Stay With Me
Prince Lucian's Point of View
The servant had moved efficiently.
By the time he finished applying the last of the ointment to Freya's wrists and set the cloth aside, a full spread of food had already been arranged on the table across the room. Covered dishes, a small pitcher of water, two settings laid out with quiet precision.
He watched Freya's eyes drift toward the table without her seeming to realize they were doing it.
She caught herself and looked back at her hands.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
"No." Her voice came out firm. "I told you. I am fine."
As if the words themselves had been waiting for exactly that moment to prove her wrong, a low, rolling sound rose from her midsection. Loud enough to fill the quiet with the room completely. She pressed both hands flat
