She glanced to my back and I could not merit (but there it was, right in her expression) the slight softening of her features before she looked again at me.
“A week, I think,” she murmured pensively. “And then we’ll see what the physician says.”
“With respect, your grace, I’m aware of what I’m capable of in this condition or any,” I stated, avoiding Noc’s eyes.
A Noc, I will note, who was leaning negligently against the wall beyond the nightstand, arms crossed on his chest, foot crossed at the ankle, regarding this like it was an enthralling melodrama.
“I can imagine even you, Franka, would admit that a physician is far more capable of making that judgment than you,” Queen Aurora replied.
I could not argue that.
Therefore, I didn’t.
“You’ve consumed your willow tea?” she asked, like a strict but concerned nanny.
Yes.
The queen speaking to me like a strict but concerned nanny.
Me!
“I have, my queen,” I muttered.
“Excellent. I believe I’ll give you the day. Tomorrow is the wedding, the perfect time for you to rest and mend uninterrupted. The eve after that, I’ll dine with you. Myself and Finnie, and, of course, The Drakkar.”
I wanted to dine with the queen, her other-world daughter and her son-in-law, a cousin who hated me, like I wanted someone to stick knitting needles in my eyes.
But did one refuse a queen?
No.
One did not.
“It would be my most fervent wish, your grace,” I replied, my voice betraying it was what it was, absolutely the opposite.
“And Noc as well, I’m sure,” Queen Aurora went on.
I ground my teeth and glanced to Noc.
He was again grinning.
“I’ll be there,” he assured.
“Lovely, I’ll check in on you later. Rest, Franka,” the queen ordered.
“As you wish, my queen.” I had no choice but to agree.
With a short nod, she turned, and with no further ado, swept out of the room.
I frowned at the door.
Noc pushed away from the wall and moved to fill the space the queen had been occupying by my bed.
“I’m thinkin’ that’s that,” he noted, his lips still curled up.
“As I’ve been ordered to rest by our sovereign, perhaps you’ll leave me so I can do just that,” I suggested tetchily.
He shrugged. “Sure.”
“My gratitude,” I bit out.
“Be back to have lunch with you, though.”
Really.
I might have lived a life of malice and intrigue, but surely all I’d done hadn’t earned me this.
“I can’t wait,” I gritted.
“Bet you can’t,” he murmured, his voice shaking with mirth.
I lifted my brows. “You were leaving?”
“Right,” he replied, but did not move.
“The sooner you do that, the sooner I can rest and mend,” I prompted.
“Fuck, don’t know if you’re more cute than you are funny or the other way around.”
“Just so you’re aware, I take neither as a compliment,” I shared.
He burst out laughing, the sound filling the room and warming it better than the biggest, most blazing fire could achieve.
I decided my best course of action from that point was silence.
When his hilarity calmed, he decreed, “Right now, funnier than you are cute. But just barely.”
I simply stared up at him blankly.
His expression changed to serious. “You’re in pain, you say. Josette or someone will be close. We’ll get you more of that tea.”
I remained silent.
“Doc’s comin’ later,” he told me.
I tipped my head the best I could as it was resting on my arms.
“You good, sweetheart?” he asked gently.
I was not.
“Fine,” I bit out.
That got another curl of his lips.
“Right then, Frannie. See you later.”
Stop calling me that appalling name! my mind screamed.
My mouth said nothing.
I should have said something. I should have even screamed my thoughts at him.
But since I didn’t, he was open to shift closer and bend so near he was able to brush his lips at my temple at the same time he swept the hair from my neck.
“Rest good,” he whispered in my ear.
I fought new warmth in my belly, tilted my eyes to catch his as he moved away and attempted yet again to scorch him with a glare.
It glanced off him as his lips quirked, he turned and I watched his arse in another, more faded-blue pair of his attractive other-world trousers.
When he disappeared beyond the door, I tilted my eyes so far to the side, I could see the ceiling.
“If I promise to be the soul of charitability and kindness, will you release me of my torment?” I asked the gods, any of them, I didn’t care which one was listening.
“What’s that, Lady Franka?” Josette called.
“Nothing,” I muttered, foiled at every turn, including the fact I knew my maid was sitting by the fire in one of the armchairs in my room, mending some of my clothing, thus she would hear I was reduced to verbally begging the gods for a reprieve.
Oh, but it was so much easier when no one cared a whit. It’d only been hours when they did and I already knew that as a certainty.
I sighed.
I stared at the pillow.
I considered making more promises to the gods (but silently).
My mind wandered to Noc’s arse in his trousers.
And thus, unbeknownst to me, I fell asleep with a curl on my lips.
* * * * *
I woke suddenly, feeling strange.