Chapter Ten.

The second course was nearly finished now, and still there was no sign of Roald. Shinko sighed. This was the third night in a row he'd missed dinner. He was going to make himself ill.

Catching the eye of a waiting maid, Shinko beckoned her over to discreetly pass on an order. The maid listened attentively, nodded, curtsied and went to do the Princess's bidding.

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At the knock on his office door, Roald looked up in surprise. 'Come in,' he called, turning to the window. It was pitch black outside and he could just make out the whispering twinkles of some of the stars.

The door opened to reveal a young maid carrying a tray. She curtsied a little wobbly, straining not to spill a drop of her precious cargo.

'What's this?' Roald asked.

'Dinner, your Highness,' she replied. 'From her Highness, the Princess Shinkokami.'

Controlling his expression carefully, he indicated for her to use the side table. He didn't speak because he was gritting his teeth together tightly. Trust Shinko to start getting involved! He knew she was only trying to do her duty, but he didn't need a nosy busybody for a wife! Next thing he knew, she'd be coming along to his office to check up on him or drag him to meals proper.

He watched the maid move about. She was short, but rather plump. Her dirty-blonde hair was restrained beneath a mob cap, and her ruddy cheeks shone in the light from the fire. She moved without grace, huffing and puffing in her work.

Nelle would never make so much noise.

Roald blinked, his insides growing cold. He hadn't just thought that. He swallowed. Oh yes, he was certainly thinking of Nelle.

She had visited him this morning, bringing him his breakfast tray as usual. He had watched her move through his office, thinking how elegant she was- as elegant as his Yamani Princess, really. She was just as quiet as she ever was, but there was something different about her- something in the way she walked, or held herself, that said she had a new confidence.

'Good morning, Nelle,' he had said.

'Good morning, Your Highness.' She had curtsied, and the tray hadn't wobbled at all in her hands. He was so used to her shy behaviour, that at first he thought he imagined the glance she snuck his way. Soon, however, he had realised that was definitely not his imagination.

She was such a pretty little thing, really. Roald had watched her, unable to keep his eyes from her form, wondering how her hair would feel in his hands.

Roald would never be unfaithful to his wife; that went against tradition and duty. Yet he couldn't ignore he had felt a strong urge to take that trim figure in his hands and kiss those little lips soundly.

Even now, hours later, he could still feel that fiery longing in the pit of his stomach.

'Will that be all, my lord?'

The coarse voice of the plump maid jolted Roald back. Evening; it was evening, and Nelle was far away.

'Yes, yes, that's everything,' Roald rushed. He could feel his cheeks hot from his thoughts, as if he had been caught in the act itself. He was a married man- a married Prince; he should not be dreaming of other women.

The maid curtsied her way out of the office and Roald was left alone again. He banished the traitorous thought of that sultry temptress Nelle from his mind, and looked instead across at the meal Shinko had sent up for him. He could smell it already and his face wrinkled in disgust. He was not hungry.

Leaving the sumptuous meal to grow cold, he turned back to his work. The candle burned low as he read and wrote and did various calculations. The scribbled words and precise numbers were beginning to swim before his eyes when the candle flame spluttered and went out.

Roald rubbed his eyes with a sigh, and then watched the wispy curl of smoke coil upwards, lit by the vague light from the window. It eventually disintegrated into the darkness of his office. Even the fire in the heath had died, leaving the room chilly.

Roald shivered a little and pushed his chair back from the desk. Time to go to bed; he was exhausted. As he moved he stubbed his toe on the desk leg and it went straight through his thin indoor-boots. Stifling a cry, he muttered curses under his breath instead and stumbled the rest of the way out of the dark room.

The corridors were lit by the large windows and the torches in sconces along the walls. When he reached the Private Royal Wing however, the torches were unlit.

Roald tried to call a globe of his light into his hand, but his Gift was unresponsive. His mind was like a string pulled too tight beginning to fray at the ends, and he couldn't concentrate enough- and didn't have enough energy- to summon up his magic. So he continued stumbling along in the dark.

He groped for the handle of the door and the wood moved beneath his hands, swinging open to reveal his room warmed by the fire. He blinked; he had expected it to be dark and cold in here too.

Shinko was sitting by the fire, a book in her hand. She rose as soon as she saw him. 'I've been waiting for you. How was your day?'

Roald crossed the room to lay his sheath of papers on a desk. He didn't even remember picking them up. He couldn't see the flowers he had brought Shinko a few days ago anywhere.

'Well enough,' he replied. 'And yours?'

Shinko shrugged. 'I missed you at dinner.'

Roald looked away. In a rush, Shinko was by his side, tentatively laying a hand on his arm.

'Roald, please, talk to me. What is wrong?'

'Nothing is wrong, Shinko.'

'Something is not right. Roald, you are not yourself.' He did not reply. 'What was your nightmare about, Roald?'

He shook his arm away, turned his back to her. Shinko forced to swallow the lump in her throat.

'Please Roald, tell me about it.'

'I… can't.' His voice was a whisper, and he left her standing by the fire and went into their bedroom. Shinko sighed and tossed down the book she was holding. It slipped off the chair, falling onto the floor with a thud. The shadows from the flames flickered across its cover as it lay in front of the fire, but she left it there to follow her husband into their bedroom.

To her surprise, Roald was standing by the window, still fully dressed. After a pause, she went to his side. There was nothing particularly interesting that she could see- nothing that might have caught his attention so; only the moonlight.

Finally he sighed and pulled the drapes closed. Steeling herself, Shinko pressed her palms against his chest. He looked into her eyes in mild surprise.

'Roald, I-'

'Don't ask me again,' he whispered, and moved away from her hands. Standing near the bed, he began to undress. He pulled off his dark blue tunic, throwing it across the patchwork quilt, and began to undo the ties on his cream loose-fitting shirt.

He was shocked when Shinko crossed the room and gently pushed his hands away. Her nimble fingers had the ties undone in seconds and she pulled the shirt over his head. She kept hold of the material as he stood there before her in just his breeches.

Shinko swallowed, all of a sudden feeling like a young innocent. She lightly touched one hand to the warm skin of his chest, loving the thrill the connection gave her.

Her hand moved up, skimming over the fading bruise on his shoulder, over his neck and into his hair. Warily, her fingers twined in his dark curls.

He was breathing heavily, his eyes focused on her face. A hand found itself to her waist; fingers ran light circles on her hip through her kimono.

Leaning up, she pressed her lips to his. It felt good- and even better when he responded, pulling her close. The hand on her hip slipped into the small of her back. His other hand was in her hair.

The kiss deepened, and he reached for her other arm, wrapping it around him. He yanked the shirt from her hand and his fingers brushed against something on her wrist— he pulled away.

Taking deep ragged breaths, Roald brought her arm up so that he could see her wrist. The bracelet he had had specially made for her lay there, the yellow, orange and red stones fire against her milky skin.

'You're wearing this,' he muttered.

'Yes. Does it please you?'

Roald looked up into her eyes, his hands dropping from her. 'I don't know,' he whispered, turning away. His eyes were haunted; lost.'I don't know.'

He snatched the discarded shirt off the floor and the tunic from the bed and threw them into his clothes chest, shrugging off his boots at the same time. His tense, jerky movements hinted that he was cross, but Shinko couldn't decipher why. Only when he had finished changing and was curled beneath the sheets of the bed did she begin to get ready herself.

When she got in beside him, he was already fast asleep, his features appearing fraught even in his dreams.

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