TEN
AS SOON AS AURORA RETURNED TO HER ROOM, SHE curled up in her armchair and opened her new book. The story turned out to be as terrible as it was addictive. Devious Dan stole and swashbuckled his way across the kingdom, jumping from one danger to another with only his dagger and his wits to protect him. His enemies cackled and the girls swooned as Dan dodged peril after peril on his hunt for legendary treasure. Reading it, Aurora couldn’t stop picturing Tristan as a ten-year-old boy, devouring the adventures at an impossible speed. Was this what had inspired his story of piracy and acrobatics?
His lips still seemed to linger against hers, all the excitement of the night captured in one fleeting moment. She did not want to sleep. She wanted to cling to the memory, to enjoy the way her heart still pounded. She wanted to read the book again and think, This is Tristan’s, too.
When Betsy opened the unlocked door the following morning, she paused for a long moment, staring at the ground. Then she closed it softly behind her and crept over to where Aurora sat. “Princess,” she said. “I know I am only your maid, so I hope you don’t think I am speaking out of place. . . .”
“You’re not only my maid, Betsy,” Aurora said. “You’re not only anything.”
Betsy nodded. “The thing is—if someone has been unlocking your door, you must tell me. It’s important. I don’t know whether you’re aware of it happening or not, but I’m worried for you.”
“Please don’t worry about me,” Aurora said. “It’s just sometimes—it’s stifling in here at night. I like to walk the corridors. The guards are always nearby.”
“Even so, Princess. It’s dangerous for you to walk around alone.”
Aurora wanted to promise her that she would stay put, that of course she would be safe. But the music of the night before still hummed in her ear, the pressure of Tristan’s hand brushing against her lower back, and the words stuck in her throat. She needed to see him again. She would go mad, trapped here.
“Anyway, I’m glad you’re awake,” Betsy said, turning aside. “Prince Finnegan has requested breakfast with you. I thought maybe you could wear the gold dress, with the ribbon? It will look lovely on you—”
“Finnegan wants to eat breakfast with me?” After being berated by the queen for even playing cards with him, she had assumed she would not see much of him again.
“So I’ve been told. Isn’t that exciting?” Betsy pulled a dress out of the wardrobe and brushed down its skirts.
Aurora bit back a smile. “You think spending time with Finnegan is exciting?”
Betsy blushed. She shook out the dress once more, and then scurried over to Aurora, holding it in front of her. “Well . . . he is very handsome, Princess. Not as lovely as Rodric, of course, but . . . handsome.”
“Perhaps you should go instead. You seem far more excited than I am.”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Betsy said. “I wouldn’t know what to do. I wouldn’t be able to say a word.”
“Now that I don’t believe.”
Betsy giggled. “No, no, Princess, I’d clam right up,” she said. “So it’s lucky it’s you and not me who’s got the pleasure. Now breathe in while I lace this up.”
The queen strode into the room half an hour later. She ran an appraising eye over Aurora, from her cinched-in waist to the wide skirts that swallowed her feet. She nodded. “Come along. Prince Finnegan is waiting.”
“I thought you didn’t want me speaking with him.”
The queen frowned. “Betsy, you are dismissed.” The maid curtsied and scurried out of the room. Once the door closed behind her, the queen spoke again. “You would question me in front of a servant?”
“I think I have a right to ask,” Aurora said. “Yesterday you warned me to stay away from him. You told me he was dangerous. And today I’m to eat breakfast with him as though we’re the best of friends?”
“No,” the queen snapped. “Not as though you are the best of friends. As though you are diplomatic allies. Which is what you are. Finnegan has requested a breakfast with you, and as he is our guest, we can hardly refuse him.”
“But—” You’re the queen, she wanted to say. Surely she could refuse whoever she pleased.
“Must you protest everything I say?” the queen said. “Come along. The sooner you go there, the sooner you can leave. And be on your best behavior. Do not treat him with the same impudence with which you treat me.”
The queen shepherded her into a small, cozy room on one of the lower floors of the castle. Finnegan stood by the fire, staring up at a painting, unattended by guards. He smiled when he saw them approach.
“My dear Iris! It is wonderful to see you again. And Aurora.” He bowed. “Thank you for coming to meet me this morning. I so very much wanted the chance to speak with you again.”
The queen forced a smile. “One of my attendants will be outside if you need anything,” she said. “I shall have breakfast sent to you momentarily.” The prince bowed graciously, and, with a warning look at Aurora, Iris was gone.
“Now, isn’t that better?” said the prince as soon as the door closed. “I cannot stand that woman.”
She stared at him. She felt the sudden urge to defend the queen, even though the words were ones that she herself had thought.
“Oh, don’t tell me you like her,” he said. “She’s such a miserable old bat. I don’t think she’s spoken a true word in her whole life.”
He was confident to the point of cockiness, smug in his grin and seemingly delighted with every blunt word he spoke. A lady is polite, she told herself. It had been her mother’s first rule: politeness could get you anything.
“Iris means well,” she said eventually. A blush crept across her cheeks. “She has been a great help to me.”
“She means well?” He laughed. “Is that the highest praise our dear Sleeping Beauty can muster for her?” He leaned back against the table, hands gripping it on either side. “You are a terrible liar, Aurora. Even that simple one has set your face on fire.”
“I may be a bad liar,” Aurora said, “but I can read people, the same as you. I won our card game yesterday, remember?”
“You did,” he said. “With a little assistance from me. What a team we make.” He pushed himself back to standing. “It has been too long since we were last alone.”
“Since we were last alone?” she echoed.
He nodded. “Summer of 668 by Alyssinia’s reckoning, my eighteenth birthday. One kiss, but you didn’t seem to like it.” He tilted his head. “I hope you find I improve with age.” When she did not reply, he added, “See, you do not even remember. I am hurt, my lady.”
“Well, you know,” Aurora said, “I have kissed so many men. Few stand out.” The words felt dangerous on her tongue, but she would not listen meekly while he taunted her with smiles.
“But were all of them as handsome as I?”
“I do not recall.”
“The cruelty of unrequited love.” He sighed. “I remember you, of course. I had never seen one so beautiful.”
“Are the women so very ugly where you come from?”