Ella turned her chin over her shoulder, soaking in the cuteness that was Henry before he awoke. No doubt Drizella would drool over pictures of him with no shirt on, tousled hair, and sprawled out on the rumpled sheets, full lips extra puffy from rest.
“Go back to sleep,” she whispered, and Henry was just drowsy enough to comply without too much more of a fight.
She sniggered at his cuteness, and then changed into her jeans and flannel, blowing her nose and rubbing out an ache in her chest. If this was to be her new home, as Remus suggested, she wouldn’t make him regret his kindness.
She found her morning cold medicine, and prayed it would hold as she filled a bucket with cleaning solution and water. Her stomach was roaring, but she knew that at least a few chores should be done before anything else. Dusting, polishing the long oak table, and then thoroughly sweeping the dining room took only twenty minutes, but washing the floor took longer, drawing out her cough as the harsh chemicals coupled with the polishing done on her hands and knees. She felt far more tired than she usually did this early in the day.
“What are you doing?” came Remus’ agitated voice from behind her.
Ella leaned back to sit on her heels, mopping the sweat from her brow. “I don’t know what your regular routine for chores is, but I figured you can’t go wrong starting in the dining room. That seems to get a fair amount of use.”
Remus swore, and then bent to draw her up, a horrified grimace pulling at his usually composed features. He sat her down on a chair and pried the rag from her fingers. “I didn’t bring you here to clean my house. You’re my guest, not my housekeeper. I already have one of those, and I can’t imagine she’d be willing to forfeit the job she’s had for ten years.”
Ella’s lips pursed as she mulled over several responses, wishing she could just finish the job already. “I’m not lazy,” she countered, her knees half a foot from his when he turned a chair so he could sit and face her stubborn expression.
“I’m not sure where you’d assume I might draw that conclusion. This has nothing to do with being lazy. It has to do with you punishing yourself for who knows what, or trying to earn a space here that’s been freely given.”
Ella studied him with caution. “I’m not sure what my role here is. I mean, if I don’t work for you, then what are you getting out of the deal? How is that fair to you? I don’t want to be a taker.”
Remus took in her red nose and the pink around her eyelids, leaning his elbow on the table with a compassionate sigh. “Darling, in what world do you imagine yourself a taker? Sometimes it’s my turn to accept help, while others it’s my turn to give it. What do I get out of having you here? Friendship, for one. Also, there’s the matter of my rabid fascination with the unknown. Our tutoring sessions are every bit the education for me as they are for you. I live for that. I would pay for that. The fact that you’ll be here every day only expedites any progress we’re trying to make.”
Ella pulled a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose for the eleventh time that morning. Then she rubbed her temples to alleviate the tension that only seemed to build the longer she was awake. “All that sounds fine, but I’m not ungrateful. Please let me help out.”
“‘Help out’ means picking up after yourself, not everyone in the house. Back to bed with you, darling. The doctor said you’re a breath away from pneumonia, and housework won’t help with that. Today is for rest. Tomorrow we can think about starting up our lessons again.”
She couldn’t stifle the lost look in her eyes. “What am I going to tell Lady Tremaine? This is going to go south real fast.”
“You’re not going to tell her anything when you’re this ill. A stiff breeze could knock you over at this point, and that woman is a hurricane. You’re not in any shape for the battle it’s going to be when you openly defy her.” At Ella’s sharp intake of breath and the panic welling in her eyes, Remus held up his hands. “Which isn’t something we’re going to worry about today. For all she knows, you’re merely staying here to clean my house for your usual four days. There’s no need to add stress to our lives prematurely. Rest today, plan tomorrow.”
Ella’s one-track mind wasn’t easily derailed, but after a few more back-and-forths, she consented to going back to bed if she could finish the floor. “It’ll be uneven if I don’t finish. Then it’s like I didn’t do anything helpful!”
