She returns her eyes to my face. “I am.”
“Then why are you nervous?”
“I’ve never left Faerie,” she says quietly. “This is the first time I’ve had to disguise myself.”
“Why bother? It’s not as if you’re visiting Valsta illegally. The borders are open, and most humans are bemused by your people.”
The princess shrugs. “It’s easier this way. Less fuss.”
Before I can ask where her guards are, Marie arrives with my espresso. The café matron turns her curious eyes on the princess, possibly coming to the conclusion she’s not one of my regular theater girls. She probably thinks Sabine is an actress I’ve lured from the metropolitan city of Albright.
“What can I get you, dear?” she asks.
“Oh.” Sabine’s eyes flicker to my espresso. “Black tea, please. With honey.”
“And an espresso with steamed milk and sugar,” I say. “Did you make your crumb cake this morning?”
“I did,” Marie answers. “We still have a few servings left—I made sure to save you some.”
“We’ll take two, please.”
She smiles warmly. “Of course, Alex.”
Sabine glances at me after Marie moves to another table, looking uncomfortable. “I wasn’t sure how to order it. What is coffee, exactly?”
“It’s made from beans merchants bring from the south. They’re roasted, ground, and then the flavor is extracted with hot water. It’s become popular in the city in the last few years.”
“Beans…like chocolate?” Sabine asks.
“It doesn’t taste like chocolate.”
She looks intrigued. But then, as if remembering she doesn’t like me anymore, she glances away so she won’t have to look at me.
“I suppose I should apologize for yesterday.” I study her, hoping she won’t notice that I’m not actually offering an apology.
Her eyes lock on mine. “Was performing for my birthday such a horrible experience for you?”
“That’s not…”
Sabine lifts a golden brow, waiting.
The excuses evaporate in my mouth, leaving nothing but the truth. But if the princess doesn’t know I’m an escaped illanté, I certainly don’t wish to inform her.
“Let’s not talk about it,” I finally say. “Why mar today’s visit by rehashing yesterday’s bad behavior?”
“Your bad behavior,” she points out.
“Yes,” I agree dryly. “I was solely at fault—you were blameless. Better?”
Sabine graces me with a smile that borders on flirtatious. Her dark eyelashes flutter, and her rose-stained lips quirk to the side with amusement. “Much.”
I stare at her like a besotted dolt—like Frederick.
Shaking myself out of my temporary stupor, I ask, “How long are you here?”
“The coach for Kellington leaves this afternoon.”
“You’re taking the public coach?” I ask, astonished at the idea.