Page 8 of The Autumn Prince

“Virginity isn’t⁠—”

“One of these two will wait outside for when you’re ready to go down.”

They trooped out of the room, closing the door behind them, and left me sitting there blinking, dumbfounded all the way down to my bare toes.

“The fuck just happened?” I whispered to myself. I glanced back at my dead phone because now would’ve been the perfect time to call a family meeting with my besties and ask them what the hell I was supposed to do.

I tossed back the blanket and got out of bed. “Fix his virginity problem? Where does that guy get off talking like that?”

In the bathroom, I did indeed find the tub full, something that smelled like bergamot perfuming the air, and a few candles lit around the room. The whole space was cozy with a slightly citrusy and tea-like scent. Okay, I could get used to starting the day like this.

Minus the interrogation, of course.

I slipped into the bath and relaxed back, just giving myself a minute. Part of me felt a little proud that I’d been accepted by the staff, which I liked. While another part of me felt like I needed someone to fetch me a manager. Who talked about their prince like that? It was almost like Lars thought of himself as a big brother—or maybe a meddling great-uncle—to Incendis. The kind of person who pushed in and “fixed” things whether they were broken or not.

Since I’d washed last night to get the day of hiking off me, I only did a cursory scrub now before getting out again. I felt loose limbed and a little ready for a fight. For a moment, I boxed myself in the giant mirror above the sinks. I’d take on whatever was wrong with this court and Lars, if I had to.

Dressing was interesting. The clothes were the same sort of thing Incendis had put on last night, with a pirate shirt, vest, and trousers that were just long enough to cover my knees. Garters around my thighs held the hose in place, and the shoes added two inches to my height. I felt fancy and rather dashing thanks to everything being in shades of burgundy that crisply framed me and my golden hair to perfection.

If someone gave me a wide-brimmed hat with an ostrich feather in it and possibly a sword, I’d be roguishly dangerous and able to conquer the high seas in under an hour.

Out in the hall, I wasn’t sure if it was Landon or Sherman who’d stuck around to escort me, but I thanked him regardless.

“Are you taking me down to breakfast?” I asked as we walked the length of a long hallway.

“Yes, sir.” He glanced back at me. “Unless you’d prefer to speak with His Highness first?”

“Is he not at breakfast?”

“He’s been up and working for several hours already, sir.”

“Really?” I couldn’t tell what time it might be, but the sun was only just cresting the trees outside, so that made me think it was pretty early.

“He wakes well before dawn every day.”

“Huh.” Was that normal for princes? Well, maybe not modern day ones who were basically just rich boys with nothing to do. But a working prince? One who lead a people? Maybe it was normal.

I just wasn’t a crack-of-dawn kind of guy.

“Let’s stop in and see His Highness first,” I requested.

Landon or Sherman changed his route right away and took me through what looked like a grand foyer between a massive staircase and a pair of tall and very wide doors. Every surface was a gleaming white marble with wooden beams, railings, and crown molding that was so dark it might actually be black. Did I like that things were so stark and austere out here while the rooms were so colorful? I wasn’t sure. It made me wonder if Incendis had designed his personal space, while he’d only inherited everything else.

We walked into a room that was huge but also crowded with tables and a variety of people working at them. The bustling activity made me think of a newsroom after an important event, everyone scrambling to do their part to scoop the story. I half expected some old guy with a cigar clamped between his teeth to be barking orders at everyone.

But no, it was only Incendis dashing between every group. He appeared flushed and flustered as he spoke in a way that seemed urgent.

“Has something happened?”

“No, sir.”

“Is this just a normal day?”

“Yes, sir.”

Good grief, everyone in here looked like they were planning a war or how to recover from one. Sweaty brows, pinched faces, accusing fingers, and not one single person walked anywhere—they ran.

“Did His Highness eat breakfast?” Because, if he hadn’t, I was going to drag him out of there and feed him something.