Prince Zhao Yifeng stared at her like she had grown a second head. "What?"
"I mean—" Soyeon's eyes widened as she realized what she had done. She dropped into a hasty bow, her words tumbling over themselves. "I apologize! I apologize, Your Highness! I spoke out of turn! I only meant, my chambers are in the Cold Moon Palace, my things are there, I don't want to impose on your household, Your Highness—"
She could feel every eye boring into her back. Stupid, her brain screamed. You just refused him again. In front of everyone. Again.
When she dared to peek up, Prince Zhao Yifeng's expression was unreadable.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then, slowly, his trademark smile slid back into place. But it didn't reach his eyes.
"If that's what you want," he said softly.
He stepped closer, and Soyeon forced herself not to flinch. His hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing gently across the dried blood there. The gesture was tender, possessive.
