itself with steaming water in preparation of Fenn’s needs. Water gushed in as if from an invisible spigot, steam floating above it. The sound of the water hitting metal made me think of Kellen Falls again, and I recalled how Fenn had confessed the place had felt like home to him.

The thought was both comforting and alarming. I was touched that this man felt so at peace in a place I loved. But at the same time, I was unsettled by the fact that we had something in common. He was the Midnight Prince. My enemy. A royal from a kingdom that rarely saw sunlight.

We were so different. Opposites, in fact. We couldn’t—shouldn’t—share a common interest. It made no sense.

I dressed myself in a simple gown of elegant burgundy silk, courtesy of the magical cottage that anticipated our needs. It also somehow knew I didn’t have a lady’s maid to help me dress, and the thin fabric was easy for me to button myself, despite my injuries.

The healer’s magic was indeed astounding. There was only the dullest ache in my shoulder, as if I had pulled a muscle while training with Father weeks ago. I rolled my shoulder, marveling at the ease with which I could do so. Then I found myself staring into the mirror on the wall by the wardrobe. My skin was still pale, my freckles standing out starkly on my cheeks like sickly spots. My strawberry blond hair was finally clean, and it fell in wavy tresses down to my ribs.

Swallowing hard, I turned and slid my sleeve off my shoulder. A pink, jagged scar cut through my shoulder blade. I couldn’t see it, but I knew the witch rune was there. I ran a finger over my scar, waiting to feel… something. I wasn’t sure what. Warmth? Ridges over my skin? Some kind of indicator that there was magic infused in my flesh.

But there was nothing. Whoever had put the rune mark on me had been skilled. The spot didn’t look or feel different from any other part of my body.

With a sigh, I slid my sleeve back into place, then twisted my hair into a messy braid that draped over my injured shoulder. The gown was sheer, and though the sleeves draped past my elbows, the neckline cut low, and the dress exposed a large portion of my back. If I shifted a certain way, the scar would be visible.

And so would the rune. At least, to anyone who was able to see it.

Like Fenn.

I frowned, glancing at his unconscious form still sprawled on the bed. His untidy chestnut hair had flopped over one eye, and one small point of his fae ear was visible from underneath.

The Midnight Prince was an enigma. He was a flirt and a rake, that was for certain. But he also dabbled in witch magic and befriended dragons and had enough compassion to distract me with anecdotes of his home when he noticed I was in distress.

I wasn’t sure what to make of him.

Fenn groaned and rolled over in his sleep, and I quickly turned away before he caught me staring. He grunted, then swore loudly, hissing in pain when he no doubt exacerbated his wound.

I smirked and faced him once more. “Good morning, dearest.”

He blinked sleepily at me, his green eyes clouded and incoherent. “Morning, little firebird.” His voice was low and throaty and made my stomach do dangerous things. I clasped my hands behind my back, reminding myself that however handsome he was or however delicious his husky voice sounded, he was still… well, Fenn. Nothing but trouble.

Fenn squinted at me, looking me over slowly and deliberately. “You are dressed.”

“I am.”

He groaned again and sat up, then winced. “And I am not.”

“Excellent observations. You are quite astute.”

Half his mouth quirked in a devilish grin. “And you are quite lovely. Especially in that… stunning gown.” He looked me over again, and I was painfully aware of how much of my chest was exposed. I resisted the urge to cross my arms over myself once more.

He seemed to realize he was staring, and he dropped his gaze and cleared his throat. “I mean to say… you look the part of a princess and a devoted fiancée.”

“Thank you.”

“I should probably dress as well.” He lifted an arm and sniffed, then recoiled. “Gods, that’s foul. I apologize for subjecting you to my filth all night.”

I chuckled and waved a hand. “We were both filthy, Fenn. I’ve already washed.”

“Well, I must… I should…” He sighed, then rubbed his eyes.

I found myself grinning. “Why, Prince Fenn, are youbashfulin the mornings?”

He rubbed a hand down his face. “It just takes a moment for my brain to wake up, that’s all.” He dropped his hand with an exasperated sigh. “As soon as I get out of this bed, I will completely undress so I can bathe. Either you can assist me, or you can make yourself scarce, but the choice is yours.”

Dammit. My cheeks heated, and I dropped my gaze, unable to find my voice. NowIwas the bashful one.

I inhaled deeply, trying to clear my head instead of focusing on the image of Fenn naked.

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