“Do the Fae often concern themselves with right and wrong? Surely you don’t have that many scruples, princess?”
“Do you want me to help you or not?” she snaps.
“I’d prefer you to help me. And I’ll add you to the playbill—” When she starts to protest, I say, “You can choose a stage name. We’ll be completely transparent about the casting.”
“I’m not sure your lead will care for that.”
“Candace will either accept it, or she won’t be in my show.”
Sabine thinks about it, and then she looks away. “Fine—but only until Alaric returns. After that, you’ll ask him to remove the ring, and you’ll take me home.”
“Deal,” I say, extending my hand.
Hopefully Alaric is gone for three months at least.
As if she doesn’t fully trust me, Sabine hesitantly takes my hand. We shake, but instead of letting go, I pull her in close. She gasps as she bumps against me, and her free hand flies to my arm. Her fingers curl around my bicep, but I can’t decide whether she wants to pull me closer or shove me away. I’m not sure she knows.
My residual anger fuels my attraction. It’s a push and pull, irritating and likely not healthy. But it’s impossible to ignore.
“What are you doing?” she asks softly.
I study her face, her warm blue eyes framed by dark lashes. “I don’t know. There’s just something about you that calls to me.”
Jabbing me in the stomach, the princess pulls away. “You best learn to block it out.”
I laugh, following her eyes to the bottle of whiskey on the side cabinet.
“You were intoxicated last night,” she says.
I frown at the amber alcohol. “I only drink when I want to remember.”
Sabine walks to the bottle, studying it. “Remember what?”
“A night about five years ago.” I cross my arms, taking her in. “I can still smell the lilacs near the stage.”
She looks at me sharply, her lips parting. “Don’t drink anymore.”
“I don’t need to.” I jerk my head toward her hand. “How is your cut?”
Startled by the change of subject, Sabine glances at the bandage. “It hasn’t healed as it should, but that’s not a surprise.”
“Let me look at it.”
She pulls her hand back. “No.”
“Stop,” I murmur, tugging her wrist and pulling her back.
She doesn’t resist very long, instead choosing to scowl at me. Carefully, I unwind the bandage. It’s awkwardly done, making me think Frederick must have taken care of it himself last night. Sabine looks away once I’ve removed the gauze.
“Well?” she asks, her head turned to the side. “How does it look?”
“The cut is long, but it’s not deep. I doubt you’ll need stitches.” My eyes move to her face, which has lost its color. “Does it hurt?”
“A little.” Her eyes stray to the wound, and then she jerks her head away again. “Every time I accidentally bend my hand, it stings.”
“I’ll take you to a doctor this afternoon,” I tell her. “At least it’s no longer bleeding.”
“Frederick can take me.”