Page 87 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

“Kat,” I whisper, dropping my tone. “Are you in danger? Why this disguise?”

She swallows hard. “Yes.”

My stomach pitches. My brow hardens. I tighten my grip on her, pulling her closer to my chest. “Tell me how I can protect you.”

“Let me remain as your servant—and don’t kill me.”

I roll my eyes to the ceiling. “We’ve already established I’m not going to kill you. But yes, of course you can remain with me. As long as you need.”

My very bones demand the answer to another question:who.Who has frightened her so much that she resorts to these measures?

“Are you hiding from someone?” I ask. A foreign impulse to cradle her close to my heart, to physically surround her so she cannot be hurt, almost obliterates my defenses.

She looks away from me, toward the window that views the night-darkened city. Her profile is a mix of sharp and soft. She nods once.

I press harder. “Who are you hiding from?”

She doesn’t answer. She’s turned into a very solemn drunk.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But I want to help you.”

Her eyes flutter closed, and her weight shifts on my lap. “I’m so tired.”

This conversation is over, then. I temper my disappointment at not learning more with the celebration that I’ve learned as much as I have.

Kat.Her name is Kat.

She slides to the floor. I watch each of her movements. She doesn’t move like anyone else I’ve seen before: nimble, with quick but slightly unsteady feet—exacerbated by the alcohol. It is an unusual combination that I do not know what to make of, yet one I find fascinating.

Suddenly, she whirls, nearly toppling over. I sit up and instinctively reach to stop her fall, but she catches herself. The next instant, she catches my face in both her hands.

I go still.

She stares at me, intently, her lips parted. I do not breathe. My command to go to sleep dies in my throat. Her fingers are warm on my rough cheeks. She pulls me slightly toward herself, and brings her mouth to—

“Kat,” I croak just before she kisses my chin. It is featherlight and soft and yet no less shocking than the first. My voice comes out in a rasp. “Please go to sleep. You are drunk and you don’t want this.”

“I just want to say thank you,” she whispers. “You are good. I didn’t think so at first, but I see it now.”

Her words are even more shocking than her kiss. I don’t want to think about them, what they mean to me, what they make me feel. No—I must get this Great Kings cursed woman to sleep before she makes fools out of both of us.

“To bed,” I order, gently but firmly pushing her away from me. “Now.”

To my relief, she obeys. I stay where I am as she slides to the bed and flops beneath the covers, fully clothed. She’s asleep in seconds, her chest rising in even breaths.

A huge exhalation gusts out of me, and I sag in my chair. I cover my face with one hand. Then I release a groan. Somehow, I must get back to work after . . .that.

Stubbornly, I pull the boring book I was reading into my lap and stare unseeing at the page.

“Kat,” I whisper, tasting the name on my tongue. My eyes flit up from my book every few minutes to linger on her. I find the longer I look at her, the more my mouth tilts down.

I’m going to find out who she’s hiding from, and it’ll take a great deal of self-control to not let the Nothril prince in me rip him limb from limb.

Itisaftermidnightwhen I rise from the table. I snuffed out the candles hours ago, and Kat is lost to a deep sleep. She does not stir as I slip across the room and take the servants’ door out.

I stay close to the shadows as I traverse the streets, heading toward a very specific destination. It does not take me long to find the city’s stop for the coach. Myolleadose has worn off, leaving my senses sharp as I cover the area, scenting for anything familiar. The freshest scents are not familiar at all. I investigate past those, hunting for the broken trails, the ones that have been almost completely buried.

And there, I find one tiny sliver remaining. One that immediately registers in my mind.

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