For how long? To what purpose?
“Right,” Scarlett said briskly, pushing up to sit cross-legged on the floral print bedspread. “Hallie asked for an education before she settles down, too. She was granted leave to come here and study as long as she was under guard. If anything, her guards are less strict than Lorcan is with you. See my point?”
“Hallie’s kingdom isn’t under threat of imminent attack.”
“You’ve been saying that for almost two years. How can it be ‘imminent’ if it never happens?”
“The secondary meaning of ‘imminent’ is ‘overhanging,’ which I only know because, being a nonnative speaker, I had to look it up for class the other day.” Technically it’s an archaic definition, but so what? It’s still true.
“Fine. I’ll grant you the imminence. Do you ever wonder whether your dad ginned up the threat as an excuse to stay in power?”
“I—”No.I know it’s real. But I can’t tell her about the attack in Princes Street Gardens last year, or the visit to the safe house—much less Cata’s vehicular homicide along the way.
I saw how careworn he was in the coach.
“I have many disagreements with my father” —Goddess knows we barely get along— “but I know he wants what’s best for me and the country. There are times when what I want is at odds with what the country needs. I must reconcile myself to my duty.”
It sounds hollow even to my own ears.
“If being a princess means giving up everything you are, count me the fuck out.” Scarlett laughed. “Not that anyone would want me.”
“I don’t recall being offered a choice in the matter,” I said wryly. “Tell me what you need from me to write your paper.”
“An interview. Before you protest about negative press, I promise it’ll never go beyond my and my professor’s computer.”
I shook my head. She can’t guarantee that. “I’m afraid you’ll have to ask Raina.”
Though I feel bad refusing her, I know better than to risk Auralia’s reputation. One hint of dissatisfaction from me and the press would have a field day.
* * *
“I’m sorry about the Midwinter dance.”
Two weeks after our return to Scotland, I couldn’t take the tension any longer. In the library, as close as we get to neutral ground, I tried to smooth things over with Lorcan.
“It wasn’t your fault.” He was balancing his chair on two legs again, with one foot hooked around the leg of the table. It should look ridiculous. Instead, it makes his sweater cling to his abdomen, beneath which I can easily imagine the play of taut muscle.
Heat blooms in my midsection.
“It absolutely was. I singled you out and embarrassed you. I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry.”
He cocked his head at me. The chair drops with a thud. “I wanted to. I’m under orders not to get too familiar with the princess.”
“That title is a constant pain in my posterior.”
His mouth quirked up at one side. “Without it, we wouldn’t be here together.”
“I suppose not.”
“Your father made me swear an oath before the first year we were here. He wanted a guarantee that I would keep my hands to myself. At the time, you couldn’t stand me—”
My cheeks burned.
“—so it didn’t seem like it would ever become an issue. Now, it has.” Lorcan leaned forward and placed his fingertips beneath my chin, tipping my face up so he could whisper in my ear. “Watching those men court you was agony. I wanted to take you far away from there.” He released me and sat back. “I did. Here we are. Back in Scotland where I can have you all to myself, all the time.”
I bit my lower lip. I shouldn’t like this possessive streak of his, but I do. I adore the idea of belonging solely to him. And vice versa, which is the part I’ve struggled with. I don’t know what he wants, other than my full attention.
“Except, there’s Raina.”