He straightens off the table and moves closer until he’s standing in front of me, his shadow dwarfing mine. “Do I have that much power over you already?”
“I haven’t given you any power,” I seethe, my hand itching to reach out and smack the grin off his face.
He tsks, shaking his head. “That’s the thing about power, ma petite menteuse. It’s never given freely. You have to take it.”
“You speak French?” I don’t know what he just called me, but the way it flowed off his tongue like silky chocolate makes my insides quake.
He smirks. “I’m a prince.”
His arm rises, and my breath sticks in my lungs, waiting for the searing heat of his touch, but it never comes. Instead, he presses his hand next to my head. There’s a loud creak and then the wall is moving, an entryway appearing as if it’s formed out of thin air. My eyes grow wide as I twist to face it, staring into a darkened tunnel; its walls made of rock as if the castle has melded its insides within the mountain it sits on.
“Lady.”
My hand moves to my chest, my mind whirling with questions. Do the tunnels only exist within the buildings? Do they go underground to town? Who all knows of them?
“Hey lady, you’re stepping on my sword.”
I’m jolted into the present, my eyes swinging down into the light-brownish-orange gaze of a child.
“Oh.” I step back, my foot releasing the toy sword trapped beneath me. “I’m so sorry.”
My corset digs into my ribs as I lean down to pick it up, staying crouched as I hold it in my hands. “Are you a knight?” I ask.
His chest puffs out, a small smudge of what looks like black soot streaked across his brown skin. “I’m the king.”
“Oh.” My eyes widen, and I raise my hand to my head. “Of course, I should have known. You look the part of a mighty king.”
Bowing my head, I hold out his toy. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.”
A smile tips the corners of his lips as he reaches out, taking the sword back from my hands. “Who are you?” he asks. “I’ve never seen you before, and my mama knows all the people who work here.”
“This is Lady Beatreaux,” Tristan says from behind me. “Milady, this is Simon.”
Simon’s head cocks, his eyes trailing up and down my form as if he’s judging whether I’ll get to live or die.
“Do we like her?” he asks.
Tristan chuckles, and the sound sends confusion tinkling through my insides, twisting up the narrative of him I’ve had painted in my head. He seems genuine with this child, as if he cares for him.
His stare burns through me as he places his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “We do.”
My breath catches, butterflies erupting until my stomach soars.
Simon scrunches his nose as he looks at me. “You’re still a girl though, so I can’t like you too much.”
I laugh, standing upright and running my palms down the front of my dress, trying to shake off the unsettled feeling brewing inside of me. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, Your Majesty, but there’s not much I can do to help that.”
“Yeah. I guess not.” His eyes glance over at me once more before turning to Paul. “I’m hungry. Got any grub?”
Twisting toward the prince, I place my hands on my hips, keeping my voice low. “Why are you always showing up everywhere I am? I was told you were a ghost in this castle, yet here you are. All the time.”
“Have you been asking about me?” He grins.
Irritation clamps down on my middle. “Please. Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Does it bother you that I’m here?”
“You bother me, in general,” I reply.
He sighs. “My brother requests your presence. I’m simply the pony brought here to carry you back.”
I laugh. “I find it hard to believe you’d ever allow yourself to be ridden like a horse.”
His eyes flash, and embarrassment bleeds through me, realizing what I just said and how it sounded. His mouth opens, but I throw my hand in the air. “Don’t. Say. Anything.”
“Tristan! You can’t leave!” Simon squeals, pushing past me so fast I’m jerked to the side. For the third time today, I’m surprised, as this small child throws himself around Tristan’s legs in a tight hug, and my irritation melts away as Tristan kneels until he’s level with the little boy’s face, brushing the smudge of dirt from his cheek.
“Have you been in the tunnels all day?” he asks.