Page 38 of Quest

Prince Darcel suddenly reached out and rested his hand over mine, stilling the movement. “There’s no need to be nervous. I trust you.”

Words that should have brought me warm reassurance instead only stirred the guilt ever closer to the surface, the conflicting emotions brought by my deceit deepening with every interaction the more I grew to care for him.

His touch sent a jolt of heat up my arm, extending its reach to curl around my heart. Afraid I would be tempted to do something as ridiculous as hold his hand, I instinctively yanked mine away. He frowned, but though he didn’t say anything, his frustration was evident in every line of his serious yet achingly handsome expression.

My heart prickled that my actions had inadvertently given him that look. I busied myself with my herbs, but concentration was impossible when his sharp look followed my every move, muddling my thoughts.

His heavy sigh yanked my attention back to him. “Are you alright? Are you in pain?” I hovered over him, frantically scanning every inch for injuries I might have missed.

He shook his head. “I am simply at a loss. No matter how much I try, I can’t seem to get you to like me.”

My heart jolted. Had he detected the feelings I’d done my best to keep hidden? “You want me tolikeyou?” My voice hitched on the word. My interest in him often felt like an overwhelming presence, becoming more and more impossible to conceal with every interaction. Should he detect it, my disguise as a boy would unravel.

He rolled his eyes. “Not likethat. Goodness, who do you take me for?”

“Of course.” My cheeks burned, making me extra grateful for the faint light cast by the shade. “Then…what did you mean?”

He pouted slightly, a newly discovered childish impulse that only made his character all the more fascinating. “No one has so adamantly disliked me before. Even in my relationships with particularly difficult advisors or noble officials, I’ve never felt I’d made so little progress in such a lengthy amount of time.”

My lips twitched, tempted to smile due to my pleasure that he cared so much for my good opinion. “Is my dislike harming your precious princely ego?”

“Of course not.” But his voice hitched on his hasty insistence, betraying his lie. At my continued skepticism his defensiveness crumbled, his shoulders curling inwards.

“You’re just making me question whether in the past I’ve given myself too much credit and in truth everyone has simply pretended to like me for the sake of my title, and not because there’s anything about me that’s worthy of their regard.” His voice sounded small, revealing a rare vulnerability of what I suspected was a deeply rooted fear of his.

“You believe I may be the first person not willing to play the game you fear the rest of the court is playing?”

He hesitated before slowly nodding. Remorse filled me for how my actions had been misconstrued, especially when I myself understood all too well how it felt to question my worth—though my measurements towards my strict standards of being fit to uphold my family’s legacy were different than the prince’s constant wondering if those who surrounded him behaved genuinely, the sentiment was the same, a similarity that drew my heart closer to his.

“I cannot provide the assurances you need about the court. Some very well might be pretending, their show of consideration and respect nothing more than a ploy to garner your royal favor.”

He flinched, as if my words had struck him.

“But,” I hastened to add. “I can at least reassure you that I possess no such motives. My interactions with you are genuine.” Though I meant the words truthfully, I couldn’t deny I put on my own charade, even if it was far different than the potential performance of the royal court in their efforts to garner favor.

Though unlike others who might be pretending, the reasoning behind my determined distance wasn’t dislike at all. Quite the opposite. I didn’t immediately speak as I methodically wound the bandage around his leg, unable to lift my gaze to meet his eyes. “Your Highness?—”

“Darcel,” he interrupted, his tone grumpy even midst his weakness.

I startled. “What?”

“You said my name when you were worried about me, only to revert to formality now. You are the only member of our entourage that still insists on using my title, and considering our current circumstances and your previous insistences that my royal position means nothing to you, I think familiarity is long overdue.”

My frantically pounding heart seemed to have seized my voice, making it impossible to respond. I couldn’t deny I yearned to address him casually without his title acting as yet another barrier between us, even as progressing to a first name basis seemed almost dangerous considering my secret feelings towards him.

In the end, my longings were too strong to resist. “Darcel,” I whispered, the name delightful on my lips.

The shadow of a smile lit his expression, warming my heart. “Ren.”

Despite the tenderness of such a monumental moment, sadness twinged my heart that while I’d earned the privilege of addressing him as a friend, the name he used for me wasn’t my own, but instead a constant reminder of my lie dividing us, making him feel further out of reach even with this progress in our relationship.

I forced myself to return my focus to the tending our conversation had interrupted. The next step was finding something to bind the wound. I started to reach for my own shirt but hesitated, afraid tearing off even a portion would expose too much of my feminine body, betraying my disguise. He sensed my reluctance, and even without understanding the reason, he weakly motioned towards his own. I used a strip to carefully wrap his leg, tying the makeshift bandage securely but not too tightly, my hands steady despite my raging turmoil.

As I worked, I found my thoughts drifting from the task at hand to the man who’d come to mean so much to me. It wasn't just about saving a companion but someone important to my heart, whose life had become intertwined with my own in ways I hadn't anticipated when I’d first donned my disguise.

His gaze was intense as he watched me. “Thank you, Ren.” I knew his gratitude extended beyond the nursing I had just rendered to the conversation that we’d shared.

The quiet of the forest felt more intimate than ever before. I avoided his eyes to hide the emotions swirling within me, fighting to keep my voice steady though my heart was anything but. “You’re welcome.”

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