knocked once and when there was no response, I slowly
opened the door. “Your Highness?”
The room was darkened, the curtains drawn. At first, I
couldn’t see anything, until my eyes adjusted to the thickness of
the gloom. The prince sat in his large armchair, his head between
his hands, elbows propped up on his desk. His perfectly pomaded
52
hair was actually in disarray. There was a feeling of heaviness in the room, as though the air had taken on the weight of something
unseen, something pressing in, pressing down .
“Your Highness?” I repeated, my stomach twisting nervously
when he didn’t respond.
Prince Damian lifted his head, his piercing blue eyes meeting
mine. There was a look of such unguarded unhappiness on his face
that my heart lurched unwittingly beneath my ribs.
“Alex,” he said, his voice low, in a tone I’d never heard before.
“Sir?” I took a half step toward him.
The prince stood up abruptly, turning his back to me, and I
froze. A strange, unaccustomed silence settled upon the room.
“Sir, are you . . . all right?” My heart beat harder in my chest.
He drew in a sharp breath and I f linched. Had that been too
womanly a thing to say? Would a man have asked after his well-
being? I was a member of his personal guard — shouldn’t it be
normal to be concerned if he seemed . . . out of sorts? This was
twice now that I’d seen a side to him I never had before. I felt
unbalanced, as though the ground I stood on were suddenly shift-
ing beneath me.
“The girl — where is she?”
“She’s in the dungeon awaiting questioning, sir.”
“Very good.” When he faced me again, the unhappiness, the
something that was in his eyes, was gone. Here was the prince I knew. He reached up to smooth his hair back into place, his
motions practiced, memorized, almost lazy. One eyebrow lifted
while a small smirk slowly pulled at his mouth. “You will make
sure she receives the full punishment of the law, I assume? You,
who always puts duty first, right, Alex?”
53
I wasn’t sure I understood what he was asking of me. It felt
like there was an underlying question, a hidden meaning beneath
his drawling voice. Sentencing Tanoori to death while practically
yawning.
“She will undoubtedly be punished to the full extent of the
law, Your Highness. Your safety is of the utmost importance.”
“As it should be. As it should be.” He lifted something from
his desk, and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. It
looked like a trinket of some sort. He suddenly closed his fist over
it, and I barely heard it clink against the signet ring on his finger.
“I’m quite all right. It was a shock, of course, to have the servant
come at me with a knife. But my men are good and stopped her in
time, obviously.” A strange look crossed his face when he looked
down at the object in his hand — that same hint of grief I’d seen
earlier this morning when he brief ly spoke of his brother. “If she
had succeeded, though, do you suppose anyone would mourn
my loss?”
I stiffened. “Sir?”
Prince Damian looked up at me, his expression hooded. “My
mother is gone. My brother is gone. My father hardly realizes I’m
alive. If I had died today, do you think anyone would have cried at
my funeral?”
I stared at the prince, at a complete loss for words. My
hands were clammy at my side. “Sir, I . . . I believe there would
be many —”
“Would you have cared?” He cut me off abruptly. “If you had
come back from the practice ring to find me lying here dead,
would you have cried for me, Alex?”
54
“Y-your Highness, how can you ask me such a thing?” I real-
ized too late that my voice had come out too high, too feminine,
but he didn’t even blink.
“I suppose that’s my answer, then.” Damian set the trinket
down hard on the desk and waved his fingers at me. “You may go.”
I nodded, backing toward the door. “Yes, sir.”
I had failed him
opened the door. “Your Highness?”
The room was darkened, the curtains drawn. At first, I
couldn’t see anything, until my eyes adjusted to the thickness of
the gloom. The prince sat in his large armchair, his head between
his hands, elbows propped up on his desk. His perfectly pomaded
52
hair was actually in disarray. There was a feeling of heaviness in the room, as though the air had taken on the weight of something
unseen, something pressing in, pressing down .
“Your Highness?” I repeated, my stomach twisting nervously
when he didn’t respond.
Prince Damian lifted his head, his piercing blue eyes meeting
mine. There was a look of such unguarded unhappiness on his face
that my heart lurched unwittingly beneath my ribs.
“Alex,” he said, his voice low, in a tone I’d never heard before.
“Sir?” I took a half step toward him.
The prince stood up abruptly, turning his back to me, and I
froze. A strange, unaccustomed silence settled upon the room.
“Sir, are you . . . all right?” My heart beat harder in my chest.
He drew in a sharp breath and I f linched. Had that been too
womanly a thing to say? Would a man have asked after his well-
being? I was a member of his personal guard — shouldn’t it be
normal to be concerned if he seemed . . . out of sorts? This was
twice now that I’d seen a side to him I never had before. I felt
unbalanced, as though the ground I stood on were suddenly shift-
ing beneath me.
“The girl — where is she?”
“She’s in the dungeon awaiting questioning, sir.”
“Very good.” When he faced me again, the unhappiness, the
something that was in his eyes, was gone. Here was the prince I knew. He reached up to smooth his hair back into place, his
motions practiced, memorized, almost lazy. One eyebrow lifted
while a small smirk slowly pulled at his mouth. “You will make
sure she receives the full punishment of the law, I assume? You,
who always puts duty first, right, Alex?”
53
I wasn’t sure I understood what he was asking of me. It felt
like there was an underlying question, a hidden meaning beneath
his drawling voice. Sentencing Tanoori to death while practically
yawning.
“She will undoubtedly be punished to the full extent of the
law, Your Highness. Your safety is of the utmost importance.”
“As it should be. As it should be.” He lifted something from
his desk, and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. It
looked like a trinket of some sort. He suddenly closed his fist over
it, and I barely heard it clink against the signet ring on his finger.
“I’m quite all right. It was a shock, of course, to have the servant
come at me with a knife. But my men are good and stopped her in
time, obviously.” A strange look crossed his face when he looked
down at the object in his hand — that same hint of grief I’d seen
earlier this morning when he brief ly spoke of his brother. “If she
had succeeded, though, do you suppose anyone would mourn
my loss?”
I stiffened. “Sir?”
Prince Damian looked up at me, his expression hooded. “My
mother is gone. My brother is gone. My father hardly realizes I’m
alive. If I had died today, do you think anyone would have cried at
my funeral?”
I stared at the prince, at a complete loss for words. My
hands were clammy at my side. “Sir, I . . . I believe there would
be many —”
“Would you have cared?” He cut me off abruptly. “If you had
come back from the practice ring to find me lying here dead,
would you have cried for me, Alex?”
54
“Y-your Highness, how can you ask me such a thing?” I real-
ized too late that my voice had come out too high, too feminine,
but he didn’t even blink.
“I suppose that’s my answer, then.” Damian set the trinket
down hard on the desk and waved his fingers at me. “You may go.”
I nodded, backing toward the door. “Yes, sir.”
I had failed him
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