Chapter 28
Chapter
My courage has always arrived when summoned.
Until her.
If a stare were able to set a soul aflame, I’d be little more than ash and ribbon beneath the dark knight’s gaze. Like a hungry man he stands before me, at a table he’d sooner tend to than sit.
Why, of all the men to be tasked with delivering my heart, did it have to be the one who’s captivated it so?
I swallow my longing—and a healthy dose of shame—as I rise to my feet.
Frog sucks in a breath before turning away.
“Your bath, Miss Sunday.” His voice is rougher than before, like it’s caged behind iron and monastic restraint.
I watch with bated breath as he slowly bends at the waist and sets a steaming pail of water between us. He may as well have gotten down on one knee, so reverent is the way he looks up at me.
“The rags are clean,” he says. “And the water should remain warm for some time. But should you need more—”
“I need only ask you and you’ll give it to me. Unless of course my request is to sleep with you.” I tuck a loose curl behind my ear, no longer hiding the warmth in my cheeks from the rebellion raging beneath my ribs.
“That is what you were going to say, is it not?” I whisper, stepping closer to the knight.
Frog stumbles back a step, his breath hitching in his throat.
I take another step closer, and then another, until his back is flush against the carriage door.
“I believe this is the part where you say yes,” I taunt softly, sinking my teeth into my lip.
Frog’s eyes flicker to my mouth, darkening a shade.
I have half a mind to cease the jest before it becomes something forbidden, when the pad of Frog’s thumb brushes across my bottom lip, slow enough to make my heart skip.
A shaky breath escapes me, and somehow his silence is louder than anything he could have said.
I lean into his feather-light touch, and on his thumb, bestow a gentle kiss.
Frog’s gaze falters, his dark lashes lowering as he drags in a trembling breath.
Without thinking I reach for his mask. But before I can pull it away, he stops me, gently wrapping his hand around mine and easing it from his face.
“Enjoy your bath, Miss Sunday,” he says, swallowing hard as he offers me one last heated glance. Then he opens the carriage door and steps out.
I really should have held onto a little more of that shame.
With an exaggerated sigh, I march toward the pail and begin to bathe, running the rag all over, except for where the warmth of Frog’s featherlight touch still lingers.
If I didn’t already hate the prince who owns my hand, tonight would have surely swayed me. For I cannot fathom ever being touched by another man, let alone a hollow-hearted heathen such as Thoren. Even if a life with him does mean a life under the sun.
I turn from the window, refusing to acknowledge the realm outside. The price of its beauty is far too high.
I think of Thoren’s hands on my body and scrub a little harder, paying special attention to the long tresses of my hair where the prince’s fingers once curled.
It’s the first night in a few days where I’ve truly been alone with my thoughts. No Buttons or Rhidland to soothe me.
I suppose I could call for them, but judging by the symphony of snores pouring in from outside, they’re likely already asleep.
It’s fine.
I’m fine.
It’s not like I’m on a dangerous trek through the disenchanted forest to marry the cruelest man this realm has ever had.
I lie on the floor, staring wide-eyed at the carriage ceiling when suddenly I hear something. A low, mournful thrum—the same one that had made a home within my tower.
Once was a coincidence, but twice?
Slowly, I peel myself off the carriage floor and crawl toward the window where the melody is loudest. My pulse dances beneath my skin as I peek just above the window’s lip to see—
Frog? He’s standing with his arms folded across his chest, his brow quirked as he looks up at me.
My shoulders slump. There’s not a ghost to be seen, and the realm is once again quiet.
“You scared my ghost away.” I sigh as the hope of unmasking at least one of my mysterious men slips through my fingers.
Frog’s brows lift in question. Slowly he glances from side-to-side, humoring my madness.
“What’s this ghost look like? Perhaps I could help you find him,” he offers, but I don’t miss the amusement bracketing his eyes. “Is he well dressed? Translucent, maybe? How about feet, does he have those? Or does he just float about?”
I can’t help it, I burst into laughter.
“Frog!” I smile, tears in my eyes.
“My apologies.” He shrugs, then cuts me what I can only imagine is a devastating smile. But I only see the way his eyes crinkle, his mouth blocked by his mask. “The sheet probably makes it hard to tell.”
I fall back into the carriage, overcome with laughter.
“Hey, no big deal or anything, but some of us are trying very hard to be unconscious,” Merrek grumbles.
I clap a hand over my mouth as I climb back up to the window.
“Sorry,” I call out, lowering my voice to a whisper.
Frog shakes his head, eyes glinting with mischief.
“This is your fault, you know?” I chide.
“My fault?” He reels back, brows lifted.
