Page 56 of Thus with a Kiss I Die
I put my hand over his and pressed his fingers. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”
He cracked a grin. “And, of course, he’s a better catch.”
I slapped his hand hard. “You were doing so well!”
He cackled like the fiend he was, and I realized he had deliberately stuck a knife in my conceit. I couldn’t help it, but I laughed, too, and shoved at his shoulder with mine.
Behind us, Cal cleared his throat.
CHAPTER30
Iwhirled and ran to my betrothed. “Nonna Ursula? Is she . . . awake?” As if by strength of will, I would bring her back.
He looked down at me oddly, as if that wasn’t the response he’d expected. “She’s unconscious. Unchanged from the morning, Friar Laurence tells me.”
I sagged in relief that she still lived, and frustration that there’d been no improvement. “Inside her head, wherever she is, she must want to shout at us to return her to life.”
“Friar Laurence told me she moves not, nor does she show signs of sleep. She’s still as death, but he says . . . he says that’s what she needs now to heal the damage to her mind.” His voice, usually so deep, still and enduring, developed a rasp of pain.
“I know. I know. I’m impatient, and the results of this violence cannot be borne.”
Lysander, who had been standing silent and still at the railing, appeared beside us. “Prince Escalus, may I express my horror at the attack on Princess Ursula, and the distress of the Marcketti family at her suffering?” He bowed, his hand over his heart.
Cal gazed at Lysander, then at me, then at Lysander, then at me, and I realized what he’d seen when he reached the top of the stairs and stepped onto the floor of the tower. We’d been together, alone, talking easily, like friends . . . or lovers. And I’d held Lysander’s hand.
I started to explain.
But why? Anything I said would sound defensive. Anyway, since when had Cal become the Rosie Montague vice squad? Sooner or later, he had to learn to trust me, and it had better be sooner.
Before I could cross my arms and tap my toe, Cal replied to Lysander. “Your horror and the distress of your family help ease my saddened heart, as well as the hearts of my sister, Princess Isabella, and my betrothed, Lady Rosaline.”
That response soundly put Lysander in his place—and me in mine. I was now part of the ruling family, and Lysander should not forget it. Nor should I.
Lysander bowed again, and backed away, returning to his work on the lights.
“Cal, that was unnecessary. We have enough crises to handle without adding one filled with imaginary emotions.”
“Your emotions for Lysander of the Marcketti are imaginary?” Cal asked in a neutral tone.
Lysander could hear him, and both could hear me; and what I had to say, they had both better heed. “My feelings are my own, and not for display or discussion, and in this time of anguish for Princess Ursula’s suffering, I indulge in no flagrant madness of passion foranyone.” NowIgazed from Cal to Lysander, Lysander to Cal, and any passion expressed in my eyes could only be called icy.
Before they could react with the proper groveling and apologies (I know—obviously, my weariness and anxiety had unhinged me, for they were men and incapable of either), Elder, who’d been surprisingly absent, appeared with a pop and a hiss of irritation. “My mother’s been attacked? Who would dare?”
I wanted to snarl at him, demand he explain himself. Where had he been at the time of the attack? Why couldn’t he do one little thing right? What did he have to say for himself? Instead I spared him a glare, then said, “What use is a ghost when he’s not around to witness the crime?”
“Indeed,” Cal said, “when I learned of the attack on my grandmother, I thought of your ghost.”
“He’s notmyghost.” I didn’t want to own Elder, and I most definitely didn’t want to be like him. I enjoyed my earthly state very well—indeed, even with all the murders and misunderstandings—and I would do my best to remain among the living.
Probably that explained Elder’s constant state of crabbiness. He’d enjoyed his earthly state, too, and left it too soon.
“What did he witness?” Cal asked.
I gestured to Elder to explain himself.
Elder spoke directly to his son. “When Lady Rosaline is not within the palace, I’m not . . . anywhere. Somehow her presence brings me to a semblance of life.”
“You jest!” I said.
