The Rebel Prince (The Season Series #3)

Chapter 32

I gave the Carvalhos their privacy upon our return to camp. One of Rafael's uncles fell to his knees upon recognizing the three children accompanying us. The other wrapped Teodoro in a hug so tight it nearly crushed the exhausted boy. Valentina remained pinned to Rafael's side, her tiny fist balled in the fabric of his shirt, refusing to release him. Rafael did not appear to mind. Gabriele still did not speak.

The rain abated by sundown, streaks of scarlet painting the undersides of the retreating clouds. A chilled breeze raced through the trees around us, still humid after the day's rain. Tempted as I was to practice with my bow, I busied myself with my new chores as maidservant until the scent of dinner filled the twilit air. Scouring the camp, I located Frederico, seated across from Rafael and the children, the Carvalho uncles flanking them. No Beatriz. A grin tugged at my cheeks as I secured not one, but two portions of roasted hare.

Picking my way around the perimeter, I found her seated against a tree facing the setting sun. She slid one of her knives across a whetstone, her hair a wild, unbound cascade hiding her face.

"Obedient little prince, aren't you?" She scraped her hair aside, studying the edge of her blade with barely a glance in my direction.

"A bet is a bet," I replied, setting myself down closer to her than was probably wise. She eyed the place where my leg brushed hers as I stretched out beside her, her blade screaming against the whetstone once more. I'd taken care to seat myself to her right, away from the scarred part of her face. Closer to her knife-wielding hand, but I didn't think it too risky since she hadn't immediately jerked her leg away from mine.

"Not that one," Beatriz said, when I lifted one of the meat skewers to my mouth. The edge of her lips had flickered up as she fought a sidelong grin. I lowered the skewer.

"If you'd hurry up, I would've given you first choice," I replied huffily.

"Do not come between me and my knives, idiota," Beatriz said, caressing the blade to test its edge. I looked away when I began to wonder what it would feel like if she caressed me that way.

A laugh rumbled in her chest as she lifted her leg to sheath the knife back in her boot. A shiver rippled up my thigh when her leg slid back down against mine, closing the space between us even further. Seizing my distraction, she swiped the choicier skewer from me, tearing into it as she stared off towards the setting sun.

"I assume you've already set up my bedroll?" she asked.

"What kind of maidservant would I be if I hadn't?" I grinned.

"A poor one," Beatriz affirmed with a nod. "Though I'll relieve you of your duties if you've put me anywhere near Josepe and his terrible snores."

"I think you'll quite like where I've put you."

In response, she did something I did not expect at all. Taking yet another bite from her skewer, she leaned her head over to rest it against my shoulder. I tried to continue eating normally, battling the dual desires to savour the moment, frozen in place, or wriggle my arm free to settle it over her shoulders.

"Do these pretty words of yours thrill your Pretanian girls?" she asked, tearing me from my inner debate.

"Obviously. Haven't you heard that I'm the world's most charming prince?"

She looked up at me with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She shook her head, her hair smelling of rain and the swaying grasses we'd ridden through earlier that day.

"Then when will you learn that I'm not like Pretanian girls?"

"I think you've already made that quite clear," I replied. I liked where this conversation was going, so much so that I finally decided upon a course of action. As smoothly as I could, I slid my arm up along her back, resting it across her shoulders. At first, she didn't move, inspecting the last morsel of meat on her skewer as if I hadn't moved at all. Then she reached over and tugged my cloak around her shoulders, wrapping the pair of us up in it. She chewed the last of her dinner while I fought to keep from pinning her to the tree and ravishing her, my own dinner forgotten.