I open my mouth to ask why, but realization hits me a moment later. She has her duties, her job, her princess to tend to. She probably never had the time, much less the ability, to come and go freely as a servant.
The thought sours my gut, and my privilege stares me in the face. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come. What is there to say?
“It's alright,” she says softly, like she's reading my mind. “I accepted my reality a long time ago. There are many things I can’t do that I would like to; it's just a part of my position.”
I don't like her answer, even though it's the reality of every servant in our castle. It's like a veil has been pulled back, and I'm seeing clearly for the first time. While our servants are well taken care of, it’s hardly a life of luxury. Definitely not one of freedom.
“What kind of things would you like to do?” I ask.
“Hike.” She grins wide and moves to sit across from me in the other chair. “Have a day off, swim.”
“Swim?” My brows furrow and she nods.
She nods. “Sometimes, when I’m in the bath, I close my eyes and pretend it’s a lake. Silly, I know.”
“Not silly at all,” I assure her, my mind already scheming. There are at least three lakes in Ulleh adequate for swimming, and a river not far from the trail I hike in the forest. I’m already imagining splashing in the water, wondering how the hell I can make that happen without getting either of us in trouble, when her voice cuts off my thoughts again.
“What's something you've always wanted to do but haven't?”
I lean back in the chair, scratching the skin between my horns.
“I've wanted to punch Nor in the mouth a couple of times,” I muse, still wracking my brain. Nothing else comes to mind initially. “Haven't done that yet.”
Lizette rolls her eyes when she thinks I'm not looking, and I chuckle.There'sa hint of the fire I saw yesterday, hovering just beneath her mask of well-practiced etiquette.
“I think I'd like to cook,” I say slowly, “but there's no sense in learning when you have an entire staff at your disposal.”
Her brows arch. “Cooking?”
I pat my stomach. “The way to my heart is food, so learning to make that which I love… on second thought, it's probably better that I can’t.”
She laughs, the sounds floating like music through the room, and it hits me how much I'm enjoying myself. Here, locked away in the solace of the library with Lizette, nothing else matters. Our kingdoms, our schedules, our titles, none of it.
“I’d say I could teach you but…” She doesn't have to finish her sentence. Anything like that is probably out of the question, unless we want to draw attention to ourselves. Which I don’t. “Maybe I could write down some recipes for you. What's your favorite thing to eat?”
I don't have to think. “Years ago, before our head chef retired, she used to make this amazing blueberry pie.” I moan at the thought. “Buttery, flaky, a little tangy…” My mouth waters. “Best thing I ever had.”
Lizette nods along while I ramble, never once acting bored. I can't tell if she enjoys listening to me, or if she's just practiced her faux-intrigue for so many years that she's mastered it.
“Enough about me,” I say abruptly, tired of hearing my own voice. What I want is to hear hers, to listen to any and everything she’s willing to tell me.
The minutes dragged by impossibly long while I stood waiting for her outside the kitchen, but here in the library they fly by. When I check the time, I realize we've been sitting here for over an hour.
Damn it.
As much as I'd like to be holed up in here with her for the rest of the day, I know we'll each have people looking for us.
“It’s getting late,” she says when she notices me staring at the clock on the wall.
“It is,” I agree.
Silence envelopes us, and I drum my fingers on the arm of the chair anxiously. I’m not ready to leave, especially not knowing when I’ll get the chance to speak to her again. But could I really suggest we do this again? Would she even want to?
She stands, and I join her, grappling with my indecision. Finally, I say the thing burning up my throat.
“If you’d like,” I start, hesitant to finish the thought, “I could join you again sometime. Here, I mean. In the library.”
I sound like a fucking moron.