Chapter 23
Twenty-three
Edwin
It was, once again, a late workday. Part of it was time—we just didn’t have enough time to get all the plans in place before winter hit.
Even though we were in spring now, I felt like fall was right around the corner.
The winters could be brutal here, especially right on the edge of the sea like this, so things shut down come late Tenth Month.
No helping that. It meant a shorter season to get work done, though, and Prince James apparently intended to cram as much as possible into a single workday rather than wait for next spring.
Considering how much he helped other people—citizens in desperate need of help—I couldn’t scold him for keeping me late at work more often than not.
It was nearly seven o’clock now, I’d just finished a hasty dinner from the palace kitchens, and I estimated that if I focused, I miiiiight be out of here by nine.
Maybe. I’d certainly try. I had a good book waiting for me at home and I had every intention of starting it tonight.
This plan died an immediate death upon reaching my desk.
I stared underneath, head so cocked to the side it almost felt like it would fall off my neck altogether, disbelief rampaging through my system.
The Third Prince was all cozied up under my desk with a pillow and throw blanket—where had he even found those?
—looking as nested as a squirrel with nuts tucked away.
What.
The.
Hell.
“Your Highness?”
He blinked up at me and smiled. “Hello.”
“Why are you under my desk?” I had to ask. You couldn’t blame me for asking.
“Because no one will look for me here,” he answered promptly.
Well…I mean…he wasn’t wrong. I’d never in a million years look for him here. “Okay, but what if someone does?”
“I’ll throw them off with a secret call.”
“What call?”
“Caw caw rooooar.”
I plonked into my chair and just looked at him. Seriously? “What kind of call was that?”
“Tiger lily.”
Uh-huh. Clearly, this one was in quite the mood. It seriously amazed me that he fit under there, though. Prince James was a tall man. He folded up better than I would have expected him to.
No matter how I thought about it, this didn’t look right. Something was very wrong. It might not be my place, but I’d better push for answers. “Did something happen?”
“I’m at the stage where my body has said Hey, we realize you didn’t sleep well last night, but now you’re extra tired, and because of that, you’re too tired to actually sleep.
Sorry about that, maybe just wait until you collapse from exhaustion, then maybe we’ll sleep?
Stay tuned. I hate bodies. So inconvenient. ”
His ramble had and hadn’t answered my question. I’d never heard him ramble before. “So you came here to…take a nap?”
“I hoped I could nap here.” Prince James’s lower lip pushed outward. “My bed doesn’t like me. No, my body doesn’t like my bed? I don’t know anymore.”
He’d definitely pushed the boundaries of exhaustion. He wasn’t even making sense.
A bit of my evil side perked up and I dared to ask a question he normally sidestepped. “Did you eat at all today?”
“Uhh…I had khavé.”
I’d take that as a no. His answer concerned me because it reinforced something Jo Ann had mentioned yesterday.
She said he’d stopped taking lunch breaks, barely snacked, and seemed to only really eat at the elaborate formal dinners.
It matched my own observations, which wasn’t a good thing.
I didn’t know why he’d suddenly started skipping meals, but I knew for a fact he’d eaten regularly when he first entered the palace.
The only times I knew for certain he ate were the rare times I ate with him, and he’d consume healthy amounts, so he wasn’t avoiding food completely.
Which led me to think one of two things was happening:
Either a) he couldn’t eat while stressed (and there had been much to stress about).
Or b) he dearly wanted company while eating, and hoped to eat with me, and was disappointed I’d said no.
Unless I was very, very much mistaken, it was b. I wasn’t a narcissist—I didn’t think I was the center of the universe—but the timing of this problem was too coincidental to ignore. Prince James had stopped eating lunch ever since I’d first turned him down for a lunch date.
Part of me wanted to say, surely not, surely that wasn’t the cause.
But…I just had this gut feeling… Actually, come to think of it, the only time I saw him eat with people was at official functions.
Which was hardly a comfortable meal or setting, with all eyes on you.
The only time he had fun company was for snacks.
Maybe that’s why I saw him eating snacks and not meals?
Would it help if he had friendly company for a meal?
Okay, I dared to ask. “Did you stop eating lunch because no one would eat with you?”
He looked up, his eyes liquid and sad. “I just want to eat with you.”