Remus sighed, but handed over the rag with a resigned look that she was who she was, and it wouldn’t be an easy road deprogramming her.
When Ella went back upstairs, she showered and then slipped back into her pajamas, feeling scandalous that her grand plan was to sleep the day away. She shivered in her clean flannel and shorts, but her limbs calmed when, in sleep, Henry reached for her, warming her body with his. She melted in his arms, allowing the guilt to slide out of her mind so she could rest contentedly with the man who seemed to crave her presence every bit as much as she desired his.
31
A Word from the King
An hour of dozing was brought to a halt by Henry’s phone ringing on his bedside. He groaned and rolled over, answering it without opening his eyes. “Hallo?” He tugged Ella to curl around his body, his arm under her head, and her hand atop his chest. “Yes, Dad. I’ve got it noted in my schedule. I’ll be at Remus’ for a few days, so I won’t see you for a bit. I know, I know, you’ll miss me terribly. I don’t blame you; I’m quite adorable.”
Ella loved the way his chest vibrated when he chuckled. She stroked the space over his heart, wondering if there was any better place in the world than this bed, in Henry’s arms.
“Now, now. Don’t say, ‘That’s fine, Son.’ I want to hear your anguished cries at not being able to see my handsome mug for several days.” He paused, and Ella giggled silently that King Hubert himself indulged his son in a few dramatic sobs, begging him to come home that instant. “That’s much better. Next time, if you could work in the phrase, ‘Henry, you’re the light of my life,’ that would also be acceptable.”
When the king started going over details for the upcoming royal ball, Henry’s smile faded as his eyes opened, his mind kicking into full gear. “I told you, I don’t want the charade of a ball. The whole thing is barbaric and unnecessary.”
King Hubert’s voice left no room for arguing. “The kingdom has gone through too much, what with Malaura finally being killed, and now this whole Lethal vote coming up. The fact that she was queen before me makes everyone wary of anyone in power—no matter how tight of a job I’m doing. The people need something fun to distract them from the fact that no one can agree on anything. It seems the only thing the majority agrees on is the one thing I won’t give them.”
Henry groaned. “Don’t tell me there are still people on the council who are insisting on installing the Lupine trackers. We voted that down last year.”
“The Baron’s trying to go over Stefan’s head, insisting it shouldn’t be a matter for the council to decide, since the Lupine aren’t technically citizens.”
“Whatever you need me for, count me in. Unless, of course, you want me to actually attend this ball where I’m to be auctioned off.”
“It’s hardly that dramatic. You’ll merely select someone to spend some time with. If it doesn’t work out between you and your date, then we can revisit the idea of auctioning you off. Might be able to slash the budget considerably if we did that.”
“Hysterical. I’m simply rolling on the floor over here. What if I told you I was seeing someone? It’s serious, too.”
Ella picked out the king’s measured reply. “I was wondering when you would tell me.”
“You knew?”
“Perhaps it’s time you were introduced to women who aren’t so…” She could tell he was sensoring himself, fishing around for the right words but coming up empty.
Ella’s stomach churned with sudden anxiety at the king’s obvious disapproval.
Henry shifted, his brows pushing together. “Are you implying something, Dad? Do yo
u know more about my love life than I do? Who do you imagine I’m spending my nights with? Remus is sexy, but he’s hardly my type.”
“Hilarious. It’s not a secret if I’m seeing photos of you with that girl on Royal Watch. I do wish you’d confided in me first. That girl is… Well, she’s not who I would’ve chosen for you. Though, kudos to you on picking her up from her house. I know what a serious gesture that is for you.”
Henry sat up in the bed, taking the call away from Ella, who shrank under the covers. She’d been so content and peaceful mere minutes ago, but now she was awash in shame, wondering when it was that she’d allowed herself to entertain fantasies that anything could ever work out between her and Henry. The king hadn’t even met her and he already knew what she understood to be glaringly obvious—that Prince Henry could do lightyears better than her. She knew it was childish, but she pulled the comforter over her head, hiding from the world so she could be alone to wallow in her rejection.
