Alina was pacing in his room when he came in that night, still thinking about Audrey's conversation with the ladies of the castle.
He closed the door and began to unbutton his coat.
"Your father is doing better," he said. "The physician sent word this afternoon. The fever hasn't returned."
She stopped mid-step and looked at him. For a moment, the whispers, the humiliation, and the uncertainty faded away.
"Thank you," she said. "I should have said it earlier, but…thank you…for everything you did and for what you're still doing."
He did not answer. She expected him to go to bed like always, but instead, he sat at his desk and opened a book to read. She glanced at him, surprised, then started pacing again.
She could feel him watching her. The book was open, his eyes were on the page but his attention was on her. The silence stretched between them, taut and heavy.
"Why are you so frustrated?" he asked.
She stopped.
"What?"
