Ugh. Why did she have to bring that up?
I met Isabella's gaze, my eyes sharp and collected. "And why, exactly, is that any of your concern?"
Did she think I would blush? Did she expect me to stammer and sweat like a debutante caught in a scandal? She seemed to have forgotten who I am, and I was more than happy to remind her.
"I... I didn't mean it in that way!" she stuttered, her face heating up.
Look at her—all worked up because she couldn't get a rise out of me.
"You see," I continued, leaning back against the silk pillows, "His Highness prepared all of this for me. I am so important to him that he even had this nightgown custom-made for me on the spot."
Of course, I was lying through my teeth. Who knew what was actually going through that psycho's mind when he put me in his chambers? But seeing Isabella turn red with suppressed rage gave me a jolt of pure, delicious joy.
I turned my attention to the Duke. "My lord, I have only just woken up and I am exhausted. If you would allow me to rest, it would be greatly appreciated."
Father didn't say a word. He simply gave a curt nod and walked out of the room. Yet, something about the way he left didn't sit right with me. It was too quiet.
Isabella, however, couldn't leave without a final sting. She leaned down, whispering into my ear, "See you soon, my dear sister. I'll be the one shining as Queen... while you are stuck with him. Or not. Given his reputation, who knows if you'll even survive?"
She pulled away with a giggle and vanished through the door. Who even wants to be Queen? I thought, rolling my eyes. I was perfectly fine as I was.
Once they were gone, silence finally returned. Maria remained behind to care for me, and for some reason, I found myself falling asleep much faster here than I ever did at the Ellington estate.
I don't know how much time had passed when I felt a pair of arms wrap around me from behind.
The heat was unmistakable. I slowly turned to look—it was the Prince. Why was he here? Right... it was his bed, after all. He didn't say anything, instead burying his face into the small of my back.
"Your Highness?" I called out softly.
I shifted my body to face him. He didn't look up; he just buried his face against my chest. I felt a dampness seeping through the fabric. Was he...?
"Your Highness, are you drooling? Because if you are, I would prefer you didn't."
He remained silent. Of course, I knew he wasn't drooling. I knew he was vibrating with a tension I couldn't understand. For reasons I couldn't explain, I found myself wrapping my arms around his neck, holding his head against my chest. My fingers traced the golden strands of his hair.
As sleep began to claim me again, a hazy memory flickered. Have I held someone like this before? The thought vanished into the darkness before I could grasp it.
A few days passed.
The doctors insisted I needed rest, but I felt more like a hostage than a patient.
"Maria," I called out.
"Yes, my lady?"
"Prepare a dress. I am going outside."
I almost changed my mind when I saw what she brought out. What was that bastard thinking? The wardrobe he had prepared was... extensive. And this dress? I hate the color pink, yet even I had to admit his taste was better than mine. The soft hue looked shockingly good against my skin.
I smoothed the skirts, feeling like a different person. But no amount of silk or lace could have prepared me for what happened the moment I stepped outside.