Page 70 of Slippers and Thorns
The stairs seemed much longer on the way back down, even though she was no longer fighting the strain in her thighs and the burn in her lungs from running up them. Charlie was silent behind her, the soles of his leather boots on the stone steps nearly soundless as well.
It was a short trip to the library, but she had almost decided to recant and head for her quarters when the door to a salon opened just down the hall. Her husband walked backwards through the open doorway, one arm held up in front of him.
“You’re doing wonderfully!” he praised. As he moved farther into the hallway, his upraised hand passed into view. A slender light-brown hand was gripped in his. “You’ll be accustomed to your new height in no time.”
To no one’s surprise, when the owner of the hand cleared the doorway, she proved to be the chestnut-haired princess. Her green eyes, glowing with admiration, were fixed firmly on Michael’s face.
“All thanks to your dedicated assistance,” she assured him sweetly. Ella felt inclined to gag. “I’d be lost without you, Michael.”
As Michael tucked her hand back into his elbow, he drew his gaze from Helena and realized they had an audience. “Ella!” he exclaimed, his brows raised in surprise. “Where have you been?” His eyes narrowed as he took in her silent companion. “What are you doing withhim?”
Ella drew herself up. Despite her intentions, her voice was cold as she replied. “I’m astonished you noticed. You certainly didn’t seem to remember I was in the room once you set eyes onher.” She barely restrained a sneer as she copied his emphasis. “Charlie sought me out at my maid’s request. He kindly agreed to walk with me to the library since I lacked a more appropriate escort.”
Michael looked as taken aback as Ella felt by her boldness. Helena merely sniffed and looked down her nose at Ella. “And who are you, to address the prince in such a way?”
Patting her hand, Michael leaned over and murmured, “It’s fine.” Then louder, “Helena, this is Arabella and the head of her guard, Charles. Arabella, Charles, this is Princess Helena of Ralnor.”
Charlie bowed stiffly. “It is my pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.” Turning to Ella, he asked, “Would you still like me to deliver you to the library, or shall I allow the prince to take my place? I could escort the princess to her desired destination.”
“I prefer to stay with Michael, thank you,” Helena loftily inserted. She added her other hand to Michael’s arm, clinging to it possessively. “I suppose Arabella could join us if she wishes.”
Ella pushed down her anger; it was unlikely to do any good. “Thank you for the kind offer, but I believe I have lost my interest in the library for the evening. If you will excuse me, I will retire for the night.” She turned from the arrogant princess and addressed her guard. “Charlie, you may return to your normal duties. I would ask you to walk with me, but,” she shot Michael a pointed glance, “I would not want anyone to get the wrong idea.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Charlie acknowledged with a respectful nod. After a quick bow to Michael, he strode away from them down the hall.
“Shall we go, Michael?” Helena prodded. She brushed an imaginary speck of dust off his sleeve. “It was nice to meet you, Arabella.”
“Likewise, I’m sure.”
“Are you okay, Ella?” Michael asked.
She painted on a tight smile. “Fine. Just a little tired.”
He eyed her uncertainly. “If you say so. I’ll be there in a little while – do you need me to find Jacqueline and send her to help you?”
Helena’s jaw dropped. “Michael, she’s heading tobed. Why would you follow her there?”
Apparently, he hadn’t told her. Ella didn’t feel like being the one to enlighten her, so she simply cocked an eyebrow at Michael and waited to see what he would do.
Running his free hand through his hair, Michael swallowed. “Helena, I thought you—I mean, I didn’t say—because Ella is my wife,” he finally spit out.
“Yourwife?” she exclaimed disbelievingly. Her hands jerked from his arm like they had been burned.
“For the last two-and-a-half years,” Ella coolly added. She crossed her arms and raised a challenging eyebrow. Normally, she wouldn’t consider herself very confrontational, but she could summon up this much courage.
“But—but that’s—how could you marry her?” Helena stammered angrily, sending a glare Michael’s way. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“I thought you were dead,” Michael pled. Why was he pleading? “Why wouldn’t I marry someone else?”
“But I’m your true love!” she protested.
“Obviously not,” Ella cut in tartly.
The Ralnoran princess stomped one foot like a small child. “No! My mother said a kiss from my true love was required to break the sleeping curse. He woke me up; that means he’s my true love.”
Ella and Michael both froze in shock. Ella could feel the blood draining from her face as all rational thought likewise drained from her head. Was it true?
Did Michael’s ability to break the curse mean that he and Helena were each other’s true love?
