The White Sheep's Disguise ✓

Chapter 41

Cloak doesn't grant me much of a chance to gather my thoughts. As soon as the sun deems a new day, he rasps his knuckles on my door while I'm still curled up on my cot, clutching the blanket tight around my body. The higher levels of the palace are still warm at this time of year, but the abandoned servant passageways have been overcome by the drop in winter's arrival.

My joints crack as I stand, and shuffle on cold, bare feet towards the door. I must make a note to tell Gustus that I need wool socks—and plenty of them.

Compared to the middle of the night, Cloak's eyes have restored to their former brightness and the alcohol that once marred his breath is now accompanied by a crumb in the corner of his mouth. A muffin, if my nose tells all tales.

"What happened last night?" he asks before I have the chance to grip hold of my bearings. Cloak shoves his hands into the pockets of his dark trousers, bulging fists nearly tearing through the fabric.

He watches me, waiting patiently. I scratch at the side of my nose. "We...looked at the stars, then I took you back to your bed. That's all."

If he doesn't remember a foolish pledge to piss off Rylan, then I shouldn't bother reminding him. The kiss doesn't count, technically, since alcohol influenced his movements and never in Cloak's life would he consider doing that with a sane mind. I will keep that memory to myself, locked away, so he doesn't carry the guilt or embarrassment of a drunken mistake.

I shouldn't have allowed it to happen. The first sign of him moving in, I should've pushed myself as far away as possible and demanded that he never try something like that again, even if it is to piss off my husband living days away. Enough of my dreams curdled into nightmares and reminded me that Rylan is at home, alone, and I'm kissing princes.

Tucking my arms tighter around myself, I lean against the stone doorframe and immediately regret it. The chill seeps into my skin, freezing me thoroughly, but I hide the pain from my face as Cloak searches for a lie.

"That's all?" he questions. "I could have sworn—"

"No, that's it. You were drunk, and I discovered you in the servant passageways. You wanted to see the stars, so I took you. Once you were done, I brought you back and said goodnight." My words are too hurried, my voice too high. Castiel is the sibling skilled in lying, not me.

Cloak narrows his eyes. "All right." Scratching at the back of his neck, he adds, "Sorry for disturbing you. Either way, another two weeks is up. Would you care if I took you home?"

Out of all the days Gustus could've busied himself with his husband and their duties to the kingdom, this has to be the one. The day after I desire to be around Cloak the least so I can clear my head. Instead of voicing that and spending another day where I know I'll see Cloak more than in Gudgeon Village, I nod and say, "That's fine."

I change swiftly into what Gustus deems my riding outfit: a pair of leather trousers, a cinch-waist tunic, and a fur-lined frock coat that reaches my knees. The black velvet fabric is only broken by golden buttons down the lapels and on the cuffs, bathed in silk embroidery and silver stitching. I pull my hair back behind my head after the many times knotted strands have ended up in Gustus's mouth from the wind's tear.

The leather ankle boots, I buckle tightly so they don't slip off my feet. Their laces cross together in a complicated dance, twisting left and right over sheets of reddish-brown mud cracked from use around the edges.

Cloak raises an eyebrow at me when I emerge back into the hallway, completed changed and ready to head back home. I smooth the fabric of the coat, looking down at my outfit to see if I missed something. "What?" I ask.