This beautiful lunatic was going to give me a second ulcer. I resisted the urge to grab him by the collar and shake him. He was too vulnerable right now, his guard dropped because of his exhaustion and obvious hunger, and I had a feeling he’d spiraled badly.
And no one in this damn palace was close enough to him to either recognize the danger or help him.
Except, apparently, me?
I couldn’t ignore this. I just couldn’t.
It wasn’t my job—or my place—and would likely open doors I shouldn’t be opening, but I couldn’t ignore him when he was in such a deplorable state.
All he wanted was a friend, in this foreign place he was still adjusting to.
The least I could do is be that support.
“If I call for supper to be delivered and eat with you, will you properly eat?”
His face lit up with a hopeful smile. “You’ll eat with me?”
That answered my question. “I will indeed.”
“Can I still take a nap under your desk afterward?”
I’d do far worse things if it got him to sleep. If he still didn’t sleep, I’d even read to him. “That’s fine.”
He made this happy little sound, like a predator cat all pleased. “Okay.”
“Don’t move.” I stood, went to the door, and called for a runner from their nearby station. I gave the order to bring me two heaping plates, hoping Prince James would eat all of it. Or at least most.
Order dispatched, I headed for the sideboard. Someone had restocked a full selection of brownies, cookies, and two orange bars. I put all of those on a plate, made two cups of tea, and then returned to my desk. If he was willing to eat, I’d ply him with anything at hand.
I handed the plate down to him, then the tea, and he accepted both, sitting up to eat properly. It meant he sat half out from underneath the desk—surely an awkward position. Still, he seemed intent on staying in there. For some reason.
I made a show of sipping tea and then biting into the orange bar to encourage him to keep eating. Which he did, still making happy munching noises.
Prince James had put a stack into my inbox, and I riffled through the binders there. Ah, excellent, he had done almost everything before reverting to his six-year-old self. In fact, all I had to do was put these on the right people’s desks tomorrow, as it was now in their court instead of ours.
“You did very well,” I complimented him. “That was not a short stack of work to get through.”
He paused in munching. “You make me very happy saying that.”
“It’s the truth. I thought I’d be here another two hours, but because you plowed through it, I think I’ll only need another hour. What—” I cut myself off when the door abruptly opened.
Ah, excellent, our supper had arrived. I helped arrange the tray on my desk, then shooed the runner away before he could get an eyeful of a prince under my desk.
Once he was gone, the door shut once more, I held out a hand demanding the cookies back, and exchanged his plate for one of actual food.
Prince James dove into the rather delicious noodle dish with its variety of seafood and cool cucumbers.
When the cold dishes were made, then we knew we were sliding into summer.
Prince James ate every bite. Pleased, I gathered up the supper dishes from him, returning the tray to the pickup spot on the buffet table. Now, how to get him situated under the desk to actually nap?
I returned, took a seat, and pulled a blanket out of a lower drawer. That should aid him into sleep, hopefully.
The office door abruptly opened, startling me, and I looked up sharply.
Ramsey entered, looking rather harried. One couldn’t easily tell, as his hair was immaculately combed back as usual, collar still upright and stiff, but I’d worked with him for fifteen years. The flat, pinched line of his mouth showed he was at the end of his rope.
“Ramsey,” I said. “Shouldn’t you be done for today?”
“You should as well,” he snarked, coming to a standstill right next to my desk. “Why do you have a full plate of cookies?”
Thank gods and goddesses I’d already handed James the tea. That would have been much harder to explain away. “I’m hungry. Plus, I need the sugar to get through all of this. What brings you here?”
“Her Majesty wishes to know if Prince James is angry with her. Her Majesty has been beside herself all afternoon, crying in fits. She is now drinking herself into a state of stupidity. I don’t know how to snap her out of it.”
I could not for the life of me think of why I was getting this question. “Does he have cause to be?”
“They apparently had a tiff earlier in the hallway.”
“Oh.” For fuck’s sake, I had enough on my plate. Why did I have to manage the queen’s emotions as well? “What about?”
“She said training with his knights was beneath him, and he apparently tore a strip off her hide in response.”
I snorted, not the least bit surprised. “She was stupid to even suggest so.”
Ramsey’s head canted to the side. “That’s a bold statement I didn’t foresee coming from you.”