When Henry came back into the bedroom fresh from his phone call, a shower and getting dressed for the day, he sat on the edge of the bed, feeling around for her knee to give her a little squeeze. “Any chance you didn’t hear a lick of that?”
Ella’s voice was small under the covers. “Your father hates me. The King of Avondale knows I’m not good enough for his son. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time.”
“He’s never even met you. I don’t know what his deal is. He’s rarely so sharp with his opinions. Apparently there was some photo of us on Royal Watch, but our press agent had it taken down before I could see what got him all worked up. Who could’ve taken our picture?”
Ella bit down on her lip to keep her heartbreak tucked away. “Let’s just hope not too many people saw you with me. It won’t do well for your reputation.”
Henry ripped the covers off her in a burst of temper, his brows squeezed together in consternation as he stared down at Ella, who squeaked at being suddenly revealed. “Do you think I care about any of that? I’d take a picture right now and post it myself, if you’d let me. I’m upset because my dad’s acting out of character, and you made it clear you wanted things private, which now might not be the case. I’m trying to do everything I can not to spook you, so you don’t disappear on me. It took me an entire week to get your first name out of you! Don’t you know that I understand you? I see that this whole thing scares you. I just need to know how much.”
Ella sat up against the headboard, holding her flannel tighter around her as she shivered. “I don’t know,” she admitted, feeling lost.
Henry took pity on her chill and covered her lap with the comforter. Then he went to his dresser and pulled out his gray sweatshirt, threading her arms through it and zipping her up. He sat down on the bed facing her and gathered up her hands in his, kissing her knuckles as if they were the soft, untarnished skin she wished she had. “Ella, my life is public. My first haircut was televised. The girl I first kissed was interviewed the next day by dozens of gossip sites, all of which concluded I was a terrible kisser.”
Ella’s face pulled into a look of horror. “Are you serious?”
Henry pressed her knuckles to his cheek to warm them. “You guard your privacy, and that’s your right. However, if you’re to date me publicly, nothing will be private again. I need to know that if I make a stand for us, you’ll be by my side. I couldn’t take it if I made an announcement that I’d finally, finally found someone incredible, too many cameras flashed, and you vanished on me.”
“Why would they need to know about me?” Her wary expression gave away that she hadn’t considered this all that thoroughly before. She’d seen it all through the lens of government officials trying to snatch at her and control her for her abilities—not gossip sites clambering to know if Henry was a good kisser.
“Because no one’s ever captivated me the way you have. They’ll be obsessed.” He held her hands between them, looking down at her fingers with palpable sadness in his eyes. His voice was quiet with the urgency of a plea when he spoke again, his chin lowered. “I would give you everything you could possibly ask for. I would move whole kingdoms for you. Always and only you. But this one thing—privacy—I can’t grant you. So I need to know now if that’s a hard stop for you.”
Ella’s arms felt weak, and her whole body ached as she withdrew so she could cough into her sleeve. This wasn’t the way she’d imagined she would fall in love, but there it was, her heart beating in his open hands. Soon all the world would see her exposed organ for the vulnerable mess it was. “I might say the wrong thing.”
Henry’s head shot up, swelling with elation that she hadn’t immediately called the whole thing off. “Then you won’t have done anything I haven’t. And you don’t have to say anything. You can ‘no comment’ everyone until you’re blue in the face for the next sixty-five years.”
Ella’s intake of breath was followed by a stream of hacking into her sleeve. When her lungs finally settled, her eyes locked in on his, wide and filled with disbelief. “Sixty-five years?”
Henry shrank from her shock for only a second, and then leaned forward with a determined look. “Yes. And if that scares you, then I need to know how badly. I’m not in this for a casual date every now and then. I’m in it for the next sixty-five years.”
