Page 12 of Scarred Crown

She turns a lovely shade of red. “Well, yes.”

“Leave it, then. We only worry about shit.” I point to the brimming water bucket next to the toilet. “You pour that into the toilet to make it flush.”

“Oh.” She draws the towel tighter around her. “Okay. What about the shower?” She steps into the enclosed fabric room and peers up at the wide metal showerhead.

I tug on the cord next to the pipe, and I fake a frown of puzzlement. “Huh. That normally works. Must be broken.”

“I need a shower.” She groans.

“’Fraid it won’t be this morning. I’ll speak to Kafil.” I have to turn my back so she doesn’t see my smile. “Breakfast is here.”

“Nick, is it really broken or is this some frat-boy trick?”

Having her refer to me as Nick instead of Prince Nicholas in that snooty tone is an improvement. I school my expression into one of confusion before I turn back to her. “Why would I trick you?”

“I stole your bed last night, and I rearranged all your stuff.”

I raise my eyebrows. She rearranged my stuff? Hadn’t discovered that yet. Delightful. She can stew in her own stench today, and I’m not going to care one lick.

“You didn’t steal my bed, you kept it warm for me.” I let my gaze roam over her towel in a suggestive way she’ll hate. “My official bed warmer.” I lean against the tent pole and cross my arms.

“Please. Spare me. I’ll buy you a hot water bottle.”

“No need. If you hadn’t fallen asleep so early last night they’d have put a hot water bottle between the sheets to warm them up before I came back.”

“Impressive.”

Funny, she doesn’t sound impressed. “Sometimes,” I say, pushing off the pole. “It’s good to be me. Always a joy when I find a woman in my bed instead of a water bottle.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“By the end of the day, we’ll be disgusting together.”

“Except mine will wash off.” She tries to cross her arms and thinks better of it when her towel slips.

“Your disgust for me will wash off? That I’d like to see.” I eye her with a smirk.

“God, was your crown bunny so terrible last night that any woman will do this morning? Or do you flirt with everything that walks?”

“Secretary Jensen that’s shockingly ableist.”

Her cheeks glow again. “I’m glad to hear you’re not discriminating.”

“And yet, that doesn’t sound like a compliment.” I make a tsking noise. “What would your mother think about you speaking to a member of the royal family this way?” I cock an eyebrow.

“She’s retired now. She’d probably tell me to give as good as I get.”

“Seems like a good motto for life, doesn’t it? Give as good as you get?” I coat the words in sexual innuendo, but she just rolls her eyes. Christ. She is immune to me. Stunning, really. When was the last time a woman didn’t part their legs when I used that tone and gave them my best smoldering look? Not sure it’s ever happened.

“I’m sure you give and get far more than you should.” She glances over her shoulder toward her toiletries.

“There’s such a thing as too much?”

“Look in the mirror. You’re the very definition of it.” Julia sighs. “I need to get ready since a shower seems to be out of the question.” She shoos me out with one hand while the other clutches her towel to her chest.

I duck out the bathroom door and zip it closed. In the main bedroom, I search through multiple drawers until I find all my clothes. No way I’m asking her where anything is located. She didn’t even organize my items in a logical manner, which had to be on purpose. Though she’s messy, she’s never disorganized.

At the little table, I stare down at my crepes. Of all the breakfast options here, these are my favorite. I should be happy—good breakfast, tracking cool animals, solitude. Except…