Page 35 of Ties of Dust

She frowned, her eyes moving reluctantly to his. What did he mean that shefeltangry?

“Did the conversation with my father distress you?” the prince guessed.

Try as she might, Flora couldn’t keep her spirit at bay completely. “Not at all, Your Highness,” she said pleasantly. “In fact, I enjoy being spoken of as though I’m not in the room.”

Prince Cassius pressed his lips together in a thin line. “My father is not in the habit of considering the feelings of guards and servants. You must understand that as king—”

“I understand perfectly,” said Flora, cutting him off in a fine display of the free speaking he’d encouraged. “And I know of no reason why I would expect His Majesty to consider my feelings in how he spoke of me. He knows nothing of me, after all.”

The prince frowned, still not understanding. “So where is the source of the offense?”

“There is none, Your Highness,” Flora said. “It would be presumptuous of me to claim offense.”

“Flora.” A note had entered the prince’s voice that she hadn’t heard before.

“Yes, Your Highness?” she asked evenly.

“Enough of whatever this is,” he said, his voice stern. “Give me a plain answer.”

“You want a plain answer?”

It had been a long day—no, week—and Flora’s immediate future was uncertain at best. She was tired, she was hungry, her shoulder felt like it was on fire, and the worst of it was that, having no composure left, she couldn’tretreat to privacy. She had to stay within reach of the prince at all times, and somehow do so without falling apart in front of him. She met his eyes, her own full of angry fire.

“To give a plain answer, it was not His Majesty’s words or manner that bothered me. It was yours.”

“Mine?” The prince seemed genuinely startled.

“But it would be out of place for me to complain,” she said tartly. “Given I am nothing but agiftoffered to you by the Siqualians.”

“I only meant—” he tried, but she cut him off yet again.

“I know what you meant,” she said acidly. “But what you said made me sound like some kind of concubine.”

“No one thought that,” the prince protested, unfolding his arms and pushing off from the door.

“But they will,” she said. “You know they will, and you also know that there’s nothing either you or I can do to stop it.”

Prince Cassius didn’t answer, which was as good as an acknowledgment as far as Flora was concerned.

“I’m here because I was forced to accompany you through the completely illegal exercise of compulsion magic by a member of your delegation. I came unresisting because I didn’t wish to cause Princess Miriam or Prince Theodore distress when they were powerless to prevent my captivity.”

She saw that the wordcaptivitystartled the prince, but she didn’t back down. That was what it was, plain and simple.

“My consideration shouldn’t be confused for acquiescence. I wish to promote peace on the Peninsula, and to that end I am committed to your protection. But I’m not your servant, and I’m not in the employ of your king.”

She paused for a moment, trying to control her breathing. It would serve no one for her to truly lose her temper.

“I know this situation isn’t of your choosing, either, Your Highness,” she said. “I don’t blame you for it. But given we’re both to be subjected to the inconvenience of me being often in the room when I shouldn’t be, I would be grateful if you tried to limit the indignity I must suffer in being used by you as a prop to manipulate your father.”

The prince stared at her for a long moment. The silence was so loaded that Flora began to doubt herself. He’d said to speak freely, but he likely hadn’t meantthatfreely. She was debating whether she should have continued playing the role of a dutiful guard—whether she could still reclaim that role if she wound back her words quickly enough—when the prince started into motion.

He walked toward her with deliberate steps. The receiving room was spacious, but somehow he filled it. When he stopped, Flora found herself looking up into his face, the distance between them small enough that she couldn’t have raised a hand without brushing the brocaded fabric of his jacket.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice lower than usual, and his tone more intense. “You are not a servant, and you are certainly no one’s concubine. I apologize for causing you embarrassment.”

Flora swallowed. His apology had taken her completely by surprise, and she could think of no response. Not that he was waiting for one.

“I’m wise enough to know that I can’t stop the rumor mill,” he went on. “But if anyone offers you insult, you may be assured they will have to deal with me.”

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