Page 51 of Of Curses and Courtship

“I suppose he is…”

“You do have feelings for him, don’t you?” Her expression softens. “You poor thing.”

“Exactly. I’m a poor, pathetic woman who allows the prince to occupy her mind, and it doesn’t matterwhatI feel for him. He’s betrothed. They seemed happy together.”

“Even if that’s true, you can still feel for him. There are no rules against that.”

I open my mouth, unsure if I mean to deny the accusation or confirm it. Helena is correct, but acknowledging my feelings does little good.

“Perhaps in another lifetime,” I murmur.

There is a gentle knocking at the door, not loud enough for me to startle, but enough for it to get my attention.

“Who could that be?” Helena whispers.

“I don’t… I don’t know…”

Rather than answering it myself, I allow Helena to do the honor. She opens it a crack and then the rest of the way. “Allow me to venture a guess, Your Highness… you’re here to see Miss Ophelia?”

“Who is it?” I hiss.

But I already know. Who else could she greet that way?

White strands of hair appear before I note the face they belong to. The prince is truly in our shabby bedchamber. The jacket he wore to the party is unbuttoned, enough that I see a sliver of his fair, warm skin and the whisps of snowy hair sprouting on his chest. His hair is a mess, falling from where it’s tied at the nape of his neck. He leans against the wall, perfectly in place even though he shouldn’t be.

I grip the pillow hard. “You must leave. Whether you are here for my companion or me, you do not belong.”

“I know this is a risk, but I wish to speak with you.” His fingers flex at his sides. “Imustspeak with you. It can be brief.”

“Shall I leave you two alone?” Helena asks, with an innocence I know is not genuine.

Emyr and I answer at the same time. “No!”

Helena holds her hands up in surrender and returns to bed. “Just an offer.”

Even with Helena here, being alone in this capacity is inappropriate. We’re no longer running into each other around the palace. Now, he’s seeking me out, and my heart cannot take it.

“What have you come to say, Your Highness?” My attempt at sounding strong fades into nothingness when he looks at me with such a soft expression.

Emyr shouldn’t look at me like that, especially not with Helena able to see every passing glance. If anyone finds out he’s visiting me like this, we’ll all be in trouble. The fate of this palace rests delicately on his betrothal.

But Emyr is only here as a friend. Surely that’s allowed, even if I am a maid, isn’t it?

I’ve never seen him look more ill at ease, not even in the small village tavern where we first spent time together, and not even in the shabby inn where we first touched hands. Nothing compares to the way he looks at me now, with a pleading expression I can’t place.

“I wanted to apologize properly,” he murmurs. “Silva was imbibing in too much wine, but it doesn’t matter. She shouldn’t speak to you that way—to anyone, truly.”

Not only did he stand up for me, but now he is seeking me out to apologize. He must stop this behavior—it will only cause me to fall harder. Deeper. “Why in the realm are you apologizing for her actions? You’re not her.”

“She’s my kin.”

“Regardless, I don’t require remorse from either of you. I’m fine, as you can see. I’m ready for slumber—and you are as well, I’m sure.”

“I am.” He glances at Helena. I nearly forget she is in the room until he turns his attention to her. “I apologize for intruding on your slumber as well.”

“That’s just fine by me.” Helena smiles deviously. “Always happy to have you visit, Your Highness. I only wish we had time to clean up.”

“Ah…” He sputters. “It’s fine as it is. There’s no need?—”