Ella tugged a tissue from the box on the nightstand and blew her nose. “You can’t say things like that to me when I’m sick and pathetic like this!”
Henry chuckled at her frustration and handed her another tissue. “I don’t need an answer now, and I’m not officially asking until I’ve got a ring, a flock of doves, a string quartet and the whole nine yards. And clowns. Proposals are supposed to have clowns, right?”
“Naturally. I won’t say yes without a slew of clowns.”
“I figured.”
Ella shook her head at him, a small smile playing on her lips. “Now I’m hurt. You only want me for the next sixty-five years? What happens after that? Planning on leaving me already?”
Though Henry was dressed for the day, he moved to sit next to her under the covers, tucking her slight body under his arm. “I figure you’ll start to grow tired of my jokes by then.”
“Never,” Ella promised. In that simple exchange, Ella knew that whatever frustrations and complications might come their way, at the end of the day, and at the end of sixty-five years, it would all be worth it if Henry was by her side. “Okay, then. Yes.”
“Yes?” Henry shot off the bed as if it was suddenly laden with an electric current. His eyes were wide with disbelief, and he held up his hands as if to tell her she should be cautious when pulling his leg or tugging on his heartstrings. “Are you having a laugh? Is this real?”
Ella raised her finger to pause his quickly inflating glee. “Yes to going public, but give me like, a solid month to work up to it, okay? I can’t go back to Lady Tremaine, so it’s all about to hit the fan anyway. It’s time. And the sixty-five years part? Let’s give that a minute to digest.”
“Finally! What tipped it?”
Ella held his gaze, muscling through to reveal a little of her raw underbelly to him. “When the Baron felt me up yesterday, Lady Tremaine looked the other way.”
Henry stilled as the best news and the worst news warred for which would get top billing on his face. “The Baron touched you?”
“I shoved him away, but yeah. I can’t go back there. Weighing a possible government-sanctioned lobotomy against the Baron’s boney fingers on my body? I’ll take my chances.”
They were quiet for several seconds as the waves of elation and agony rippled through the room. Neither of them spoke until the tension settled enough for them to feel their connection more than the oceans of trouble that threatened to rock them both.
Henry ran his hands through his hair, his eyes darting from side to side as he processed that the person he’d been chasing after was finally slowing down enough for him to catch. Then he scrambled back to the bed, kneeling beside her and scooping her
face in both his hands, so he could feel the dream and be sure she was real.
The kiss wasn’t gentle, but neither of them needed it to be. Their lips crashed in a frenzy of elation as they finally were able to keep close what had always seemed so very far away.
32
The Bigger Picture
“Again. I’m not sure you’re concentrating.”
Ella bit her tongue to keep any sass locked inside. Her brain felt like it was seeing the world through a foggy mist, taking longer to process everything. “I’m sorry. It’s the cold medicine. I’m not used to it.”
Cordray turned a full circle in the swivel chair that he’d rolled to the side of the study to avoid Remus’ agitation. Though Remus was never out-and-out harsh, he didn’t hesitate to push when necessary. “Honestly, Remus. The poor girl’s clearly sick. She’s doing her best. Ella, the next time you sneeze, aim it in his direction so he catches your virus, and we can say condescending things to him while he muddles through.”
Ella sniggered but that led to a coughing fit, during which she was pretty sure she actually did spread germs in his direction. “No, no. Remus is right. I’m not concentrating. We have to figure out what to say to Lady Tremaine tomorrow, and I’m in knots about it.”
Remus leaned back on his desk, and then pressed his hands behind him to lift himself up to sit on the sleek top. His gray slacks and light green dress shirt were perfectly pressed, even though he’d worked nine hours that day at the Johnstone Foundation. He sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Cord is right. I’m off-center. I was hoping to be further along than this, but it seems your cold is affecting your magic.”
Ella shook her head. “It’s not my cold. I could still hear through walls and whatnot when I was starting to get sick. It’s the cold medicine.”
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