Chapter 11 #2
“Well,” said the queen, silencing their giggles with a single glare. After a pause, she turned her penetrating scrutiny to Nin. “I shan’t keep you from your betrothed any longer. Princess Marianne, you may withdraw.”
As the servant led the way into the gardens, Nin took slow, deep breaths to settle her nerves. She couldn’t let all her hard work go to waste due to her poor acting skills—Alain depended on her success.
“He is right this way, Your Highness,” he said, bowing and gesturing to a path leading to a tall marble statue of a late king.
Swallowing, Nin approached the tall figure standing with his back facing her. The man stood before the statue in quiet admiration, but at the sound of her approaching footsteps, he turned around.
Nin had memorized Prince Rodrigue’s portrait, but it did him no justice.
Dark hair framed his face in smooth waves, his dark eyes rich and expressive under his thick, bold brows.
His broad shoulders flexed beneath his midnight velvet coat, embellished with gold embroidery.
A red sash and a sapphire clasp decorated his shoulder, and his black polished boots reflected her astonished expression.
There was an easy confidence held in his charming smile, one that momentarily disarmed her.
“Your Highness,” he greeted, taking her gloved hand and placing a kiss on the back of it. “It has been too long since we last saw each other. I’ve missed you.”
He spoke Aurelion fluently, but his voice carried a warm Castavielan lilt.
Nin could understand why the princess would fall for him. There was nothing shallow or disingenuous about the way his eyes soaked her in—like she was the most precious person in his life.
Rodrigue gently squeezed her hand, grounding her to the moment. She blinked, forcing herself to speak, “I-I have missed you as well. You arrived earlier than I expected!”
“Yes,” he said, tilting her chin upward to meet his tender smile. Nin held back a swallow. “I was the first to ride ahead. I couldn’t wait any longer, not when it meant more time with you.”
Her thoughts raced, crowding her mind with rules of posture, tone, and restraint, but none came to her aid. The prince was flirting with her. A small, frantic voice inside her screamed in panic.
His hand slid away from her jaw, lingering a little longer than she was comfortable with. Rodrigue seemed entirely unconcerned whether there were curious eyes watching from afar.
“Would you care to walk with me, Your Highness?” he asked.
Nin accepted, wrapping her arm around his offered one.
Her heart raced as the warmth of Prince Rodrigue’s gloved hand rested around hers.
He gave her fingers an affectionate pat before guiding her around a statue and setting off on a path lined with beds of red tulips. With every step, her pulse quickened.
The garden was quiet and sunlit, filled with the scent of roses and other blooms. Its grounds stretched endlessly around them, and though a few servants followed as chaperones, the gravel path suddenly grew too private for her comfort.
Rodrigue strolled beside her, seemingly content in the silence, but it pressed in on her, compelling her to say something.
“You look well, Your Highness,” she said at last.
“Truly?” He tilted his head with a wink.
Blood rushed to her cheeks as she nodded meekly.
“You are as beautiful as I remember. No, even more,” he said, his voice dipping an octave. “Especially when you blush.”
Heat seared across her face.
They paused before a large, tiered fountain bubbling with sparkling water. Light caught against the sparkles embedded in the stone, and Nin wondered if the material had been enchanted to always appear ethereal.
Rodrigue stepped back from the fountain but caught her hand in his.
“You seem quieter than usual,” he said, taking a step closer. The aroma of fragrant, aged cedar filled her senses, making her pulse race.
Nin schooled her nervousness with a smile. “I’ve just recovered from an illness. My voice isn’t at its full strength at times,” she explained, softening her voice deliberately. “But I am pleased you came early to see me. It’s been too long.”
“Yes,” he murmured. “It has.” He moved closer still.
Rodrigue reached up and brushed a stray curl from her face.
Nin froze.
His eyes wandered to her mouth. The distance between them narrowed, breath by breath, until panic crowded out every rational thought.
He is going to kiss me.
And she had no idea how to stop it.
The sound of boots crunching over gravel interrupted them.
“Your Highness.”
Nin’s chest loosened in relief when Cedric halted beside her.
“My apologies,” he extended, inclining his head toward the prince, though Nin caught the subtle sharpness behind his spectacles. “But the physician has advised that the princess should not remain in the sun for longer than necessary.”
Prince Rodrigue’s eyes flashed to her, his smile dipping into a frown. “I’m sorry, my love. I had not realized.”
“It’s all right,” she said gently. “We will have plenty of time to catch up now that you’re here.”
“I won’t keep you,” Prince Rodrigue said. He grasped her hand and placed a kiss on the back of her knuckles. Nin smiled, hoping it was what Princess Marianne would do, but she worried she looked too stiff. Beside her, Cedric’s mouth compressed into a thin line.
With a final goodbye, Nin didn’t wait a moment longer. She accepted Cedric’s arm, her breath wavering into a relieved sigh as he guided her away.
“Thank you,” Nin murmured, once out of earshot. “I didn’t know what I was supposed to do there.”
Cedric remained focused, his sight set solely ahead, while his fingers twitched over her arm.
“You allowed yourself to become too comfortable with him.”
“Well,” she protested, “they’re meant to be in love, aren’t they? How else am I supposed to act?”
Cedric’s jaw tightened, his stride lengthening slightly. “Avoid kissing him. At all costs. Princess Marianne is betrothed, not married. Protocol dictates that you show decorum in such matters. Affection may be shown, but it must remain brief and socially appropriate.”
She huffed, her heels clicking louder to keep up with his pace. “That’s easier said than done. Wouldn’t it look more convincing if I did?”
“No.”
The word came out brusque with an air of finality.
A brisk breeze stirred the violets around them. Gravel crunched beneath their steps as they walked in sudden silence.
Nin studied him with a sidelong glance, noting his rigid shoulders and slanted brows. “You didn’t like what I said, did you?”
“What I like is irrelevant,” he said curtly. “My priority is keeping you safe.”
“Ah, I see.” She leaned in, her grin widening as she dropped her voice to a playful whisper. “You’re jealous.”
His fingers tightened subtly over her arm—not in warning, but surprise.
Cedric refused to look in her direction. “Do not mistake caution for jealousy,” he said, his voice clipped.
Nin bit back another smile, pleased by how she had ruffled his uptight feathers. “All right,” she said with a shrug. “If you say so.”