He cocks his head to the side and studies me. “Did I hit a nerve?”
I swallow hard and reel in my emotions. I’ve shown too much of myself. “No. I don’t care what marriage means to you.”
He scoffs. “Sure you don’t. But you can relax. I’m not interested in anything from you but an alliance. Shall we?” He waves a hand, and a feast appears on the table. Piles of fresh-cut fruit, bowls of steaming potatoes, trays of thinly cut meats drizzled with aromatic sauces.
My mouth waters, and I’m suddenly famished. In the short weeks I’ve been in Faerie, I’ve become accustomed to regular, hearty meals, but I’ve only eaten once since leaving the palace. My stomach feels as if it might eat itself if I don’t feed it soon.
I’ve trusted Misha this far. I might as well continue, so I take a seat and wait as he sits opposite me. We quietly fill our plates, and I’m careful to let him take several bites before I begin. A small amount of caution can’t hurt.
But after I take my first bite, I nearly lose myself in the pleasure of it. The meat is tender and perfectly seasoned, and the fruit bursts with sweetness on my tongue.
I slow down only when I realize that Misha has leaned back in his chair and is watching me.
“What?” I put down my fork, my cheeks heating.
“I’m sorry I didn’t feed you when you arrived. You looked like you might fall over, and given that you’d recently taken the potion, I thought sleep would be best.” He glances at my plate, and I realize I’ve already eaten half of the food. “I may have chosen poorly.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not, but you will be. A few hearty meals and some more sleep, and you’ll feel nothing like you did when you arrived yesterday morning.”
I frown. “Yesterday? You mean this morning?”
He shakes his head. “You slept for a day and a half, Princess, and it probably wasn’t enough. I’ve heard stories of people sleeping for a solid week after taking the Potion of Life. Even after that, they’re usually urged to stay in bed for several days so their bodies can recover from the transformation. But you did neither. You had one night’s sleep before running across the Seelie countryside. Never mind the extraordinary amount of magical energy you expended to escape the Golden Palace and then help those children. By all rights, you should’ve collapsed before you made it past the palace gates.”
“Yet here I am.”
“Here you are. More powerful than I can explain.” He looks me over slowly, and everything about his perusal feels like approval. It’s tempting to feel flattered by the attention, but I resist. It’s undoubtedly some sort of manipulation.
Slowly and too conscious of the movement, I pick up my fork again and scoop a small bite.
“Where are all your people?” I ask before popping the food into my mouth.
Misha glances around the quiet terrace. “Assuming that’s not a literal question, you’re going to have to be more specific.”
“The courtiers,” I say, waving my fork. It seemed Sebastian was never alone. If one of his potential brides wasn’t with him, Riaan was at his side, usually along with several other sentries and members of his council. “Advisors, friends, the residents of your palace?” I pause. “Your wife? ”
He folds his arms on the table and leans forward. “Amira, the queen, is looking forward to meeting you, but she’s unavailable right now. As for the others . . .” He shrugs. “I wanted you to myself tonight. We have a lot to discuss, and most of it is far too important for me to invite other voices and ears into the conversation.”
I grunt. “What could you possibly need to discuss with me? I’m no one but a foolish girl who was tricked into bonding with a manipulative prince.” Again, more than I wanted to share. It seems I can’t help myself.
His eyes blaze, and he tilts his head to the side. “Your anger is intense. I like it.”
“You don’t know the half of my anger, but if this is a trick somehow—if you’re trying to force me to work with Finn or reunite with Sebastian—you’ll soon find out.”
He smirks. “Prince Ronan knows he cannot come to this palace, cannot come after you uninvited without risking a battle he would most definitely lose, but I’m tempted to invite him anyway—if only to let you unleash all the pent-up fury. It would be so much fun to watch.”
I bow my head and blow out a long, slow breath. “Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to rifle through another person’s private thoughts and emotions?”