The young lady whispered an apology, but Sir Eckhart ducked after her ward with a lack of diplomacy that stuck like a needle in her throat. She would not argue, not in front of so many strangers, but neither would she allow the prince to disappear into the middle of a rainstorm.

She reached the foyer just as Fier’s hand touched the latch, and as the prince began to draw open the door, Eckhart slammed a hand against it, forcing it closed again with a crack that rattled the sconces.

Despite the sound, despite the intervention, the prince did not flinch, did not release the handle of the door, did not seem at all to register Eckhart’s presence.

“Fier. Please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I need to go outside.”

“Not in the rain. Not like this.”

“I have to go.” His voice hitched higher; his breathing, already unsteady, turned fast and shallow. “Just let me go.”

“Not in the rain. Your room is—”

“No. Not my room. I need to go.”

“Why—” Eckhart broke off the question, surprise fluttering to life in her chest: Fier’s hands were shaking, a condition mitigated only in part by his iron-tight grip on the door. “Fier, no one came here tonight to hurt you. No one means you any harm.”

“I need to go.”

Eckhart, silent, watched the prince’s shaking carry from his hands to suffuse the rest of his body. This was not, as the rumors would insist, a tantrum. This – whatever it was – was something far, far worse.

But the storm was still raging outside; even if Fier would not go to his own room, he could not go out of doors.

Eckhart exhaled a deep, settling breath. “Stay, Fier. You are safe here. We can find somewhere else for you to sleep.” She lifted her hand from the door. Fier, though he did not let go of the handle, made no move to flee. Hoping the worst had passed, Eckhart put a hand on Fier’s wrist to guide him away from the threshold and the storm beyond.

The prince lashed out – faster than a snake – and Eckhart stumbled back in surprise, her cheek stinging.

For a heartbeat of stunned disbelief, she could do nothing but stare while Fier stared back at her, wild-eyed and open-mouthed. Realization caught his breath in the same moment it caught in her chest: He had struck her.

Tap tap tap.

Another moment passed in heavy silence before Eckhart recognized the sound for what it was: someone outside, requesting entry. Though she could feel her eye beginning to swell shut, she turned to face the door and pulled her stance back into that of a responsible attendant. The movement must have startled Fier out of his shock, as he replaced his hands on the handle and slowly, slowly drew open the door.