Something With a Prince

Chapter Sixty-One: Arms and Armor

Tallethea

Once Arlyn and I were back in the castle and he was safely transported to his room, I walked around a little. Predictably landing at a particular door, in a particular wing of the castle. Four doors down from my own.

My heart ached, all the time. Sometimes happily, and other times to the point of sickness. Even now, standing before his door, I felt as if I were pushing. Testing boundaries he so clearly set. Not speaking to me was clearly a sign of something, and I should respect that. I should go to my room and do something useful. I could clean the floor, or tidy my closet, or brush my hair and take a bath. At this point I would even start reading as a hobby if it got him off my mind...but I didn't do any of those things. I just stared at his door, unsure if he was even in there. Unsure if he would open it up after I knocked.

"It's a two-part process. First, being the act of knocking."

My legs nearly gave out and I froze as Lansing spoke from behind me. He spoke. To me. I didn't even bother to hide my astonishment as I turned around.

Lansing watched me with careful eyes, a plate of what looked like sweets in his hand. My voice failed me, so I turned back around and knocked on the door.

"The second, being the requirement of a person in the room."

At that I whipped around and flashed a dirty look. And the prince, Gods save me, smiled in return.

Without another word, he walked past me and into the room, shutting the door in my face. Then, "You're ready now. Go ahead."

Flustered and a little irritated, I knocked. He took a moment, then opened the door with a blank expression.

"And what happens now?" I said, noticing he had set the tray down across the room on a little table.

For a moment we just stood there, looking at each other. He had shaved, and his hair, once heavy at the nape of his neck, was cut into a shorter crop of golden curls. The shirt he wore was dark green with the sleeves rolled up, a black vest fitted nicely over the top of it. There was color in his face, still deeply tanned by the sun, and his lips were that gentle pink. I hardly had the nerve to look him in the eye for longer than a couple seconds. He looked well, and healthy, and not like a person who had been pinning their guilty guts out for the past two weeks. Unlike me.

I didn't dare comment on his silence, not just the one now but the one hanging over our heads for the past couple of weeks. As I was still in the hall, and his hand was still on the door, I did not want to risk being shut out. But eventually, one of us had to say something.

"I thought you might want to know that Arlyn took a walk with me and is now sleeping." My words seemed thin, and shaky.

"Is that it?" He inched the door closed, and I stepped forward.

"No." I cleared my throat, "I mean yes, but no. That's not really why I came here."

"Then why else were you staring longingly at my door?" He was enjoying this. Watching me figure him out for once.

Biting my tongue at the word longing, although it was completely accurate, my response came out firm as I took another step forward. Placing my boot in the doorway. Lansing did not back up or flinch, he just raised his eyebrow.

"Because I thought you might be behind it, and I didn't know if you would let me in?"

At this the game stopped, and he dropped the act. In a moment, I recognized his eyes and all that lay within them. He took a breath, looking at the floor. "I've been angry. I am angry." Lansing swallowed, looking back up at me. I understood what Arlyn meant about barley reaching levels of conversation. "There's still a lot."