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“You know, I was tempted to surprise you last night. But I suppose that wouldn’t be seemly. Not for a future queen. And not until our wedding night.”
Ugh. The man disgusted me. But, yikes. I’d never been more glad to be a unicorn. Our natural scent was a faint, flowery aroma that didn’t absorb well. So, no garlic smells to worry about, no body odor…no giveaway scent of lion or sex either. Whew.
“Future queen?” I called him out on that. “That would be the king’s bride, whomever he chooses.”
“Exactly.” Prince John kept his eyes level on me, making his plans clear.
I played dumb, the way he preferred his women. “But until the king returns…”
“From prison? From the Crusades?” He snorted, reached for a sweet roll, and started buttering it with crude swipes of a huge knife. “So many dangers he faces. So many enemies.”
Starting with you, I wanted to hiss.
“Anything can happen,” the prince went on. “We must be prepared to serve in his place.”
You mean, serve yourself, I burned to say.
But antagonizing him wouldn’t help, so I kept my mouth shut.
The prince shoved half the roll in his mouth and kept talking, revealing the gooey mess with every slurred syllable.
“Yes, the most unexpected things can happen. The way I received your message to meet here.”
“How very interesting. I sent no such message. As a prince, you must be on guard against traitors at all times,” I scolded.
There. Two could play at that game of speaking between the lines.
“Oh, believe me, I am.” He stuck the remainder of his roll into his mouth, showing a hint of his wolf fangs, and started buttering another.
I’d never seen him in wolf form, but I knew he was a shifter. The man reeked of it.
Most shifters had a telltale scent — not unicorns, but we were exceptions in so many ways — a subtle one that reflected how they spent time in animal form. That meant most shifters smelled of fresh air, the forest, or open glens.
The prince smelled of schemes and intrigue. An unmistakably foul, musty scent.
“Which reminds me…”
He tortured me with an ominous pause. What would he threaten me with next?
“…the taxes I sent my men to collect — regretfully, of course. We must set an example for the people, you know.”
Ha. I had him there. “I sent you enough treasure to cover those taxes, as instructed. It’s not my fault it was stolen.”
Actually, it was, but if he could lie, so could I.
“By Robin Hood and his bandits,” he muttered.
Her bandits, I itched to correct him.
“I can only hope your brother, the king, returns soon to restore order to the land,” I said primly.
“One can only hope,” he said with no sincerity whatsoever. “I worry about him, you know.”
Oh, I bet he did.
“And I worry about you, dearest betrothed,” he went on.
I folded my arms. “We are not betrothed. You do not have my father’s permission.”
