“Your leg is doing quite well,” Severin said, fiddling with the cuffs of his waistcoat and ignoring Jock. “I will see you after you are… dressed.”
Elle seated herself on her bed with the presence of a queen. “Yes.”
Severin’s fangs flashed when he smiled. “Until then. I trust a squirrel will not attack you in my absence,” he said, escaping the room before Elle could reply.
“That man. Emele, where are you? I request aid with dressing,” Elle shouted.
After enduring a morning and afternoon of squirrel related mockery from Severin, Elle stared at her wardrobe with narrowed eyes.
Something wrong, Elle? Emele wrote.
Elle started unwinding the bandage Duval had swaddled her hand in. “Not particularly.”
Aggravated by His Highness?
“Yes,” Elle woodenly said, admiring her less than impressive wound from her battle with the squirrel. “For all that I bled you think this bite mark would be bigger.”
Emele placed her hand on top of Elle’s and pushed it down so Elle looked up at her. If you wish to get back at His Highness I have the perfect thing.
“What is it?”
A dress.
“A dress? How is a dress going to silence him?”
Just wait and see. Come. We will dress you for war.
Elle doubted the success of Emele’s promise, but after she swept into the dining room she held the ladies maid in higher esteem.
Severin had his chin resting on a hand and was drumming the table with his free hand when Elle made her entrance. Severin saw her and froze. His hand slid out from under his chin and dropped to the table like a wet noodle. He stood, his amber eyes popping as Elle walked to her chair.
Emele’s selection was a dress made with the rose red brocade that had caused such a stir among the female servants at Elle’s dress fitting. It was an elegant creation that was fancier than any of her other dresses. It was adorned with cloth folded and bunched to resemble roses and the skirt was layered, giving it the appearance of flower petals. During the dress fitting Elle didn’t understand why everyone fawned over the material. Now, armed with the knowledge that Severin was smitten for all things green and growing and that his servants were cunning to the highest degree, Elle suspected Severin’s favorite flower was the classic rose.
Judging by his stunned expression, Elle was right.
For the triumphant occasion Emele had pinned Elle’s hair to the side of her head so her black hair hung over one shoulder. Several cloth roses were pinned into Elle’s hair, continuing the flower theme.
Elle sat down after a footman pulled out a chair for her, smiling when she saw that Severin still wore a shocked look.
Severin recovered, fixing his feline face in an unreadable expression. “You look lovely,” he said as he sat down.
“Thank you,” Elle smiled mischievously.
“I’m curious to know how Emele talked you into allowing such a formal dress.”
“She didn’t exactly give me a choice. The day they selected color swatches was the only day I interacted with your seamstress. I did not know they were making such a dress until one day it mysteriously appeared in my wardrobe.”
“It suits you,” Severin said, his eyes glittering. His voice was warm with affection, and serious in its every tone.
Elle’s smile slipped from her lips at Severin’s sincerity. “Thank you,” she said, holding his gaze.
The moment was broken when the servants placed platters on the table, unable to delay serving Severin and Elle any longer.
Elle started her dinner with a selection of pineapple—she had become fond of the tasty fruit. “I am surprised, I thought you would surely inquire after my battle scar,” Elle wryly said.
“Hm?” Severin said, blinking.
“My squirrel bite?”
“Normally I would not hesitate to discuss the particulars of your wound, but I was going to allow my illegitimate, if not good, breeding to prevail this once and let the topic remain untouched.”
“I find your sudden change in heart unlikely,” Elle said.
“Oh?”
“You spent the afternoon offering me nuts.”
“I was being considerate that you may have experienced a change in tastes after being bitten. Haven’t you heard of werewolves?”
“An angry squirrel is hardly a werewolf.”
“One never knows. Magic is growing unruly.”
“We did see a mountain hag just days after the first snowfall,” Elle said, some of the laughter and outrage draining from her voice.
Severin ate a slice of venison. “Yes. I am no wizard, but I have noticed a change in magic. It’s barely perceivable, but…”
“But that may change soon,” Elle said.
“Yes.”
The pair was silent for a few moments as Elle thoughtfully stared at Severin. Her heart squeezed painfully as she watched him nod in thanks to a servant who refilled his wine cup. Soon she would have to leave. Soon she would need to break Severin’s curse.
The prince looked up. “What?”
“Pardon?”
“You are staring at me.”
“Well… I was just thinking,” Elle said.
