BY THE TIME Alice had returned to the royal palace, night had already fallen. She hadn't expected to have a welcoming party waiting for her, but Spade stood right at the palace gates, pacing back and forth. He would've worn down the stone tiles if it weren't for the fact that he heard the carriage roll in right then.
"Where have you been?" he immediately asked, coming over to embrace Alice.
She squeaked in surprise, but otherwise allowed herself to be wrapped in his arms. His warmth immediately rolled over her in waves, and with her face practically buried in his chest, the scent that lingered on his clothes ― his scent ― was intoxicatingly strong and so awfully pleasant that she felt her knees weaken ever the slightest.
"I've been worried sick," he muttered into her hair, his warm breath fanning over her.
Alice finally raised her head to look at him, trying to weasel out a smile despite the grim events of the day.
