Page 82 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

“Shall I fetch your supper, Master?” I ask.

He looks up from his book. Swiftly, his eyes drop from my face to the hands I didn’t know I was wringing, before moving upward again. “Is something the matter?”

I shove my hands behind my back. “Not at all! I simply wanted to know if you were hungry, or if you’d rather I waited. . .?”

He glances around the room, as though in search of what is causing my anxiety. His face clears suddenly. “They did not leave a cot in here for you, did they?”

“I amverycomfortable sleeping on the floor,” I lie quickly.

He frowns, then waves his hand. “Sleep in the bed. I did not plan to rest tonight.”

“Me? Sleep in the bed? But Master, I’m your servant! I dare not—”

“You dare not do what I say?” Rahk replies, that subtle smirk of his returning.

I bow quickly. “I will do whatever you say, Master.”

“Then I order you to sleep in the bed and to get good rest. I won’t have you being useless tomorrow because you weren’t able to sleep.”

“But won’t you be useless tomorrow, my lord?” I say, and then realizing how it sounds, quickly add: “If you don’t sleep.”

“Hopefully not entirely useless,” Rahk replies dryly, shutting his book with a snap and leaning forward. “Why don’t you go fetch supper instead of arguing with me?”

“Because you didn’t tell me whether you wanted it or not,” I answer. “I will gladly go get it now.”

His warm chuckle echoes in my ears as I scamper out the door in search of his meal.

The kitchen is livelier than expected, with inn staff preparing exquisite trays of food with gleaming silverware and embroidered napkins. I let out a grunt when I pick it up. That is oneheavytray. I pray to all the saints as I heft it up that I will not drop it on the way back to the room.

Just outside the kitchen are three servant boys, sitting on an empty staircase. I wouldn’t think anything of them, except they stare at me as I walk past them. One of them is a freckled redhead, while the other two could be brothers with how similar they look. The three of them wear uniforms similar to mine, except their suspenders hang loose to their knees and the redhead has his shirt tails untucked.

They have a mischievous, no-good twinkle in their eyes as I pass them. They seem to all be around thirteen years of age and despite their youth, are taller than me. I keep my eyes fixed ahead and find the staircase to Rahk’s room. Surely these boys cannot tell that I am a woman, right? Young boys are not supposed to be perceptive, yet they stare at me like I am their prey.

I make it safely to Rahk’s room and serve him his meal. He regards the tray, a brief frown flickering over his features. “Where is your food?”

They didn’t have trays for servant suppers, and I highly doubted I was supposed to take one of the fancy ones for myself.

I open my mouth to respond, but before the words leave, he takes one of the side dishes of two pillowy-soft rolls and sets one aside. Then he fills the plate from his own, giving me the chicken leg quarter, one of the rolls, a generous serving of steaming, spiced yams, and the entire plate of cherry tart.

“My lord!” I cry when he sets the plate before me. “This is more than half of your meal!”

Rahk only lifts one brow. “Sit and eat.”

If I protest, he will ask me why I do not obey him. Restraining my frustrated whimper that he is treating me far better than he ought, I plop into the chair across from him and begin eating. The food is delicious, and I didn’t even realize how hungry I’d grown. My consternation sweeps away as though with a wind. I devour the meal with zeal.

“Excellent job,” Rahk says with a smirk when I clean my plate. “You have pleased your master greatly.”

I glare at him—a mistake—but I earn a chuckle, not a reprimand. I get up to take the empty dishes back to the kitchen. The air is colder now with how dark it has grown, and I shiver in my uncomfortable shirt and breeches. Will the prince sense that anything is amiss if I use the bathing chamber to change? And why does he keep being so sacrificiallykindto me in a way that feels out of place and disconcerting? In some ways, his kindness is more confusing than his capriciousness. What sort of a fae prince offers his food and his bed to his servant without expecting anything else in return?

And aNothrilprince, for that matter?

“Hey! Psst!”

I startle out of my thoughts as I leave the kitchen empty-handed. It’s the three boys from earlier. They aren’t on the staircase anymore, but hang around the corner of the kitchen, away from the servants’ entrance.

“Come on!” one of the brunette boys calls, waving his hand for me to follow them.

“I have to return to my master,” I say, immediately on-guard.

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