I let out a small laugh. “I look forward to watching your performance. Actually, you will be performing from what I understand?”
“Indeed,” he says. “If all goes well, I will present myself to your court with a formal show of magic.”
“I must admit, I’m especially excited to see it. From what my father has said, your magic is fascinating.”
“I’ll gild something just for you,” he says with a wink.
My heart skips a beat. “I’d like that very much.”
His smile softens, but when I reach out to grab my teacup again, he captures my hand instead. A gasp sucks through my lips at such a bold move, and my eyes dart to the right again to see if my ladies noticed, but thankfully, they’re actually keeping their heads down on their needlework for once.
“Your hand is quite cold,” he says quietly as his thumb skates over my skin.
“They’re always like that.” I’m embarrassed at how shaken my voice sounds. “Everything about this kingdom is cold. Its princess included.”
He hums beneath his breath, eyes locked on my pale skin, while I take the moment to be able to study his face. He’s handsome, there’s no doubt about that. With his clean-shaved face and arched brows and so much charm packed into a single expression. It’s no wonder my breath catches again when he lifts his eyes to mine.
For a moment, I get lost in the depths of his eyes, and I wonder if he gets lost in mine. I’ve heard some men say that the pale blue of my eyes is unnerving. Yet when he looks at me like this…I don’t think he’s unnerved.
No, he looks at me like he’s thinking about doing things far too inappropriate during high tea.
“May I ask you a question, Princess?” he purrs, making a shiver travel down my back.
“Yes.”
“If I asked for your hand in marriage, would you want to accept?”
My eyes go wide. Of course, I know that he and my father have been in discussion about it. Yet that’s something that the men always decide—especially when it comes to royals, and even more so when it has to do with a powerless princess.
“You’re asking my opinion?’’ The idea is ludicrous. None of the other would-be suitors have ever asked me whether or not I wanted to marry any of them. The fact that he is asking is a bit mind-boggling.
“I am,” he says.
“My father’s opinion is the one that matters.” There’s a hint of bitterness crawling over my words like biting ants. “You have an incredible power and wealth that could restore Sixth Kingdom’s glory and stability.”
“Yes,” he says slowly. “But I am not asking about your father or your kingdom. I’m asking about you.”
Startled, I blink at him, my straight spine hitting the back of my chair.
“If you don’t want this, tell me at once,” he says, eyes looking between mine, his hand still holding my own with a steady warmth that’s so foreign. “I would never wish to move forward with something that you didn’t wish for. Would it make you happy, Princess?”
Sincerity drips off his tone like honey from a spoon. Slow and sweet, making me want to lean forward and lap it up.
This must be what it’s like. This must be what all those silly romance plays are about.
“I would be happy,” I finally answer quietly, though that word…I’m not sure I truly know what being happy means. I haven’t been happy since before my mother died years ago. But I would like to be happy again.
I would like to have a husband who I actually liked. Who actually liked me. I would like to have control over my life and not always be thrust away by my father, forever punished for being born a girl without any magic. If it weren’t for my white Colier hair, I suspect he may have tried to denounce me as his heir years ago.
I don’t even realize that a tear has dripped down my cheek until Tyndall lets go of my hand to reach up to brush it away.
Not once has a man ever touched my cheek. My own father never even placed a kiss there when I was young. So perhaps that’s why it feels like such an intimate thing. Perhaps I am so starved for and startled by touch, that it’s the reason I freeze beneath it.
“None of that,” he says quietly, and I don’t know whether I want to cry or smile, but he’s somehow gotten me to do both in the same hour, when I’ve gone without either for so long.
I marvel at the feel of his hand cupping my cheek. Marvel at how, for the first time in my life, I actually want.
Yet the moment is broken with the sharp hit that comes from the clearing of a throat. Suddenly remembering we’re not alone, I jerk away from him, gaze darting over to my ladies. They’re all looking at me now, disapproval pulling at their brows. Yet their chastisement doesn’t quite ring true. Not with the glint of excitement in their eyes now that they have a piece of gossip to later spread throughout the castle.