Page 42 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

That . . . is a compliment. Very backhanded, but a compliment nonetheless. I don’t have a clue what to do with a compliment from a Nothril prince.

“Perhaps with enough practice, we can reacquaint you with the experience of losing,” I reply, too cheeky for my own good.

“You are bold for one with years beyond your skill.”

“Ouch.” I rub my arm. “I will endeavor to bridge the gap formed by not growing up in Faerieland.”

“Nothing would please me more,” he replies.

Chapter 13

Kat

PrinceRahkrarelyrequiresanything of me beyond my usual service, but the next morning, he summons me to his study almost immediately after breakfast. I pass one of the parlors on the way, and think of Edith when a bust of Botsov glares at me from inside it.

“I do not like how these books are arranged,” Rahk says when I enter his study, gesturing to the shelves lining his walls. “Rearrange them at once.”

I shift my weight between my feet as I regard the six shelves. What doesn’t he like about them? “Yes, my lord. Do you have a particular way you want them arranged?”

“By author.”

I draw in a deep breath. This is going to take forever, and I have more than enough work already. I’ll just have to beveryfast. With another, “Yes, my lord,” I set to work. I start at the shelf closest to me and carefully remove the books, piling them on the floor. The prince’s quill scratches against his parchment as he works—on what, I have not a single clue. Whenever that quill goes quiet, I try not to let myself wonder if he watches me. Itfeelslike he watches me. But I will not be spooked by him and his intensity.

I soon have sweat beading on my brow from carrying all the books in this small room and making myself move as quickly as possible.

“What are you doing?” the prince asks abruptly when I’m on the third shelf.

I look up. He sits at his desk, his knees and elbows wide, his black gaze moving between me and the piles of books I have lined up in a row. I open my mouth, close it, then frown. “I am reorganizing your shelves . . . my lord.”

“Yes, yes, but what are the piles?” He gestures at my neat rows.

I blink. “The books sorted by author. The authors whose names start with A are in this pile, B in this one, and so forth . . .? I’ll alphabetize within each group once I have all the books sorted.”

He gives a single, solemn nod. “Efficient.”

I take that as permission to get back to work. He doesn’t speak to me for the next hour as I work as quickly as I can. There are long stretches where his quill doesn’t scratch, and I have to tell myself repeatedly that it is ridiculous to consider that he does nothing for over a quarter of an hour save watch me work. He probably is reading. Or thinking important thoughts.

I slide the last book onto the shelf. Pride blossoms in my chest as I regard my work. I’d like to see anyone else try to do a better job more efficiently. I pull my face into a serious mask and turn around. “I am finished, Master.”

He leans back in his chair, a single lock of his silver hair falling over his forehead. He regards me first, then my handiwork. Standing, he walks around his desk, one hand planted on his hip as he studies the shelves. Is he checking to see if I correctly alphabetized everything?

“This is not satisfactory,” he says at last.

My neck cracks from how quickly I spin my head toward him. “My lord? How—how can it not be satisfactory? Everything is arranged exactly as you asked.”

“I believe the appropriate response would be,‘How may I make it satisfactory, my lord?’” the prince says.

I bite my burning tongue and suppress the mounting heat of anger in my chest.You’ve just got to work here until you turn twenty-one. Then you don’t have to deal with any of this.Still, it takes me a minute before I trust my tone when I say, “How may I make it satisfactory, my lord?”

“I’d be much more satisfied if the shelves were arranged by topic. I could find what I look for easier.”

He could have said that from the beginning. I am proud of the way I don’t let a single fiery word pass my lips. If he is toying with me, that is his prerogative. I am his servant, and I am indebted to him for giving me so many second chances.

I bow. “As you wish, Master.”

Then I face the shelves once more and begin dismantling all my careful work.

Sortingbytopicprovesto be much slower and more complicated. For one, I must decide the topics by which to sort the books. For another, some books could technically be placed under multiple topics. I take twice the time to arrange the shelves. When I finish, I want to flop on the floor and die. I tell Prince Rahk I am finished, and when his shrewd eyes narrow at the shelves, I can practically hear his low voice pronouncing,“I am not satisfied. Do it all again.”

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