There. Footsteps. The hard, steady thump of boots.
She bit her lip. Levana had given her no indication if Winter’s request would be accepted—she didn’t even know if her stepmother was going to consider the request—but it was possible. It was possible.
The guard who had been standing statuesque outside her chambers for the past four hours, relieved of duty, left. His footsteps were a perfect metronome to those that had just arrived.
There was a moment of shuffling as the new guard arranged himself against the corridor wall, the last line of defense should a spy or an assassin make an attack on the princess, and the first person responsible for whisking her away to safety should the security of Artemisia Palace ever be compromised.
She squeezed her eyes shut and fanned her fingers against the wall, as if she could feel his heartbeat through the stone.
Instead she felt something warm and sticky.
Gasping, she pulled away, finding her palm stained with blood.
Exasperated, she used the bloody hand to push her hair back, although it instantly tumbled forward again. “Not now,” she hissed to whatever demon thought this was an appropriate time to give her visions.
She closed her eyes again and counted backward from ten. When she opened them, the blood was gone and her hand was clean.
With a whistled breath, Winter adjusted her gown and opened the door wide enough to poke her head out. She turned to the statue of a guard outside her door, and her heart swelled.
“Oh—she said yes!” she squealed, whipping the door open the rest of the way. She trotted around to face Jacin.
If he’d heard her, he didn’t respond.
If he saw her, he showed no sign of it.
His expression was stone, his blue eyes focused on some point over her head.
Winter wilted, but it was from annoyance as much as disappointment. “Oh, please,” she said, standing toe-to-toe, chest-to-chest, which was not simple. Jacin’s flawless posture made her feel as if she were tilting backward, a breath away from falling over. “That’s not necessary, is it?”
Five complete, agonizing seconds passed in which she could have been staring at a mannequin, before Jacin took in a slow breath and let it out all at once. His gaze dropped to hers.
That was all. Just the breath. Just the eyes.
But it made him human again, and she beamed. “I’ve been waiting all day to show you something. Come here.”
Winter danced around him again, retreating back into her sitting parlor. She skipped to the desk on the other side of the room, where she’d draped her creation with a bedsheet. Taking hold of two corners, she turned back to the door.
And waited.
“Jacin?”
She waited some more.
Huffing, she released the sheet and stalked back toward the hall. Jacin hadn’t moved. Winter crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against her door frame, inspecting him. Seeing Jacin in his guard uniform was always bittersweet. On one hand, it was impossible not to notice how very handsome and authoritative he looked in it. On the other hand, the uniform marked him as the property of the queen. Still, he was particularly striking today, all freshly healed from his trial and smelling of soap.
She knew that he knew that she was standing there, staring at him. It was infuriating how he could do such a blasted good job of ignoring her.
Tapping a finger against the flesh of her elbow, she deadpanned, “Sir Jacin Clay, there is an assassin under my bed.”
His shoulders knotted. His jaw tensed. Three more seconds passed before he stepped away from the wall and marched into her chambers without looking her way. Past the covered surprise on the desk and straight through to her bedroom. Winter followed, shutting the door.
As soon as he reached the bed, Jacin knelt down and lifted the bed skirt.
“The assassin seems to have gotten away this time, Your Highness.” Standing, he turned back to face her. “Do let me know if he returns.”
He marched back toward the door, but she stepped in front of him and flashed a coquettish smile. “I certainly will,” she said, bouncing on her toes. “But as long as you’re here—”
“Princess.”
His tone was a warning, but she ignored him. Backing away into the parlor, she tore the sheet away, revealing a table-size model of their solar system, the planets suspended from silk strings. “Ta-da!”
Jacin didn’t come closer as she started fidgeting with the planets, but he also didn’t leave.