I jumped up to find Evander striding into my room as if it were his own, the nervous Imogen eyeing him from behind as her fingers jittered together.

“I’m tired,” I said, as blandly as I could manage.

“That’s because you’ve been sleeping while the sun is out. Last I checked, humans aren’t supposed to be nocturnal.”

“Yeah, well, humans aren’t supposed to be lowered into a pit of myrmecoleon either, so I’ll take my chances with the napping, thank you.”

At that, Evander’s faux outrage broke with a betraying smile that gaped between his top and bottom teeth. He ran his hand over his mouth, as if to cover it up, and I couldn’t help myself. I found my mouth curving too.

“Ellie. Will you please have dinner with me?” His eyes sparkled, and the voice that came from his mouth sounded so unfamiliarly earnest, I almost had the inclination to search the room for where it had come from.

“You’re not demanding?”

He shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets. “No, you seem to dislike that, so I’m trying another tactic. Asking. Desperately, really.”

That broke me. I laughed. The hesitant type, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

My laughter must have been fodder to this strange being, because he pointed to Imogen and said, “Seriously, Ellie. I sent Imogen up here to ask you because I was too nervous to come up here myself. Imagine my disappointment when she told me you’d chosen sleep over my company.”

“I can’t imagine that was how she worded it.” I glanced over at Imogen, whose wan face had gone scarlet. “It’s alright, Imogen. You did the best you could. It’s not your fault he’s incessant.”

This only intensified the blush on her face, and her eyes flitted nervously to the prince.

The prince didn’t seem to notice, though. He was too busy grinning. He clapped his hands together. “Now that that’s settled, I’ll meet you down at my dining quarters in an hour. I’d say we meet sooner, but I imagine you’d rather not trek through the castle in your nightie. Though I can’t say I’d complain.”

“How thoughtful of you,” I said, waving him away. He strode out of the room and passed Imogen, who seemed to let out a long-held breath once he was gone.

Imogen was quiet as she fixed my makeup and hair. She wasn’t as naturally talented as Blaise, but she was fairly proficient at making me look like someone who could potentially be a princess, and I was impressed. But she was still eerily silent—more jittery than normal—and it bothered me.

“Are you okay? You’re quiet tonight,” I said, looking up at her through her reflection in the mirror as she braided a vine of blue wisteria into my curls.

“Yes, my lady,” Imogen shot back in a tone a little too high to be genuine. Rather, it sounded as if she was trying to force the melancholy from her voice.

“Are you sure? You seem upset. Are you ill?”

“Perhaps I am coming down with something,” she said, clearing her throat.

I frowned, the looks of which Imogen seemed to be avoiding as she focused keenly on my hair.

“Was the prince unkind to you when I sent my refusal?” I asked.

Imogen’s eyes flickered up to meet mine, and she bit her lip. “I’d rather not discuss it.”

This set my stomach roiling. “You can tell me anything, you know. I know I’m not technically royalty. But I’ll do what I can to protect you. Even if it is just sharing a secret. If something happened…”

“Nothing happened,” she snapped, her eyes going red as she blinked voraciously.

“Very well,” I said, biting my tongue.

We didn’t speak again until she led me to the prince’s quarters.

CHAPTER 21

ELLIE

I expected Evander’s style in decor to be lavish with a dash of excess.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Actually, Evander’s quarters were far from extravagant, which surprised me. Given his reputation with women, I had expected his dining room to be dripping with wealth. After all, wasn’t dinner where seduction usually began? Although now that I considered it, I wasn’t sure that Evander had to use dates in his arsenal of tactics. The thought irritated me, and between that unpleasant realization and my concern over what had transpired when Imogen had gone to tell Evander of my refusal, I found myself in quite the ill mood by the time Imogen escorted me to the dining room.

The walls were a subdued sage green. The dining table was carved not of ivory, but ivory-painted wood. Its carving was intricate and fine, of course. But it was what I would have expected to see in a nobleman’s dining room, not a prince’s.

Simple but elegant clay plates lined the table, a pleasing aesthetic that was actually quite tasteful. Some might even say modern.

Huh.

Imogen escorted me to my seat, and I stood behind the chair waiting for the prince.

He arrived not a moment later, waving a hand at me. “Oh, you don’t have to bother with those formalities. They’re all cumbersome in their own way, and a waste of time.”

“Like having to say Prince Evander?” I asked, calling back to his comment just before our Trials.

“So many syllables,” he agreed.

I sat and he joined me, though Imogen stood just behind me, hovering like a twitching shadow cast by a dying flame. My stomach twisted, reminding me of how uncomfortable she might be if Evander had been unkind, or worse, to her earlier.

“You don’t have to stay, Imogen,” I said, smiling gently. “You deserve the evening off, anyway.”

Imogen blinked and shot a nervous glance in the prince’s direction. Then she leaned over and whispered in my ear. “But it’s improper.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, trying to be reassuring. Though I wasn’t convinced Evander hadn’t done something to deserve Imogen’s nervous behavior, I also figured her timid nature and position of employment gave him greater power over her than it did me.

“But—”

“You have the evening off. Go spend it in town, or on something fun,” Evander offered.

Imogen gulped, but she nodded and scampered off.

When I turned back to the prince, he was eyeing me mischievously. “You wanted to be alone with me, didn’t you?”

“Not particularly. I simply didn’t want Imogen to have to suffer in your presence.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What? Imogen? Suffer? I think she rather enjoys my company.”

Something twisted in my gut, and as I unraveled my napkin, my silverware crashed against the table. “Not every woman desires your advances, you know. To assume such… It doesn’t give you the right to…” I stumbled over my words, too angry to form coherent sentences.

He narrowed his brow, a look of genuine concern spreading across his face. “To do what?”