Page 39 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

“I’m attending a ball in three evenings.” His voice arrests my progress. I turn around and fold my hands, waiting for his orders. “Some of my new wardrobe will be delivered by then. You will work with Edvear to select what I shall wear. I need a human’s opinion on the matter, as it will be my first public appearance as ambassador in Harbright.”

I cringe inwardly. I sent my intention to attend this ball weeks ago—before Agatha sold Bartholomew. The queen will be offended by my absence.

Well, there is no use worrying about it. I’ll just have to deal with her displeasure when I return to court.

I bow. “I will do my best to pick out suitable clothes, Highness.”

His head whips up, his eyes going sharp like a cat’s. “Highness?”

My hand flies to my burning lips. “Master. I mean,Master.”

The look he gives me is shrewd and calculating. His low voice takes on an edge that makes my teeth tingle. “How did you know I was royalty? I haven’t told anyone here.”

A rock drops into my stomach. I scramble for any excuse. “Oh, I just assumed—with being an ambassador, that you were someone important. Aren’t ambassadors always royalty?” I try to thread my question with enough ignorance to cover my slip.

Stupid, stupid Kat. You’re going to get yourself killed.

“I’d say they’re usuallynotroyalty,” the prince replies.

“Oh. Forgive me.” My voice pitches high, and I desperately drag it back down to my lower registers to exude curiosity instead of supreme discomfort. “But . . . youareroyalty?”

He blinks once, slowly. “I am.”

I lean slightly forward, feigning surprise. “Are you a king?”

To my relief, the question seems to genuinely amuse him. “No, I am a prince. Most kings don’t do their own emissary work.”

Slip of the tongue successfully recovered from.

Now time to make my escape.

I bow. “I will remember what you have taught me and will say foolish things less often.”

“Don’t.” His mouth curves slightly. “Your foolishness is the only delight I have to look forward to.”

He eats his breakfast, signaling the conversation’s end. I leave the room as quickly as I can and head outside. I already have more wood to chop. When I walk into the sunshine, I let out the curse I was biting back. I think I’m offended—and not for Nat’s sake, but my own.

I stomp over to the stump and woodpile. I grab the axe.

The violence of the task calms the simmer of my blood.

It’s fine if he thinks you’re an idiot,I tell myself, puffing hair out of my face.Let him think less of you. It’s only then that you can take advantage of him.

Work keeps me busy until sundown. While my hands move, I occupy my mind with the problem of doing a raid without Bartholomew. I used to do them that way a long time ago, while I was still getting her used to Caphryl Wood. Until Bartholomew gets back, I’ll have to go on foot. It’ll slow us down, but I cannot use another horse—for so many reasons.

The prince summons me to his study after supper. I brace myself when I open the door. Almost immediately, a chest is dumped into my arms.

“Organize the contents of this chest in my room. It was misplaced during unloading,” the prince orders.

“Yes, Master.” I bow and turn to leave.

“I heard your sister stopped by to see you.”

I go still. Then I force a smile, shoving away my growing premonition. “Indeed. I was glad to see her.”

“Good. She is welcome here. You must introduce me when she comes next.”

He speaks the words so casually, but I don’t trust it for a minute. Is he suspicious after I called him by his royal title today? Does he wish to corroborate Mary’s story with mine?

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