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best to explain it.’
    â€˜I much prefer the unvarnished truth. I find it is less painful in the long run.’
    This remark earned her another of those looks. Assessing, that was the word she had been searching for. ‘You speak as one who has experience of—er—painful truths?’
    â€˜That’s not what I said.’
    â€˜It is what you implied.’
    â€˜Goodness,’ Constance retorted, ‘am I on trial?’
    Prince Kadar flinched. Then he smiled ruefully. ‘I beg your pardon, of course not. I find you—interesting.’
    Which was no compliment, she was sure, but she was blushing all the same. ‘Well,’ Constance said, flustered, ‘I find you interesting too.’ Could she find anything more fatuous to say! ‘I mean, I have never met a prince before.’ Or inane! ‘You were right.’ Deflated, she smiled at him awkwardly. ‘I have had a great deal of experience in painful truths of late, but if you are thinking that I am likely to dissolve into hysterics at whatever it is you have to tell me, then let me reassure you, I am not the hysterical type.’
    â€˜After what you have been through, I am surprised that you have any equanimity at all,’ the Prince replied. ‘Your composure is admirable.’
    â€˜Oh, it’s not. Trust me, beneath this stylish piece of clothing, which is the only one I possess, I am shaking like a jelly.’
    The faintest trace of colour stained his cheeks in response to this remark. His gaze was fixed on the gaping neck of her tunic. She had embarrassed him. And now she had embarrassed herself again. Constance bit back her apology, realizing just in time that it would only make matters worse, deciding to take a leaf out of the Prince’s book, and hold her tongue. And stop fidgeting. And stop staring.
    â€˜The sinking of the Kent ,’Prince Kadar pronounced finally, as if he were reading from Shakespeare. ‘First of all, I must apologise. I was out of the country on state business when the ship went down, and since my return I have been required to devote my time to dealing with the consequences of the shipwreck. I am afraid the message sent to the palace informing us of your survival was overlooked until yesterday. Be assured that I acted upon it immediately.’
    â€˜The man you sent was certainly efficient,’ Constance replied, ‘though I confess I found the sea journey somewhat more of an ordeal than I anticipated. I fear I can no longer claim to be such an excellent sailor as I once was.’
    â€˜I am sorry. It did not occur to me that another sea voyage so soon after your ordeal would be a fraught experience for you. I thought only to have you brought here by the fastest route possible.’
    â€˜Please, think nothing of it.’ Constance repressed a shudder. ‘My only regret is that my expression of thanks to Bashir, the village elder whose family cared for me, were woefully inadequate.’
    â€˜You need not fret about that. I instructed my Chief Adviser to ensure that the village was rewarded for the care which they took of you. I am sure that Abdul-Majid said and did everything that was appropriate. He is a most—a most conscientious servant of the crown.’
    Though not a servant close to Prince Kadar’s heart, if she did not mistake that tiny little moue of distaste. ‘A Chief Adviser,’ Constance said, ‘implies that you have many others.’
    â€˜A great many, all most anxious to air their opinions, none of which, I am fairly certain, coincide with mine.’
    The words were spoken with some feeling. The Prince looked as if he would prefer them unsaid. Tempted as she was—very tempted—to pursue the matter, Constance decided not to risk a further retreat into that haughty shell of his. Her fingers strayed to her wound, which was beginning to throb.
    â€˜Does it pain you? Will I call a physician? Has the journey