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I nod.
“Now come, let us see what turnips we can spare.”
We are halfway to the root vegetables when a flurry of Your Highness sounds, and servants rush to bow.
Even with all my inner turmoil, my heart leaps in my chest as Atticus strolls in, Kazimir trailing him. Here I was, only moments ago thinking I would not see him again. Worrying, if I must admit.
His blue eyes quickly find me, and dimples appear with his easy smile.
Memories of last night—of his strong hands on me, his tongue along my skin—are still ripe, and capable of feeding fantasies I’ve never had for any male. But the reality of what he does when he’s not with me douses any flames that might erupt.
Corrin makes another one of those grumbles I can’t read, but I doubt it’s approval for this visit or the king’s intentions. “Your Highness, I did not think you would ever be able to find your way here.”
“Would you believe I used to sneak down here all the time as a child to steal sweets from that room?” He points to the one holding all the cakes.
“I do recall your mother the queen mentioning something about your impish ways. Though, that was many years ago before my time, given I am only a mortal and you are elven. What can we help His Highness with?”
I can’t help but think Corrin’s words are meant to be a reminder to me—of our stark differences.
Of our impossibilities.
Atticus will reign long after I’ve grown old and died. And he will have lost interest in my aging body before then.
His lips curl, as if he can read the intention behind her words and finds them amusing. “I must speak to the baker for a moment. In private.”
She claps her hands. “Everyone, fill your arms with a load of supplies and come with me.”
The five servants scuttle to comply, and in less than twenty seconds, everyone is gone, including Kazimir.
“I can clear a room like no one else.” Atticus rounds the table where I stand. “How are you, Gracen?”
My nerves spike. Is he angry with me for not attending him last night? Is that why he has sought me out down here? “I am well, Your Highness.”
His eyebrow arches. “Are we back to that?”
“Atticus,” I amend. Suddenly, I’m as anxious as I was that day we ran into each other in the library. Speaking of which … Tucked under his arm is a leather-bound book, and an excuse to steer the conversation. “Have you visited the library today?”
“Yes. In fact, I’ve been there for hours, since well before dawn, scouring.”
After he gave up on waiting for me? How long did he actually wait, though? He’s the king. I doubt long at all. “And did you find what you wanted?”
“No. But I did find this.” He slides the book out and sets it on the table.
“What is it?”
“Open it and see.” Atticus shifts to stand behind me, his arms bracketing either side of my hips as he rests his hands on the table. “Go on.”
I’m acutely aware of how close he is. With tentative fingers, I flip open the first page to see floral penmanship. “Samara’s Quest,” I read the title out loud.
“I stumbled upon a section in the library with fictional stories written by mortals.”
“Written by mortals?” I momentarily forget my nerves as I smooth my fingers over the cover. It’s simple in design.
“Yes. And it made me think of you and that book you learned to read on. It might not be as exciting as Hania’s adventure, but I thought you would like it.”
“You remembered.” I figured he wasn’t even listening.
His soft chuckle curls in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “Why would I not?”
I peer over my shoulder and up into his eyes. “Because you have more to focus on than my prattling.”
His smile is lazy, teasing. “I much prefer listening to your prattling than all the lords and ladies in Islor, actually.”
“Thank you, Atticus, for this gift.” It’ll be only the second book I’ve ever read. “I will take extra care and return it to the library as soon as I’m finished,” I promise.
“No need. And if you enjoy it, maybe you can teach your children to read with it. I’m sure they would like that.” His gaze drifts to my mouth. “Why didn’t you come to me last night?” There’s a vulnerability in his voice that I have never heard, and coupled with that look, it’s enough to make me confess to everything.
My throat bobs with my hard swallow. “Sabrina was upset. She’s having a difficult time adjusting to her new role, and I thought it would be best to remain and comfort her.”
“That’s very kind and selfless of you.” There’s a pause. “Is that the only reason?”
No. Though at this very moment, as I stare up into his eyes, and my pulse drums in my ears, I can’t find any reason at all for not returning last night. My mind is drawing a blank.
