Lucius made a sound like a muffled snarl as he took Jean's hand out of the hosts.
Alaric was biting his lip to hide his smile. "You're terrifying."
"I know," Embrez replied lightly. Then, to the rest of the group: "Come. You must be tired and half-starved. The cooks have prepared a feast. Baths are being drawn. My maids will show you to your chambers."
Prince Embrez Velthorne clapped his hands together dramatically, his silvery cloak billowing with the motion.
"Lady Ruth," he called to the nearest maid, a tall, stern-looking woman with ice-blonde hair in a coiled bun. "Give them all the finest rooms in the east wing. Velvet sheets, perfumed pillows, and gold tubs. But…" He pointed a jeweled finger with a sly grin, eyes landing on Jean. "Except Jean. She stays near me. I must know if she snores."
Jean choked on her breath. "What?"
Embrez raised both brows with smug delight. "What? I'm only curious. She has the face of a porcelain doll. Perhaps she hums lullabies in her sleep."
