She looks around. “Aren’t I heavy?”
“Does that matter when I make a dashing figure?”
The princess laughs, squirming until I let her down. “I slept the whole way home?”
I nod, concerned. “Are you feeling well?”
“I’m fine, just cold.”
“You’re sunburned. I kept you out too long.”
Her face is flushed pink, as are her bare shoulders and arms, yet she says, “I cannot burn.”
“Your skin says otherwise.”
She brings her hand to her shoulder. “How strange.”
“Your magic must usually protect you,” I say, feeling a kick of guilt right in my gut.
Sabine turns to look at me. “Do you think?”
“I’m afraid so.” I wince. “I’m sorry.”
Looking flummoxed, she says, “Will it return to normal?”
Laughing, I nod. “In a few days. It doesn’t look that bad.”
She pokes her skin again. “It hurts a little.”
“I have aloe in my suite,” I assure her. “Ms. Kettinson keeps me well stocked.”
Not quite meeting my eyes, Sabine bites the corner of her bottom lip. “Will Ms. Kettinson be there?”
My throat tightens. “I’m sure she left hours ago.”
A maddening sort of silence follows us the rest of the way up the stairs. We enter the hallway outside my door, and I fumble with the key as I reach for it.
“Are you nervous?” she asks quietly.
“No.” I deny it too quickly. Keeping my face intentionally blank, I look at her. “Why would I be?”
Sabine only smiles as I open the door, making me gulp.
“I’ll get you the aloe before I go downstairs to reserve a room,” I say. “The plant is in a window in the kitchen.”
I lead the way, glad Ms. Kettinson left the lamps burning for me.
As I pull out a stool for Sabine, I say, “It will only take a moment.”
She watches with avid curiosity as I choose a knife from the block and walk to the large succulent in the western-facing window. It’s tall, with firm, fleshy leaves that are as long as my forearm. I choose one and then walk back to the worktable, where Sabine waits for me.
Once there, I slice the entire length of the leaf on the wooden surface, revealing the pale green liquid the plant contains.
“Go ahead,” I tell her, gesturing awkwardly toward the plant.
She studies me for several seconds, unsure, and then dabs the tip of her finger to the leaf. Before I can stop her, she presses it to her lips and makes a strange face.
“You’re supposed to rub it on your skin,” I laugh.