Not at all would be nice. “Could Corrin—”
“No.” The answer is so abrupt, it startles me. He sighs, his tone softening. “Corrin was Princess Romeria’s lady maid and loyal to my brother. The only reason she’s still alive and in her position is that she was equally loyal to my parents, and she runs the castle’s household better than anyone else. But I am not a complete fool. I only trust her so far.”
“That is fair.”
Blue eyes bore into mine, narrowing. “You still falter. Why?” There’s a hint of suspicion growing. It’s never a good thing to have a king suspicious of you when someone just tried to kill him.
My face flushes. “Mortals are far more modest than Islorians, Your Highness.” And I’m struggling to decide which would be less mortifying: having this Islorian male’s gaze on me, or his hands. My body hasn’t healed from childbirth yet.
And he is a king.
He nods slowly as if digesting my apprehension and searching for a solution around it. And then a twinkle sparks in his eyes. “Would it help if I …” He reaches for a button on his tunic, unfastening it, then another. Half were already undone when he arrived, and now they’re all undone, and he’s reaching for the hem to pull his shirt off.
“No!” My hands fly to his, clamping over them, stopping them from their work. The brief contact spikes my heart rate, but then I pull back as if burned, realizing I’ve touched him without his permission. “I’m so sorry, Your Highness.”
He doesn’t seem offended, though, his lips curved with amusement. “I was just trying to even the playing field.”
“That is kind, but there is no need for it.” And there’s no avoiding this. At least it’s dark. With a slow exhale, my stomach churning, I reach upward, to the collar of my nightgown.
“Stop.”
My hand freezes.
He sighs heavily and steps closer, until he’s looming over me, the heat from his body radiating against my skin. His eyes remain locked on my face as his hands fumble with the soft fabric folds of my nightgown, grazing my thighs in the process. “Are these the only pockets in this nightgown?”
“Yes, Your Highness, and you will always find them empty of anything harmful to you.” I swallow against my nerves and look up, praying he sees only sincerity. “I would never harm someone who showed my family such mercy as you have.”
His eyes settle on my mouth. He has such long lashes. “I would hope not, because there are far worse Islorians out there than I who wish to sit on this throne.”
“Yes, you are about to marry one.” The seamstress Dagny claims a daaknar would be friendlier than the Lady Saoirse.
The king’s eyebrows climb halfway up his forehead with genuine shock.
“I mean … I …” I can’t even come up with a suitable excuse for my idiocy. I am usually much smarter than this. Why did my lips loosen for him?
I tense as the king’s hand settles on my throat, his cool fingers curling around it. He could snap my neck with no effort, squeeze until the airflow cuts off. Suddenly, this dank little room blazes, as my pulse hammers in my veins, and I wait for him to dole out my punishment for insulting his future queen.
But he doesn’t squeeze or otherwise threaten me injury. His thumb smooths a circle against my skin while his gaze roams over my face, before slipping down to my exposed neckline. Heat flares in his eyes. If the guard died while testing Sabrina, then the king hasn’t tended to his needs yet tonight.
He leans forward.
And I brace myself for the prick of those fangs, the pull against my flesh, as if my very vein is being tugged through my skin.
“If anyone asks, you undressed for me, and I searched you thoroughly,” he whispers, his lips grazing my earlobe, sending an unexpected wave of pleasure through me to combat the fear. “We don’t want Boaz circling back for his own inspection.”
I swallow. “Yes, Your Highness.”
He lingers another long moment before pulling away abruptly and stalking toward the door. Throwing it open, he marches out without a look back.
I can’t say how long I stand there, but eventually Suri’s cries can’t be ignored.
By the time Corrin returns with my other children, I’ve fed and tucked her in and righted our room. The chaos within the servants’ quarters has faded, the guards searching for the perpetrator elsewhere. It doesn’t sound like they’ve found one here. I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.