Page 57 of Of Curses and Courtship

His lip turns up at the corner. “Yes.”

“Curse it all. I can’t get any bloody privacy.”

“Of course, you can’t. You’re part of the royal family. When have you ever been afforded privacy?”

“Never. Gods damn never. If not my sick companion, it’s my wedding they’re prying their noses into?—”

“The wedding you sound so thrilled about. Why don’t you complain a bit louder? You may start a scandal bigger than that of a corrupt beast.”

For the first time in days, I laugh. It’s a sad sound, bitter even to my ear, but at least I have one friend who can turn my mood upside down—even if he does so in the strangest of ways.

“You think you’re so humorous,” I mutter, shaking my head.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re laughing, are you not?”

One more thing—perhaps just the one—can lift my mood on such a gloomy night. A new patron waltzes in. Two patrons, I suppose, but only one captures my attention. Her strawberry hair and soft lavender wings always catch my eye. Sprigs of lavender are woven into her hair on this night, which curls around her face in soft tendrils, and she’s no longer wearing the uniform I’ve grown used to seeing her in.

Instead, a gingham blue dress clings to her ample form, flaring down at the waist. The bodice pushes her breasts up until they’re spilling over.

I force myself to avert my gaze.

I hold back a longing sigh and prop my elbow on the bar, resting my cheek on my hand. “What are the odds?”

“Ah. The woman from the tavern. I would imagine the odds are quite low.” He squints. “What’s she doing here?”

“She’s more than that.”

He lifts a brow. “What else could she possibly be, Your Highness?”

Nothing.

I’ve said too much. It’s the drink causing me to say things I haven’t even dared to say in my head, much less to Tibalt. Then again, he’s the only one who can know how I feel for her—how I floated out of the room after touching her hands just once.

I shake my head. “Why, she’s my friend—and she works at the palace now.”

“I s’pose I’ve seen her around, though she usually looks less remarkable when she’s dressed the same as the other maids. And her friend…”

Tibalt doesn’t hide how his attention falls to the woman at her side, but I have other matters to concern myself with.

“I must speak with her,” I mutter.

Tibalt grunts. I know he’ll remain nearby, even without saying it.

I float across the room until I reach her. She removes her fichu, fanning herself in the warm bar, and I could faint as her aroma drifts to me.

Her scent always hits me hard. She’s made of sea salt and fresh flowers. I gaze down at her through heavy lids, and when she turns to face me, she stands closer than she’s supposed to.

Or perhaps I’m the one who’s too close, desperate for the proximity.

“You should announce yourself,” she says, with surprising calm. “No one likes being sneaked up on.”

“I did not mean to sneak.” I lean onto the bar. “It is only that—I was not expecting to see you, and what a pleasure your appearance is. A sight for sore eyes, really. May I offer you a drink?”

She lifts her glass. “I already have a drink, and it seems you’ve had plenty too.”

“Ah… I will take another, if you insist.”

“I’m not insisting upon anything.”