Page 30 of Slippers and Thorns
Michael nodded in approval. “Very wise.”
“You will notify the king?”
“Yes,” Michael responded, waving a hand dismissively. “You may return to the search.” The guard saluted and walked briskly away.
Michael stewed as he resumed the stroll that the guard had interrupted. Lady Charlotte chattered in his ear, but he didn’t hear any of it. His wife – the princess! – had lowered herself to dress as the servant she once was. Not to cook or clean to occupy her time, but to flee.
To leave him.
He probably should have felt as if his world were crumbling, but he didn’t. He was angry.
How could she do this to him? To the royal family?
Maybe it served him right for marrying a commoner, no matter how pretty or sweet.
Scowling at the bookcase, Michael gave up on a simple visual search and began moving each book to the side as he scanned its title. He was certain he had a copy of it on the shelf in his room, but he couldn’t find it.
If he weren’t religious about putting his own books back on his bookcase when he set them down – even if he didn’t take much care with where – he would think he’d left it somewhere else in the castle.
Of course, if he were a little less angry with his wife, maybe he’d be able to see straight enough to register the words in front of his face.
A knock at the door interrupted him. “Michael? Are you in there?”
“What do you want, Justin?” he growled back. He flipped another book to the side, reminding himself not to take out his aggression on the fragile paper.
Rather than staying outside the door waiting for an invitation, his brother let himself in. “I heard about Arabella,” he answered, his voice unusually serious. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Okay? Not hardly.
“I’m fine, Justin. Get lost.”
Justin crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, watching him with narrowed eyes. “No.”
Michael whirled to face him. “‘No’?” he demanded. “I told you to leave. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
“You’re not okay. Why would I leave?”
“What part of ‘I don’t want to talk to you’ do you not understand?” he snarled. “Get out of my room.”
Instead of complying, the younger prince straightened and strolled over to join him. “Which book are you looking for?”
“Justin—”
“Which book?” Justin repeated, cutting him off.
Running a hand through his hair, Michael sighed, “Gerhardt’sPrinciples of Economic Theory.”
His brother peered at the books for a few moments, then leaned forward and plucked one up. One of the ones Michael had shuffled to the side already.
Holding it out, he said, “You mean this one?”
Michael snatched it out of his hand. “Yes. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
He stomped off to his favorite armchair, ignoring Justin’s bemused smile. “Why are you still here?”
Justin’s slow steps followed him. “I thought perhaps you might like to join me in the training yard for some sword practice.”
