Page 169 of Royal Rebel

She peeked over her shoulder at him. “Where else is Wilf going to fit?”

Cardon cast his eyes around the room. “In front of the door.”

That would take up every bit of floor space they had. She folded her arms over her chest. “Where exactly will you sleep, then?”

He nodded to the corner. “I’ll fit there.”

“Standing up?”

He snorted. “Stop fussing. We’ll all fit.”

“I’m not fussing, I’m being practical.”

“You’re hungry,” he argued. “That makes you irritable, and the first stage of your irritability is fussing. So, let’s hurry and get you some dinner.”

She stared. “I do not get irritable when I’m hungry.”

“You most assuredly do.” Cardon removed his own cloak and dropped it over hers. She tried not to get distracted by the wide expanse of his chest, covered by a dark blue shirt. Even with the cloaks protecting them, their clothes were damp, and his molded tightly to his body.

“We should change into dry clothes,” Cardon said.

Her eyes darted to his, her heart skipping a beat. “What?”

He gestured to her pack. “Find something to change into. I’ll wait in the hall.”

Ah. Of course. She mentally shook herself, though her cheeks heated.

Cardon double-checked his belted knives, then stepped out of the room. When the door clicked behind him, Serene reached for her pack.

Changing didn’t take long. She hadn’t brought many clothes, so there weren’t a lot of options to choose from. She smoothed the simple blue skirt down, then called for him to return.

As he did, she brushed strands of wet curling hair away from her face. The hood of her cloak hadn’t been deep enough to protect her from the driving rain. She caught Cardon watching her, but the moment he realized she’d noticed, he glanced away.

She cleared her throat. “Would you like me to step out so you can change?”

“No, I’ll wait for Wilf.”

Her lips twitched. “You don’t trust me on my own?”

“Not at all.” He leaned back against the door and folded his arms over his chest. “So. Zaire Buhari stayed here with his family?”

“Yes.”

He glanced at the peeling paint around the window sill, the faded rug, the worn wood. “A king chose this place to stay the night?”

“Yes,” she repeated. “It’s charming.”

He lifted one brow. It was a gesture she was known to use—something she’d learned from him. “He stayed here with all seven of his children?”

“Well, I doubt they all stayed in this very room,” she quipped. Since she couldn’t explain her reasons for insisting they stay at the Panther’s Den, she changed the subject. “I’m the smallest. If anyone is sleeping in the corner, it only makes sense for it to be me.”

“There is no world in which that makes sense,” Cardon disagreed.

A rap on the door, then Wilf pushed in. He paused, taking in the small room. “Fates,” he muttered. “Maybe I’ll sleep in the hall.”

Something curled low in Serene’s gut. Maybe anticipation. What would it be like, to sleep in the same room as Cardon? Just the two of them, breathing together in the dark?

Her cheeks grew warmer.

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