“Your fault!” I point, unable to hide my grin. “I’d be asleep if it weren’t for you.”
“Would you, though?” he quips, bringing his hands to rest on his hips.
“I would have tried,” I confess, twirling my damp curls between my fingers. “Because sleep is important, not that you would know.”
Frog cuts me a sidewise glance.
“I sleep,” he mutters.
“Really?” I drawl, meeting his gaze through lowered lashes.
He shrugs one shoulder before dipping his chin.
Hmm. “Prove it then,” I challenge, propping my elbows on the window to rest my chin on my hands.
Frog shakes his head, his mask hiding the smile evident in his eyes.
“That’d defeat the purpose.”
“Of what?” I ask, dropping my hands.
“Watching over you while you sleep,” he says. “Goodnight, Miss Sunday. Again.”
He turns on his heel, preparing to leave.
Unfortunately for us all, I’m a princess with tenacity.
“Come sleep beside me then.”
The dark knight freezes, but he doesn’t turn around.
“Or, I could go out there and join you and the rest of the men. I’m sure Merrek would be more than happy to share his—”
Frog doesn’t let me finish, disappearing around the carriage.
“Frog?” I poke my head out the window, searching the sun-kissed sand for his footsteps, when a warm breeze stirs at my back.
My heart racing, I turn to find him standing over me.
“How did you…” I lean, noting the still closed door.
“Will you sleep if I stay?” His voice is rough, stripped of the teasing warmth it carried only moments ago.
I nod, my throat tightening around the words I suddenly can’t seem to say.
Frog bows his head, swallowing hard as he slowly lowers himself to sit beside me. His shoulder rubs against mine and I forget how to breathe.
What was I thinking? Promising him I’d sleep with him near. If the sweeping sensation low in my belly is any indicator, I will be doing nothing of the sort.
“Is this alright?” Frog tenses.
“Yes,” I manage.
“Do you…sleep sitting up?” he asks.
I look to him, expecting some sort of jest. Instead, his eyes remain lowered, following the faint tremble of his hands.
My chest tightens. I don’t know what frightens me more—that he’s nervous…or that I know exactly why.
“Normally I take every palliasse in the castle, and stack them one on top of the other until I’m lying just beneath the stars.” I give a half-hearted laugh, hoping to ease the tension between us. But it only draws the silence tighter, until it feels like we’re both holding our breath.
Frog clears his throat, his gaze refusing to settle.
“Would you…like to do that?” he asks.
My forehead puckers. “Climb a stack of…palliasse?”
The knight’s shoulders loosen, a soft laugh escaping behind his mask. When his eyes finally find mine, the small spark in my chest becomes a flame.
For a long moment neither of us speaks.
Slowly, I sink to the floor, unable to look away. His gaze clings to me—steady, searching, as though he’s trying to memorize a moment neither of us should want.
Then, without looking away, he joins me on the floor.
The frayed rug beneath us is cold, but the space between us hums with a warmth I don’t dare name.
And yet… “Frog?”
“Yes, Miss Sunday?”
“You once said you were frightened by me…” I say.
He lets his eyes fall shut as he blows out a long, slow breath.
I hesitate, afraid to ask. Afraid to know.
“Do I still make you feel this way?”
His eyes open, and the ache in them tells me everything I wish it didn’t.
“Miss Sunday—”
“It’s alright,” I interrupt, sealing the shattering of hope beneath closed eyes. “I’ll simply have to try again tomorrow,” I whisper, then turn to face the other way.
“Try what?” Frog asks as I surrender to the sleep beckoning my name.
“To win you over.” I yawn, already slipping into a dream, where the scent of wild orange and cinnamon wraps itself around me and Frog whispers sweet nothings while gently combing his fingers through my hair…
“I’m already yours, Miss Sunday. Heart, body and soul. It’s you I fear losing…”
Muffled voices reach me through the carriage door, shouting and cursing, spoiling my good dream.
“…we don’t wish for any trouble—”
“Then move.”
“You’ll go no further.”
I toss and turn, trying to decipher them in my sleep. Then the sharp clang of metal striking metal slices through the air, and I jolt awake.
“Frog,” I gasp, my hand shooting for the knight. Only, he isn’t there.
My stomach tightens.
What in the realm is going on?
Another voice barks from outside, followed by the unmistakable hiss of steel leaving its scabbard.
Oh god, no!
I sprint to the carriage door and throw it open. A cold mist from the sea washes over me, alluding to the danger that awaits.
Four strange men cloaked in crimson hoods surround us. Two stand on the narrow road ahead, while the other two have settled behind the carriage, their swords drawn. With the thick foliage to our left, and the sheer drop to our right, we’ve nowhere else to go.