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I walked to the door quickly and slipped into the hallway. Hesitation took hold as I closed the door.
If I left it unlocked and Dahlia came early, she would know I left my room. If I locked it, then I wouldn’t be able to get back in.
Was I planning to be gone that long?
In reality, I didn’t know. The queen was a wild card. I wavered, contemplating the choices as I faced my door.
“Are you quite ready, then?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Spinning to face the shadows, I barely made out Bishop’s silhouette, arms crossed, leaning against the wall as if waiting for a bus, not sneaking out for royal espionage in the dead of the night. Palm against my chest to calm my racing heart, I started toward him.
“What’s with you Nolcovian men, scaring me half to death?”
As I drew near, his smirk became more apparent than ever. Bishop pushed off the wall to fall in step with me. “I suppose we’re rather adept at leaving beautiful women breathless.”
My feet stalled. I gulped back any nerves and glanced over my shoulder at my door. My engine hadn’t had time to cool since I’d been with Fitz. The warmth of his lips still lingered on mine. It took no effort at all to recall the sensation of his touch, but with it all so recent, Bishop’s words cued up the same emotional response. After all, he looked a lot like Fitz, but lacked the royal obligations that kept us apart. Was it a mistake to go with Bishop?
“Let’s crack on, then,” Bishop prompted, while nodding to the shadows that dominated the hallway.
I banished my worries. This went deeper than attraction and crushes. If the queen was doing something to hurt the king, Fitz deserved to know, and as his friend it was my job to help.
We moved quickly and without sound through the deserted halls and into the empty galleries of the palace. Bishop’s sure pace left no time for second-guessing. We dropped down a staircase I’d never seen and for the first time, Bishop’s arm shot out to stop me as his feet stalled. At the base of the stairs, an archway separated us from another room.
Through the arch, I spotted a door, different than the others I’d seen. Heavy and wooden, but not ornate. Cold air tickled over my skin like the breath of a ghost warning me to go back. Deep voices rumbled from the other side of the arch. I couldn’t make out the words but felt positive they were the reason we’d stopped. Bishop reversed a step, closing the distance between us to almost nothing. “The guards are changing,” he whispered.
Fumbling a bit, he took my hand in his. “Stay close.” As the voices moved away, Bishop led me through the arch and out the door. Frosty air slapped my face, stealing my breath in an instant. Ice left my quick steps slippery. Bishop’s grip tightened on my hand as he shot me a concerned glance. One of us grew up where sunshine thrived, and the ice left me off-kilter and wobbling. With Bishop’s help, I found my footing and we resumed our pace.
We moved across the grounds quickly. I hadn’t seen this side of the palace. Not ornate or decorated, but rather nondescript storage buildings and gated areas. Bishop took the next corner too fast, and my balance tipped. I reeled, narrowly smothering a scream from the shock of tipping all the way forward, face headed for the ground. Strong arms caught my center and held me steady. As if I weighed nothing, he pulled me back to my feet in one sweeping motion and held me against his chest.
“Easy there. Can’t have you dashing your head on the ice, can we?”
Indignance rose in my chest. While I was grateful for his help, I also didn’t need to be pulled up against him like a sucker fish on an aquarium wall.
“I lost my balance.” I pushed back from him, setting my hands on my hips. “I didn’t need—“ My feet slipped right out from under me again, and Bishop’s arms swooped around me.
“I’m sorry,” he quirked an eyebrow as he hovered over me, “what was that about not needing me?”
“Well, I don’t,” I asserted like an idiot.
“Fine then.” Bishop’s grip released and my body fell faster than The Drop Zone in 2003. My stomach jumped up my throat as I sank. I flailed my arms out, gripping any part of him that I could. Fingers latched into his sweater just as his arms tightened around me again. His cocky stare burned into me. “Care to revise your statement, Lady Michaela?”
My chest rose and fell with my short, choppy breaths. I hated losing, but between the angle of my body, twenty degrees off the snow, and the dropping temperature, I wasn’t in any position to argue.
Literally.
“Fine. I need you,” I admitted.
“Oh,” Bishop practically crooned, “music to my ears.”
“Hush.” I tried to get my feet under me, but I looked like a cartoon character trying to pedal in the air, slipping and sliding without any traction under me.
“Allow me, milady.” Pressure increased on my lower back as Bishop brought me to my feet, this time keeping some space between us. “Perhaps a compromise?”
I frowned, sure that any compromise from him would be more than skewed to his favor.
“What do you have in mind?”
