Page 107 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

My laugh spills out of me. His gaze snaps to me at once, surprised. Have I . . . have I never laughed in front of him before? He is looking at me like I’m a different person. At first, I fear his disapproval, but he pulls out the chair from the vanity he’s never sat in, and when he sits, his mouth curls upward.

“If you disapprove, then come fix the mess yourself,” he orders, gesturing to his hair. “This should be part of your job, anyway.”

“Fix the mess?” I repeat, not taking a single step toward the vanity. “You want me to tend to your hair?”

“I do.”

I retreat slightly. “I amnotskilled in hair.” It is a very honest truth. Mary has always done my hair.

He waves one hand impatiently, gesturing to his head. “Then practice. I’ve got an errand to run today and you’re coming with me, so you need to get started.”

My reply is a grumbling, “As you wish, my lord.”

I find a brush in the vanity and position myself behind Rahk. Is there a way to do this without touching him? He watches me in the mirror, his black eyes following the way I hesitate to bring the brush to his scalp.

“You could start by removing the debris,” he says.

My cheeks heat. That would, in fact, be the first step. I pluck the twig and its leaf out of his hair. Then, before I can doubt myself, I stick the bristles into his hair and pull. A muscle in Rahk’s face twitches.

“That was too rough, wasn’t it?”

He doesn’t reply, but I force myself to lay a hand against the back of his head and start brushing from the ends of his hair like Mary always said to. His hair is soft and silky, which is entirely unfair. Why is it that someone like Rahk, who probably cares little for beauty, must have all of it, while the rest of us who actually want it are left with nothing?

I work my way up closer to his scalp. When one lock is shiny and free of tangles, I move on to the next, until his whole head of hair is almost luminescent in its perfection.

Now, what to do with it? He usually wears it tied back in some fashion. He probably hates having it get in his face. I use my fingernails to pull back the hair above his ears and gather it at the back. He blinks fast every time I comb back more.

“Give me your hand,” I order. He does, and I take it to the gather of hair at the back of his head. “Hold this. I need to find a cord.”

He obeys. I shuffle through the drawers until I find a few thin leather cords. I scoop one up and bring it to his hair. I’m about to start tying when I suddenly can take it no longer, and the question bursts from my mouth: “Why are you staring at me like that?”

His black gaze, which has remained unmoved from my reflection in the mirror this entire time, flees mine for all of one second before it returns. “You are making a lot of different faces while you work. I am playing a game with myself to decipher their meanings.”

My eyes widen.

“For example, the face you made just now says you are afraid I will have noticed something incriminating in your previous expressions, which begs the question: What are you afraid I will discover on your features?”

“That I have no idea what I’m doing,” I growl as I tie off his hair and step back. “It’s a little crooked, but it should stay out of your face.”

He regards his hair in the mirror. “Excellent. Prepare to leave for our errand.”

Chapter 32

Kat

Edvearordersthecarriage,which comes round to the front of the mansion. I stand at attention, waiting for instructions as Rahk—wearing a dashing long coat—strides into the sunshine. His eyes find me immediately.

“Into the carriage with you,” he orders.

Clifford, who drives, shoots me a sidelong glance as I hurry to obey.

“Is your ankle troubling you much?” Rahk asks as he settles across from me. “You still favor your leg.”

I’ve been sneaking out to soak it in the freezing cold creek early each morning, which has helped with the pain management. But last night, I removed the stitches, so the pain is reinvigorated.

“Only a little,” I lie.

He doesn’t say anything else as we drive. He has his chin propped up on his fist, his elbow on his thigh as he stares out the window.

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