Page 27 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood
“Princess.” He bows. The move makes me tingle. Damn, this man has an effect on me.
“Prince Cassius.” I curtsy in return.
“I’ve been looking for you. I was told you’ve been out in the gardens all afternoon. I thought you may be hungry.” He lifts his arm holding the basket.
“You brought me a picnic?” I can’t shield my smile.
“I’m sure you know of a beautiful spot where we could enjoy it.”
“I can think of plenty. I’ll show you one of my favorites.” Taking Cassius’s hand feels more natural than it should.
I catch the flick of his eyes down to where our palms connect. Harrow sits sullen in the back of my thoughts alongside his abrupt exit. I wonder what happened below. Based on hisreaction, it couldn’t have been good. Cassius came along just in time to provide a distraction.
“Princess Lenore,” Melly calls from the doorway. We haven’t even made it out of the garden.
“Yes?” I answer, not bothering to mask my annoyance at being interrupted.
“Yer late for yer final fitting.”
The ball, right. Another fitting for my garish gown. The fit was perfectly acceptable the last time I tried it on. “Please tell the seamstress I’m currently unavailable.”
Melly’s head whips behind her and she drops into a low curtsy. That can only mean one thing.
My mother strolls through the open door, her gaze meeting mine. I’ve dropped Cassius’s hand and stepped away from him before I register the action.
“There you are, my love. I apologize, Prince Cassius, but the princess is needed inside.” My mother’s words are friendly, but the warning look she gives me tells me that refusing this fitting is not an option.
Disappointment fills me. “Apologies. We will have to enjoy our picnic another day.”
“Name the afternoon and I’ll be there.” He smiles, inclining his head. “There may be a hungry guard or two who are willing to share my feast.”
That makes me chuckle. Imagining Cassius sharing a meal with a guard. “I believe it would be the highlight of their career.”
“You’re right. I’m off to secure a sentry at once!” he shouts with mock enthusiasm. Cassius lifts my hand, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of my fingers. “Please save a dance for me, Princess.”
I’m too flustered to speak. My mother is smirking as I hurry inside. She’s probably not the only one who’s noticed my interest in Cassius. Can anyone blame me? He’s good-lookingin a storybook kind of way. He brought me a picnic. I doubt the King of Honenbrie will ever favor me with such a sweet and thoughtful gesture.
My father’s boisterous voice spills into the hallways as we pass the throne room. I’ve not seen him outside of dinner in weeks. I suspect he’s avoiding me. Maybe the idea of me marrying his oldest friend makes us both uncomfortable.
My mother takes my hand in hers. “Your father cares for you. He has a lot on his plate right now.”
How is it she always knows what I’m thinking and feeling? “I know. Being king keeps him busy.”
Her face saddens a touch. “He loves you very much, Lenore.”
Marrying me off to an old man is an odd way of showing it. “I know,” is all I say. My future is looking pretty bleak. At least I have a waltz with a prince to look forward to.
Chapter 11
Lenore
I’ve been turned into a living fucking tart. The puffy sleeves, button-up collar, and excessive frills of my pastry-pink gown already make my skin itch. At least a dozen ribbons have been braided into my dark hair. My cheeks have been so roughly rouged I look like a pig with heatstroke.
Maybe it’s not the rouge reddening my face. Maybe it’s the lack of air.
My waist is corseted so tightly I can hardly breathe—a feat, I imagine, only possible if my ribs have taken a holiday to another kingdom. The resulting cleavage in the under-collar keyhole is absurd. How am I supposed to dance the night away when I can barely move?
My toes already ache. The dainty pink-and-white heels are too narrow for my wide, “unladylike” feet. Do they really thinkshoving my feet into these for years will somehow change their shape? Can’t they just make wider shoes?
