Page 33 of The Empress
“It’s not. I assure you.” A soft smile lifts the corner of his mouth. “You’re unconventional. It’s intriguing.”
I brace myself as another ridiculous blush spreads up my neck and across my cheeks.
“As well as maddening.”
I frown.
“However, a lady of Ashwood’s station would never be so brazen. And your speech—”
“What’s wrong with the way I talk?” I’m instantly defensive, although I already know, and Briggs even called out that I don’t sound like I’m from around here. “Never mind,” I grumble. “Go on.”
“As Lady Ashwood, you don’t speak only for yourself. You’re an extension of your husband and the Kingdom of Cups. Choose your words carefully, and listen more than you speak.”
I fold my hands in my lap. “I’m assuming you can say whatever you want, whenever you want, and however you want.”
“I’m a man.” Kane leans back against the padded wall. He takes up more space than I thought possible, his presence even more commanding in the carriage.
“You definitely are.” The words slip out. “But don’t worry. I’ve binged a lot of period dramas.” I correct my posture and hold up my hand, pinky out, as if I’m sipping tea. “My dear Lord Ashwood, I dounderstand how to conduct myself as a lady of the court.”
A smirk twitches across his lips. “Start with staying upright, Fawn. I’ll do the rest.”
I settle back against the bench, dropping my princess-like posture for the twenty-first century slump and twirl my thumbs one over the other.
You’re literally twiddling your thumbs, Hannah.
I flatten my palms against my velvet skirts. I haven’t ever gone this long without my phone.
What do people do with all this free time? And what am I supposed to do with my hands?
Kane shifts along the bench, and his long legs brush against mine, sending a pulse of unexpected warmth through me. I steal a glance at him, taking in the broad line of his shoulders and the depth of his dark eyes while he stares out the window. I can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind right now, what secrets lie beneath that stoic facade.
His attention falls to my hands, and it takes me a minute to realize that I’m tapping my fingers against my thighs like I’m keeping time with the clip-clop of horse hooves.
He draws in a breath and releases it before asking, “Do you not know how to hold your hands still?”
“I’m used to having a phone,” I say, tugging at the collar of my cloak. “I’ve had one since fifth grade.”
He rubs his stubbled jaw. “And what is this phone you seem so anxious without?”
“It makes calls, connects people, entertains them, but it’s more than that. My whole life is in my phone. Everyone’s, really. We’re all dependent on them.”
He looks at me for so long, I’m afraid there’s snot hanging from my nose.
“You do understand your life is here?” He gestures to the carriage, to the fields outside the broken window. “It’s happening now.”
“Yeah, of course.” My gaze drifts to the landscape, the rolling hills and distant forests, the vastness of the world I’ve fallen into. This isn’t just some weird parallel universe I can escape from. This is my life now.
The realization is slow, creeping in around the edges of my thoughts. My phone, my world back home, all the things I’ve clung to—they don’t matter here. They can’t save me from whatever comes next.
I fist my skirts in my hands. “I’m just used to doing something with my hands.”
He shifts closer, the warmth of his body radiating between us. “I’m sure I could think of something for you to do with your hands, Little Fawn.”
My chest tightens, and my toes curl inside my soft satin slippers. “Are you sure that’s befitting a lady of the court?”
“It seems you don’t know much about ladies of the court.” His voice is low and teasing, and I decide to play along.
“Will that be part of my expected duty in the palace? Using my hands?”
