Mielle hurried down the hallway to Trevn’s chambers. She glanced over her shoulder, knowing Zeroah was not far behind. She only wanted a minute alone with him.
Cadoc saw her coming. “Miss Mielle, good midday. Come to see the sâr?”
Mielle beamed. “Yes, sir.”
He knocked once, pushed open the door, and poked his head inside. “Miss Mielle, Your Highness. Shall I tell her to come back later?”
“No!” Trevn’s voice. Her heart leapt. “Send her in, please. Beal, you may go check on . . . um . . . something.”
Mielle bit back a smile.
“I shall inquire as to how quickly your clothing can be laundered, sir,” Beal said in his breathy voice.
“Excellent, thank you,” Trevn said.
The door opened wider. Beal stepped aside to let Mielle in, avoided her gaze as she entered, then slipped into the hall and closed the door behind him.
Well, good midday to you too, Beal.
Trevn stood gazing at her; his eyes seemed bigger somehow, glossier, deeper. His feet were bare, and sand was caked to the knees of his trousers. He’d already found the beach!
She curtsied, clasped her hands, fidgeted, and leaned against the door to try to keep still. Trevn kept staring. She hoped he would speak soon.
Blessedly he did. “Good midday, Mielle.”
“And you,” she said.
“I’ve been thinking about you much lately. I can hardly believe you are standing here.”
Oh . . . She suddenly felt very hot and . . . exposed. She wished she could sit or hide somehow, which was silly. Why would she want to hide?
Trevn walked to her, took her hands in his, which sent tingles up her arms and down into her belly. His fingers slid over the scab from the Renegade R she’d cut on her hand. He closed her fingers and lifted her hand, inspecting it. His eyes lit up and he smiled.
“Is it wrong that I want so badly to kiss you?” he whispered.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
He kissed her gently, and she breathed in his sandy, salty beach smell. She grabbed his face, pulling him closer, trying to put all her sentiments into her kiss, wanting him to know how he made her feel.
His hands slid around her waist. He was always so timid—no, careful, like he might scare her away. It was the opposite of how she expected him to be, but she liked it. It made her feel in control. Safe.
Trevn broke the kiss and buried his face in her hair. “Mielle, I’ve missed you.”
She loved when he said her name. She reached behind his neck and tangled her fingers in his coarse minibraids. “I missed you too.”
Trevn stumbled back a step, tripped on something. One of his boots. He sat down suddenly on a longchair, pulling Mielle awkwardly onto his lap. One of her feet was tangled in her skirt. She felt off-balance and held tight to his tunic.
A knock on the door made Mielle jump. Her sharp movement caused her to slip off Trevn’s knees. He held tight, trying to keep her from falling, but it was too late, and she pulled him with her. They hit the floor with a thud.
Trevn started to laugh.
“I’m sorry!” She tried to get up, but he was lying on her skirt and she fell back down.
Another knock.
Trevn twisted out from under Mielle. He stood and helped her to her feet, then went to the door and opened it a crack. “Yes?”
“Lady Zeroah to see you, sir,” Cadoc said.
Trevn glanced back to Mielle. He looked her over and his eyes widened. Well, he didn’t look any better! His hair frizzed out behind his round ears, and her red ochre lip powder was smudged all over his mouth.
The door swung in. Trevn tried to push it closed, but a dainty shoe blocked the opening.
“Let me in, Your Highness,” Lady Zeroah said. “I know Mielle is with you.”
Mielle. So unlike Zeroah! She’d wanted to talk to Trevn about how strangely her lady had been acting, the loss of her manners and propriety, but seeing him had sidetracked her. And now they’d run out of time.
Lady Zeroah shoved her way inside and closed the door with a swift kick. She glanced at Mielle, raised one slender eyebrow, then turned her penetrating gaze to Trevn. “Really, Your Highness. Not more than an hour has passed since your arrival in Brixmead. Does Everton have no women?”
Oh! How could she speak so rudely? Trevn choked a laugh, clearly shocked by Zeroah’s ribaldry. Surely he must see there was something very wrong with the lady.
“And you,” she said to Mielle. “Give everything so soon, and he’ll tire of you.”
Mielle’s cheeks burned. She folded her arms, wanting Zeroah to leave and never return.
“I beg your pardon, lady,” Trevn said. “Can I help you?”
“How soon do we leave for Everton?” Zeroah asked.
Trevn smoothed back his frizzy hair. “Um, that depends on King Jorger. You are his to command, not mine.”
Zeroah rolled her eyes. “I am no one’s to command. I want to go to Everton. Right away. And it is Godking Jorger. Don’t forget.”
Mielle cringed. This was wrong. All wrong! What had happened to her dear friend? Had Zeroah and the king caught some kind of mania?
“I will not go against Godking Jorger or your mother,” Trevn said. “If they say you may leave, we can set out first thing tomorrow.”
“Good. Be ready. I shall have my way.” Zeroah opened the door. “Come, Mielle.”
Mielle glanced at Trevn, and a moment of boldness seized her. “I will join you momentarily, lady. Allow me to say farewell.”
Zeroah sighed heavily. “If you must. Remember, though . . . Princess Nabelle, my mother, said that should anything happen to Wilek, Prince Trevn is contracted to marry me.” She left, closing the door behind her.
Mielle stared, dumbfounded, at Trevn. “Is that true?”
Trevn looked everywhere, it seemed, but at Mielle. “What is wrong with Lady Zeroah? I have never seen her behave so strangely.”
Mielle crossed to his side and whispered, “She’s been acting like this for several days. It’s like she woke up with a different personality.”
“Just like the, uh, Godking?”
“Exactly like that,” Mielle said. “I’m sorry she was so rude.”
He offered her a kind smile. “I could never tire of you, Mielle.”
His words melted her anger, but she could not return his smile. “You’re contracted to marry Zeroah?”
He sighed, shrugged. “Only if Wilek died. And he returned in perfect health, so there is nothing to fear.”
Mielle’s heart seemed to shatter. “You lied to me!”
He shook his head, eyes pleading. “Not a lie, exactly. I did not wish to upset you. Mielle, I am sorry. Let’s not fight. We will sail for Everton tomorrow, and Lady Zeroah will plan her wedding to my brother. All has worked out perfectly.” He wiped his thumb over her cheek and it came away dusted with red ochre. “I will see you at dinner?”
She frowned. “They will seat you beside Zeroah, won’t they?”
He grinned. “Probably, but I’ll be able to see you better that way.”
Such words! She kissed him softly and breathed him in, happy to have made peace and to have confided her fears about Zeroah. Trevn would help make everything all right again.