“Through that door,” the prince pointed.

“There’s more?” She tried to consider the length of the hall they’d just traversed and how much could be hidden away behind the other doors.

“A fair bit.” He nodded. Crossing over, he assessed her with his hands on his hips and a wicked little grin between his stubble clad cheeks. “Would you like to see my bed?”

Heat was back on her face, and Vhalla opened and shut her mouth like a fish trying to find air above water. She was in over her head with this man, and there was no hope for escape.

The moment a servant appeared in the doorframe, and Prince Baldair’s eyes were off her, she said a prayer to the Mother.

“My prince?” The man gave a low bow. Vhalla glanced at the rope the prince had pulled.

“I would like lunch for two, please,” Prince Baldair commanded.

“What would you care for?” The servant dared not to even raise his eyes. Vhalla realized how bold she had become before royalty.

“Anything is fine.” The prince waved him away, and the man stepped backward with another bow before disappearing down the hall.

Before Vhalla could voice an objection, the prince had her seated in a plush chair at one end of a long dining table, which seemed perfectly proportioned in its corner of the massive room. He opted for the seat next to her rather than the chair at the other end. Vhalla had never been served before, and she did not know what to say or do as servants began to fill the table around her. Guilt tickled the back of her throat and she bit her lip, avoiding their eyes.

“I know why you were with my brother today,” Prince Baldair said finally when the help had left.

Vhalla stared at him open-mouthed. Food hung off a fork before her.

A rumbling chuckle resonated through his chest at her expression. “There was a letter.”

“What did the letter say?” Vhalla asked cautiously, easing her food back onto its plate. Aldrik had been so adamant that his father shouldn’t know of her. Wasn’t he keeping her magic a secret out of concern?

Noticing how he held the fork and knife, she let herself be distracted. He held a utensil in one hand, index fingers outstretched over their backs. Comparing it to how she was cutting her meat with fork stabbed vertical, fist grip, she felt like a barbarian from the Crescent Continent.

“The clerics reported that the library staff had been integral to saving his life. I could tell you were a smart one from the moment I met you. It was you, wasn’t it, Vhalla?” It was phrased as a question, but Prince Baldair wore a knowing smile.

Vhalla stopped chewing. She had no idea what to say either.

The prince laughed and saved her from herself. “I knew it. Well, that explains it then; even my ass of a brother would need to give some appreciation to someone who helped saved his life. Can’t say I’m surprised it took him so long to humble himself.”

Vhalla folded her hands in her lap over the napkin, the one she had only placed there after the prince had placed one in his lap. The inside of the meat was pinkish, and she wondered if it was safe to eat. Wondering about the food was better than talking to the prince about his brother. She poked one of the many forks, pushing it up the table. Why did anyone need more than one fork?

A low humming noise came from her left, pulling her back from her continual withdrawal. Baldair had placed his elbow on the table, his chin in his palm. He assessed her thoughtfully. She wanted to say something, but Vhalla was fighting a losing battle against the cerulean eyes before her.

“You’re not like most of them, are you?” Prince Baldair’s voice was softer than she had heard it before, the jest and levity absent.

“Most of them?” she repeated, bracing herself for a parrot comment.

“You’re not the first low-born I have invited to lunch.” He leaned back in his chair, food forgotten. “They come in, swoon over my chambers, prattle about the food endlessly, try everything they can to make eyes at me. By the end of it all, they’re belly up and bare on the bed.”

Vhalla gaped at him. This prince was nothing like the other. She stood, her napkin falling to the floor without a thought.

A firm hand closed around her wrist.

“Don’t worry,” the prince cooed softly. “I know you’re not like that, and I would never force a woman into anything she didn’t want and ask for.”

Her arm relaxed as he held her in place. His command over her was different than his brother’s. Where Aldrik could transfix her with a single look, Prince Baldair captured her with gentle words and soft touches.

“What do you want from me then?” Vhalla asked. If he knew she wasn’t about to fall between his sheets then, there was little point of her being there any longer.

“I have an idea.” He finally relinquished her wrist, but Vhalla did not move.

“What is it?” Judging by the look on his face, she may not want to know.

“Even if my father wants my brother’s injury to go unsaid, and Aldrik would never admit to actually needing help, saving the life of the crown prince should not go unrewarded. And a lunch is not nearly a sufficient reward.” The prince smiled. “So tell me, what does your heart desire, my little library apprentice? I am a prince; most anything is within my power to give.”

She brought her hands before her and gripped the pads of her fingers. What did her heart desire? After Sareem, after Aldrik, things didn’t add up in her heart anymore.