Rielle helped Ludivine rise and walked her to the bed. She drew back the covers and helped Ludivine lie down, then snuggled close beside her. Resting her cheek against Ludivine’s shoulder, she let Ludivine cry herself out, and when at last Ludivine stopped, Rielle looked up with a smile.
“You’d better not wipe your nose in my hair.”
Ludivine let out a shaky laugh. “Can I stay here tonight?”
“I insist that you do.”
Another knock on the door: “Prince Audric to see Lady Rielle.”
“Let him in,” said Ludivine and Rielle at once.
Audric entered, then hesitated when he saw Rielle and Ludivine in bed. “I can come back later.”
“Don’t you dare.” Ludivine patted the pillows. “Come. We’re having a party.”
Audric approached cautiously. “Are you crying, Lu?”
“Yes, she is,” answered Rielle, “and if you don’t hurry up and get over here, she’ll start all over again, and you’ll feel terrible about it.”
Audric rubbed a hand through his hair. “Is this really the wisest thing to do? I mean, considering…”
“Audric, calm down, there’s not anything wrong in it. I almost died today. I thought I’d never see either of you again, and I’d like my friends near tonight. Come lie down with us.” She sat up, extended a hand to him. “Like when we were little?”
His expression as he took her hand was unbearably fond. “We’re not little anymore.”
“Pretend it for me. We used to play pretend all the time. Remember?”
Ludivine laughed. “I recall a certain prince obsessed with pretending he was a horse day and night, running down the halls on all fours and banging up his knees.”
Audric settled in the bed beside Rielle, above the blankets. Disappointment nettled her, but she bit her tongue to keep from teasing him. She would be satisfied with his nearness and the solid heat of his body.
“I was a very good horse, I thought,” said Audric. “I had the neigh down and everything.”
“There was a particular day,” Rielle added, “when you tucked one of your mother’s scarves into your trousers and pretended it was your tail.”
Evyline’s cough sounded suspiciously like it was meant to cover laughter.
“Go on,” said Audric, stretching out on the bed with a happy sigh. “Keep embarrassing me. I don’t mind.”
Beside Rielle, hidden from view by the bed linens, Audric touched his hand to hers. She wrapped her fingers around his, warmth rushing sweetly down her body, and felt herself dangerously close to moving right where she shouldn’t.
? ? ?
“You should have visited me sooner.”
Rielle tried not to scowl. Garver Randell had done that enough for the both of them. “It was rather a busy day yesterday,” she said dryly, “what with the attempted murder and all. Besides, I saw the king’s healer right away.”
“That man’s an idiot. Why do you think Audric comes to me instead?” Garver screwed a lid onto the jar and shoved it across the table at her. “Take a spoonful four times a day until it’s gone. Waspfog is a nasty poison. You’ll feel queasiness for days, can’t do anything about it, but this will help.”
“How much do I owe you for it?”
“Only this: next time you’re poisoned or almost murdered or stabbed or strangled or—”
“I get the point.”
“Yes, well, next time, don’t wait a night before coming to see me.” Garver heaved himself up from his chair with a tired grunt. “Prompt, proper care conducted by healers who are not idiots can make the difference between life and death. Even for Sun Queens.”
With his back turned, Rielle rolled her eyes.
“I heard that,” he said mildly.
Rielle grinned, then looked out the open door to the courtyard, where Audric was showing Garver’s little son, Simon, how the chavaile liked to be petted. Beyond the courtyard, people crowded at Garver’s front gate, gaping at the prince and the godsbeast, probably wondering why this boy was special enough to get an audience with the creature.
“It’s funny,” she murmured, watching tensely as Simon reached for the chavaile’s neck with his eyes squeezed shut.
But the chavaile only closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.
Garver had started to sweep. “Hmm? What’s funny?”
“Atheria doesn’t usually like it when people touch her.”