Page 95 of Slippers and Thorns
The day was the usual wearying grind, not improved by the turmoil in Michael’s mind as he fingered the necklace in his pocket and pondered the bow still leaning against the desk in his sitting room. Voices swirled around him, some making it through the haze of his fatigue, some impacting on the surface and bouncing off. He was fairly certain he caught the important points, but he wouldn’t be surprised if his inattention came back to bite him in a few days.
He probably should have let Justin take some more of the load today.
By the time supper rolled around, he had a pounding headache, his throat hurt from coughing, and he was feeling uncharacteristically antisocial. Thankfully, it wasn’t a family-only meal, so he could get away with skipping it.
Instead of heading straight to his rooms, he settled onto a window seat overlooking the front courtyard. A light dusting of snow covered everything. Shadows stretched across it as the sun set on the other side of the castle. It was peaceful, sitting and watching a slight flurry drop more snow on the grey walls and cobblestones. His head drifted closer to the window until it touched the cold glass. It was so soothing to his aching head.
Michael jerked as his eyes opened. Instead of the setting sun, the courtyard was now lit with torches. The hall around him was shockingly empty. It was never this empty except late at night. Rubbing at the crick in his neck, Michael looked around for a clock. What time was it? Why had no one woken him?
At the moment, he wasn’t sure if that was a perk or a downside to being a prince.
Putting his hands on his knees, he pushed himself to his feet with a slight groan. He found a grandfather clock stuffed between two tapestries just as it began chiming two hours past midnight. “Great,” he moaned. “At least I have a few hours to sleep in my bed.”
He stumbled through the last hall to the royal wing and down to his door. Opening it, he almost fell through, planning to shuffle straight through to his bed without bothering to light a candle. The path to his bedroom didn’t have any furniture in the way to trip over.
But there was already a candle burning on the small table next to his sofa.
“Helena?” His eyes flew wide open as he came fully awake at the sight of the wrong princess curled up in an armchair in his sitting room at two in the morning. “What—what are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you, of course,” she replied, quirking an eyebrow. “Although I expected you a few hours ago. Where on earth have you been?”
“But—why?” he asked uneasily. There was so much opportunity for this to turn out badly. All it would take would be for someone to have seen her sneaking in, and even if he sent her out right now, it would cause irreparable damage.
She slowly stood, her dark purple dinner dress shifting around her. Michael took an instinctive step backwards before he saw the small stack of papers in her outstretched hand. Helena beamed at him. “So you can finally fix our problem. Then maybe your father and my brother will stop getting in our way.” Her mouth twisted into a frown.
Michael reluctantly took the papers and carried them over to the candle so he could read them. It was a document.
“This is paperwork to dissolve my marriage with Arabella,” he said, spinning to face her.
“Of course. What did you expect it to be? All you have to do is sign, and it will be done.” She smiled adoringly. “And then you and I, my true love, can finally be together.”
He carried the document over to his desk and carefully sat down. It sounded so simple. Was so simple. All he had to do was pick up a pen, sign his name, and it would be over. No more trouble with the guard, no more fighting to get something as simple as a kiss.
“Where’d you get this?” Helena asked. She’d started wandering around the room while waiting for him to sign the papers. Surprising, since she’d been waiting for hours before he arrived.
She was standing next to his perfectly-organized bookshelf holding a sheathed dagger. “It doesn’t seem like your style. Unlike that bow over there. I looked it over earlier – I hope you don’t mind – and it’s excellent. I want one just like it.”
No more little gifts – or not so little, in the case of the dagger and bow – left in his extra-clean room.
“Haven’t you signed that yet? Your desk doesn’t look messy enough to be unable to find a pen.”
He fingered the bead necklace in his pocket with one hand while he finally pulled open a drawer and dug out a pen with the other. How did it only require a single signature?
This was Helena. He’d been dreaming about her since they were children. All it would take was a little ink on the paper in front of him.
But…he’d promised Arabella…
Arabella, who had barely looked at him in the last week.
Who had cleaned his room and left him treats anyway. Who had done the same when he was the one pointedly ignoring her a few months ago.
But Helena was offering him what he’d always wanted.
He held the pen over the piece of paper. If he gripped it any tighter, it would break.
Fiery, wild Helena, or sweet, gentle Arabella?
CHAPTER 40
