Of Whispers and Daggers ✓ [TLRQ #2]

Chapter 67.1 - Leavi

The door opens in front of me. My earlier poetic thoughts about his appearance wash away as I see him up close and realize just how sick he really looks. Cadavers have worn healthier glows, and my heart breaks. What has this war done to him?

"Please, come in." He steps out of the way, leaning too much against the door to successfully hide it. I pretend not to see as I step in. "Ollem, if you would collect our lunches?"

"Of course, milord." He goes.

I slide into a seat at the table, and Aster's steps shuffle behind me before he settles heavily into his own. Glancing at the open door, I lower my voice. "Aster, what is wrong?"

He looks away. "Can we—can we just eat lunch?"

I try to wipe the sympathy from my face. "Of course."

He studies the table, and I kick myself for bringing anything up.

Voice soft, he asks, "How are you?"

The usual 'fine' dies in my mouth. I fiddle with my charm. "Reeling, a little, I guess. Still trying to make sense of everything."

He nods, and I'm glad he understands what I mean. So often, he understands when I don't expect him to.

"I meant to already have everything set up," he says. "I'm sorry for losing track of time."

"I don't have anywhere to be." And I'd rather be here than lost in my room.

He nods again, and we wait for Ollem. After he sets our plates in front of us, he makes himself scarce, and we eat. Aster's hand trembles. I turn my gaze to my food.

As the minutes stretch, I wonder again what he called me here for. My curiosity burns, but I hold the embers on my tongue. He'll speak when he's ready.

"What were you going to do now?" he asks.

I glance up, brow drawn at his strange wording, but his expression is soft and unreadable. "Stay a page, I guess, as long as they'll let me." My fork slides around the plate. "I've saved a bit of money. Maybe when N'veauvia rebuilds, I'll move into the city. Find something I'm better suited for." It's so odd not being able to ask the question back—he'll stay the prince, lead his people, be part of the rebuilding.

"I..." I look up at him again, but he's staring at the table. Finally, he meets my gaze, setting down his shaky fork. "I have a request, if you're willing to hear me out."

I set mine down as well, brow drawing. "Of course."

"I would like to propose to you."

I choke on air and grab for my napkin to cover my shock. "A job, you mean?" I say, dabbing my lips. Of course that's what he means. How in his right mind would he—

A wry smile hesitantly tips one side of his mouth. "Only as much as Princesse Consort is considered a job."

My mind spins. This isn't like him—spontaneous, rushed, selfish. "Aster, you're not making sense."