Rolling my eyes, I grit my teeth at the blush that I can feel rising to my cheeks. “Stop that. You know I hate it when you make me blush.”
“But you look so sexy when you do.” He hides a smile behind his hand as he pretends to cough. “I just can’t help myself.”
Alesta waits for us near the turn in the hall. I look beyond her for any sign of an exit but see none. I inwardly groan, wishing someone would let me walk barefoot instead of tottering on these ridiculous heels. She casts a glance over my shoulder at Bastien and draws me away. He falls back to allow us room to speak in private.
“I have heard rumors this afternoon,” she whispers. She reaches out and teases my hair almost as an afterthought. “The palace servants seem abuzz about wedding plans.”
My mouth suddenly seems very dry. “Wedding… wedding plans? So soon?”
Alesta’s hand tightens upon my arm. “King Aloysius is nothing if not motivated. Knowing him, you will be married within the week, if not sooner.”
I can tell by her gaze that she is saddened by this thought. Her illusions of a happy bride were burst the first moment she walked into my room. Bastien doesn’t trust her, but I choose to. It may be foolish of me, but I need to believe there are some good people here.
Staring down at my hand, I wonder how long my ring finger will remain barren. I suppose they exchange rings here. I realize with a start that I know nothing of their customs. Kyan always steered us away from that topic and now, when I need the information the most, I’m left clueless.
Alesta resumes her rapid pace. The sun has begun to set and I know the king must be waiting. “I feel like I’m losing myself,” I whisper conspiratorially to her, but I know Bastien heard too.
“I’ll be with you.” Glancing back over her shoulder, she smiles at Bastien. He simply nods. “We’ll be with you.”
“Thank you.” My throat tightens as Alesta brings me to a halt before two sweeping glass doors, covered in beautiful white gossamer. I can see the palace grounds beyond, glowing with a nearly iridescent hue in the fading light.
Opening the doors, Alesta steps aside. “I’ll be here when you are done.”
I step through the doors, grateful that Bastien is right on my heels. He walks closer than he needs to, but I don’t tell him to back off. I feel more confident with him near me.
“You have a tear in the back of your dress,” he mutters under his breath.
I stiffen, horrified at the thought, but then I realize there is hardly any need. It’s not as if people can’t see everything already. “Why didn’t you tell me before we stepped outside?”
“I was going to… but then I started to enjoy the view.”
If there’d been a way to swat him without gaining the attention of peering eyes, I would have gladly done it. Instead, I force a smile onto my face and walk ahead. I put a little sway into my walk, enjoying the slight hitch in his breath. I can play this game just as well as you can, I inwardly gloat.
I spy Aloysius standing with his hands clasped behind his back and feel panic grip me. “Stay with me,” I whisper just before he turns and I feel myself fade away.
“My darling.” Aloysius hurries to my side, leaning in to place a kiss on both of my cheeks. “I was getting worried. You were delayed.”
Of course I was. Did you really think I would want to be near you?
“There is a tear in my dress.” Aloysius glances beside me at Bastien. He stands rigid several feet back, staring blankly at the water fountain. The image of a perfectly obedient servant. “I do apologize for keeping you waiting. I only wanted to look my best.”
I wish I could knock myself out!
“Of course.” He offers his arm and I take it. “My thanks to you, slave, but you may leave us. She will be perfectly safe in my company.”
Bastien bows low and spins on his heel, leaving me without a single glance back. His steps are wooden, forced.
No! Wait! Come back! Don’t leave me with him!
I smile up at Aloysius as he leads me from the stone garden and down a path leading away from the veranda. “It’s beautiful here,” I whisper, peering across the darkened lawn. Small pots of flame line the pathway, flickering in brilliant reds and purples. I stare at them in wonder, but Aloysius draws me past. “I feel as if I’m in a dream.”
“A good dream, I hope.”
“Oh yes,” I say breathlessly as he leads me toward a bench. It is low and smooth, made of the same veined stone as the palace walls. He allows me to sit before releasing my arm. He sinks down beside me, his hand resting against my back, his thumb brushing against my spine.