I do my best to blush prettily in front of the guards as the king gazes down at me, but I do believe I’m going to faint right here in this hallway.
Stay with him? What does he mean?
Not taking his eyes off me, the king says to one of the guards, “Have Princess Serah’s evening meal sent to my chambers.”
The smile in the guard’s voice makes me wish I would faint. “With pleasure, Your Majesty,” he says, and bowing, he’s off.
I barely restrain myself from gasping aloud as the king splays his hand across the small of my back and guides me inside. As soon as the door clicks shut behind us, he drops the hand, leaving the skin there oddly chilled. I take a tremulous breath as he moves a step away.
“You might have warned me,” I say, striving for a dignified tone.
The king tilts his head at me, his expression indiscernible. “I assumed you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That you would stay here.”
I gape at him, too shocked to do any more blushing. “Why in all the stars’ names would you think that?”
“Where in your chambers did you intend to sleep, Princess?”
Oh. Somehow, I’d forgotten the mess I’d left in my rooms. The king watches the realization play out across my face and says, “Perhaps we could convince the peacocks to share some space with you.”
Sharp words rise to my tongue, but when I see his mouth twitch, I realize he’s made a joke, one meant to put me at ease. A small smile touches my own lips.
“Do you really think they’re still there?” I ask.
“No. They will have left by the balcony by now.”
“Unless they can’t make their way past the pianos.”
He lets out a chuckle, a sound deep and low enough to reverberate through my chest as well. “I’ll have it all removed tomorrow,” he says, “so you can be restored to your own rooms.”
“Thank you.”
“And I will be sure your things have been delivered.”
My smile falters, but I recover it before he notices. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
He inclines his head and moves deeper into the room, giving me the first chance to look around. The wall sconces have already been lit, and yet the space is a dark, brooding one filled with shadows cast by imposing furniture, the largest of which is a curtained, four-poster bed nearly buried in crimson and gold brocade pillows, all of them swathed in silk and velvet. One particularly dark corner of the room is stacked to the ceiling with what appears to be wooden chests.
In short, it’s exactly what one would expect the room of a dragon king to be. It even smells faintly of smoke, though it’s overlaid with the stronger scents of leather and sandalwood.
I look back to the king to see he’s already shrugged out of his armored coat and is working at the shirt beneath. He lifts a brow as he catches me looking.
“Did you want to bathe first?” he asks. “I assumed you wanted to wait for your meal.”
Bathe?
Oh, stars.
“I do,” I say. “Wish to wait for my meal, that is. I will wait here.” I fairly leap to a thick-legged table tucked in the corner. “Right here.”
His gaze lingers on me a moment longer before he turns toward a door I assume leads to the bathing chamber.
“Wait,” I say, a thought only just now occurring. “Are you not hungry?” He only requested a meal for me, not one for himself.
He glances back. “I ate seventeen cakes.”
“Seventeen?” I stare at him. I ate a single sorbet in that time!
“I am a dragon, Princess.”
“Of course.”
He disappears into the bathing chamber, and I begin trying to collect my thoughts.
Him staying in my chambers was scandalous enough, but to be brought to his so openly, to have his hand upon me in front of the guards…I press the back of my hands to my cheeks in a futile attempt to cool them.
It’s for the best, I tell myself. News that I’m staying here will spread quickly through the staff, and that will only help drive home this fated flames business. The king said it was the only way his subjects would accept a human ruler, so this is good. Preferable, even. I sit at the table, my eyes fixed on the bathing chamber door.
Did he take any clothing in with him? I didn’t see any. What if he intends to come out in a towel?
What if he intends to wear nothing at all?
A knock at the servant’s door sends me flying to my feet. A meal will be a welcome distraction. When I open the door, I’m surprised and delighted to see a face I recognize.
“Cora,” I say, “how lovely to see you again.”
Beaming, the girl curtsies. “Same to you, Your Highness.”
I stand aside so she can bring the tray in. “Did you have a good tour of the palace?” she asks, but no sooner have the words left her mouth than she winces. “My apologies, ma’am.”
“For what?”
“For asking,” she says, eyes on the dishes she’s now arranging on the table. “Hiln says I talk too much to the nobles. I don’t mean to. I was just raised friendly is all. I forget myself.”
“Hiln is entitled to her own opinion,” I say, settling into a chair, “but your friendliness is most welcome here.”
A ghost of a smile plays over her lips. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Satisfied, I glance over the spread before me as Cora fills a glass with a sweet-smelling wine.
“I don’t think I can eat half of this,” I say under my breath.
Cora chuckles. “That’s what I said, but Hiln insisted, and I dare not fight her.”
“She does seem formidable.”
A quiet laugh that could pass for a cough is the only response. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Your Majesty?”
“Might you check on my cat friend?”
Her eyes lift, and glancing behind me, she points toward the bed. To my shock, when I turn to look, he’s now lounging there amongst the pillows. “How does he do that?”
Cora shrugs. “He’s a cat. You’ll have to name him soon, you know.”
“Indeed.”
Taking up her tray, she says, “Is there anything else you’d like?”
“Might you loosen my gown before you go?” I glance toward the bathing chamber, which is still silent. “So that no one else has to come later?”
Though no one has said so, I suspect Hiln is my actual ladies’ maid, and that such a thing is her job. At home, I rarely wore gowns that required assistance, but the one I was put in this morning will be a challenge to remove without ripping.
Cora folds her lips together. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but Hiln had thoughts on that as well.” Darting her own glance toward the bathing chamber, she leans near and in a hushed tone, says, “She was of the idea males like to do that sort of work themselves.”
She and I both color up to our eyebrows.
“Oh,” I say.
“Mm,” she says.
And we both color some more, if that’s even possible.
“Well—” Cora clears her throat. “If you’re not needing anything else, I’ll be off.” Curtsying once more, she scuttles for the door.
“Thank you, Cora,” I call after her.
She bobs a curtsy once more. Hesitates.
“Might I say one thing more, Your Highness?”
“Of course.” I fortify myself for more of Hiln’s disconcerting advice, but the way Cora’s eyes brighten suggest the words to come are her own.
“The staff,” she says, “we’re real glad you’re here. We’ve waited a long time for a queen. His Majesty has waited a long time.” She hugs the tray to herself. “There’ll be some who are unkind because, well, they’re not used to humans, and they had their own ideas about who the king should marry, but I hope you’ll like Tirenth anyway. Truly, I do.”
Before I can respond—or even think how to—the bathing chamber door creaks opens and Cora bolts from the room.
Leaving me to face the king as he stalks out in a cloud of steam.