Chapter 2 - The Royal Inquiry
The heavy silence in the doorway stretched for three long heartbeats. Josette stared up at him, her mind racing through a dozen defensive protocols, while Lachlan simply watched her with an unreadable expression that held both infinite patience and absolute determination.
"I didn't offer anything," Josette said evenly, though her pulse was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "It was a juvenile prank engineered by an intoxicated roommate who should probably be expelled from the academy immediately."
From behind the eucalyptus rack, a muffled squawk of protest echoed from Pippa. Lachlan’s smile widened, a genuine flash of amusement breaking through his stern royal demeanor.
"I heard that," Pippa called out, her voice straining as she tried to remain hidden. "And for the record, I resent the implication, Your Majesty!"
Lachlan chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to vibrate straight through the stone floorboards. He shifted his weight, crossing his arms over his chest. "Your roommate makes compelling arguments, Josette. And besides, I have good authority that the kiss was genuine in execution, even if it originated from a place of peer pressure."
"You are the Alpha King," Josette whispered, lowering her voice so it wouldn't carry down the quiet corridor. "You have state affairs to attend to. You shouldn't be standing in a drafty student workshop harassing the herbalists."
"Who said anything about harassing?" Lachlan’s voice dropped an octave, losing its playful edge and replacing it with something heavy, serious, and electric. As if on cue, a tiny spark of golden light flickered between the lapel of his tunic and the silver clasp at his throat. He looked down at it, then back up at her. "Tell me you didn't feel that last night."
Josette clenched her fists at her sides, fighting the warmth that threatened to flood her cheeks. "I felt an atmospheric anomaly caused by high humidity and emotional overstimulation."
"An atmospheric anomaly," he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Is that what you call the fact that every time I get within three feet of you, my skin feels like it's been struck by lightning?"
"It’s a biological quirk of the bond," she insisted stubbornly. "It doesn't mean we have to act on it. Documentation clearly states that mates can choose to sever or ignore the resonance if they maintain strict emotional detachment."
Lachlan stepped closer, ignoring the physical barrier of the doorway. He didn't touch her, but he came close enough that she could see the flecks of gold woven into the deep green of his iris. "And have you been maintaining strict emotional detachment since I walked away last night?"
Josette opened her mouth to deliver a scathing rebuttal, but the words died in her throat. She hadn't slept an hour. Every time she closed her eyes, she had imagined the sound of his voice asking her about her research, treating her intellect with respect rather than condescension. It infuriated her how easily he had bypassed her defenses.
"I have work to do," she muttered, stepping back and gesturing vaguely toward the bubbling alembic. "The winter batch of feverfew needs to be bottled before noon, or the volatile oils will degrade."
"Then let me help," Lachlan said smoothly, stepping past her into the workshop before she could object.
Josette whirled around. "You are a monarch. You do not bottle feverfew."
"I am also a trained field medic," Lachlan countered, rolling up his sleeves further and revealing forearms marked with faint, faded scars from old skirmishes. He walked straight over to the workbench, picked up a clean glass vial, and inspected it with practiced precision. "During the Western campaigns, I brewed enough antiseptic poultices to stock a small city. Or did you assume I spent my entire life sitting on a velvet throne eating grapes?"
From her hiding spot, Pippa peered out from behind the shelves, her eyes shining with absolute delight. She gave Josette a frantic, two-thumbs-up gesture before silently slipping out the side door, leaving the two of them entirely alone in the aromatic haze of the workshop.
Josette glared at the empty doorway where Pippa had vanished, then turned her gaze back to the King. He had already picked up a wooden spatula and was methodically stirring a secondary batch of willow bark extract, his movements smooth, efficient, and entirely unpretentious.
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"If you ruin my willow bark," Josette warned, walking over and taking her place on the opposite side of the table, "I will personally test every single poison in the restricted cabinet on your royal horse."
Lachlan looked up, his eyes gleaming with a fierce, challenging light. "Try it," he murmured softly. "I think we’d both learn something fascinating from the experiment."
