Chapter 106: Cold Dinner
She couldn’t deny that her body jolted every ti his hands grazed her thighs.
Claire could’ve told him to stop, but she didn’t want to.
The thought that the night didn’t an as much to him as it did to her made tears burn behind her eyes.
But she couldn’t let him see her cry.
He stood and went back to the basin for another dip. She followed him with her gaze, noting the rigid set of his shoulders.
He was angry? Angry at what?
He ca back and resud his ministrations, never eting her gaze.
His knuckles brushed a sensitive place and she jerked.
He glanced up at her. There was a slight flicker of mischief in his eyes before it disappeared. She could have imagined it.
When he was done, he pulled her legs together and fastened the robe over. The slight brush of his fingers on her bare skin made her want to do sothing wild.
"You should eat. The food is getting cold."
Yeren returned to the basin. He stood there for a while before returning to where she still sat.
"Do I have to beg you?"
"I lost my appetite." She was wearing his robe, sitting on his bed, staying in his room. Everything was his, and he could easily take it from her. The thought unsettled her.
"I should go." She rose up from the bed.
He grasped her hand.
Their gazes t and locked.
"There’s no need for
to remain where I’m clearly not wanted."
Sothing flashed in his eyes but it disappeared before she could discern what it was. His jaw tensed and his grip on her hand tightened.
"Don’t put words in my mouth, Claire. I want you to eat - even if it ans feeding you."
She looked away, trying to compose herself.
"I can have the al in my own room."
His grip on her hand fell away.
"You don’t have to leave, Claire." His voice softened to a near-whisper.
Her tense body softened sowhat.
It’s just a al, she told herself. It won’t hurt to have a al with him.
He held out his hand to her. She took the offered hand and let him guide her into the outer chamber of the room.
True to his word, there was a lot of food there - more than anything she could hope to finish on a good day.
She sat down on the seat he held out for her and waited.
He took his seat, wincing when it scraped loudly against the marble floor.
Yeren carried the dish close to her and emptied so into her plate.
He served himself as well, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he took a bite.
"Why aren’t you eating?"
"I already told you I don’t have an appetite."
He dropped his fork. "Forgive , Claire."
Forgive him? Was he apologising?
She picked up her fork and took a small bite of the salted at before her.
"I have sothing to show you... only if you eat properly."
Her gaze snapped to his. Curiosity always killed the cat in her situation.
Claire began to eat more, her appetite springing to life almost instantly.
He grinned. "You never cease to amaze ." He murmured.
She looked up.
"Do I?"
A blush crept up her cheeks.
"I almost thought you wouldn’t talk to
till heaven cos down."
She was struggling not to smile - that had been her actual intention.
"I don’t have a choice. I’m your-"
"Don’t say it."
"Or what?"
"Do you think I’m the kind of King that makes love to his servants?"
She glanced around the room, at anything but him.
"No. But there’s always a first ti for everything, Your Grace."
He dropped his fork and rested his both hands on the table.
"You seem hellbent on provoking ."
"I am hellbent on doing just that. I feel like one of those unfortunate won who develop affections for a man that could never belong to them."
His gaze softened.
That’s when she realized the nonsense she just said.
"You have affections for ?"
She said nothing.
He laid a hand on her knee beneath the table.
"Don’t." She whispered.
The tears threatened again. He clearly didn’t have any affection for her from the incredulous way his voice sounded.
She stood up and went back into his room to get her dress and undergarnts.
It was... unbearable.
What had she even been thinking?
Claire could hear his quiet footsteps behind her.
"This night is special for , Claire. Don’t ruin it." His hands slipped around her from behind.
"Ruining it." She repeated sourly.
"Just stay. You can leave in the morning."
Why wouldn’t he let her leave when she wanted to leave?
Curiosity and resignation warred with her mind as she nodded.
He fetched a parchnt from his table and gave it to her.
A poem?
It wasn’t about her.
From the yellow and creased nature of the parchnt, she could tell it was an old one
"I thought you didn’t want
to see your poems?"
"Just read it."
She perched herself at the edge of the bed and read it.
It was about his sumr spent in the very room she was seated in. And his mother had just died.
"Why are you showing
this?"
He sat down beside her.
"I wanted you to know that even royalty suffer at so point in their lives."
She raised a brow, still confused.
"You should rest."
Her eyelids felt heavy - sleep was inevitable.
He moved to the table and poured himself so wine.
Claire laid down at the center of the bed and stared at the ceiling.
"Your mother wasn’t beheaded for a cri she didn’t commit."
"But she died all the sa, didn’t she? Pain is everywhere."
She lifted her hands and traced the patterns on the ceiling.
"You should’ve told
from the beginning."
The whole thing still weighed on her.
"You didn’t owe
anything, Miss Stenly. You still don’t. But I owe you everything."
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