CHAPTER TWELVE
I tossed and turned in bed, my mind replaying the events of the day: Prince Stephen frozen with fear in the hallway, Prince Thomas leaning against the wall as he watched our interaction.
I thought about the words in the letter, not meant for Prince Stephen’s eyes, and certainly not for mine.
Did Prince Thomas know? How could he?
He was a famous healing mage. Surely he knew more about Stephen’s condition than the rest of his brothers.
And then there was Thomas’s disdain for Prince Theodore’s decision-making, their heated argument and the slammed door. He already viewed one brother as unfit for the throne. Had he taken part in the discussion to remove Stephen from succession as well?
Did he want to claim the crown for himself?
It irked me that he spoke to his own family that way. I couldn’t imagine raising my voice at Mama and Kelara, let alone little Asha.
But then again, the affection with which he’d slung his arm around Stephen’s shoulders and chased him down the hall—it would take someone truly skilled at pretending to act like that.
I slipped out of bed, the icy stone floors sending goosebumps up my limbs.
I pulled a thin robe around my shoulders and grabbed Papa’s journal.
My fingers wrapped around the bundle of parchment as I felt my way down the corridor and up the stairs, where moonlight filtered in through the wide windows.
The only soul in sight was the rare, familiar guard who nodded at me as I passed, the only sound the soft tread of my slippers against the carpet.
I wandered out into the palace gardens, which were now a symphony of cricket chirps and distant owl hoots. The usually stagnant summer air gave way to the night’s cool breeze that brushed against my cheeks and carried the scent of sweet clover and lilies in bloom.
The clover lawn tickled my ankles as I meandered past rose bushes and flower patches, over to the pond that always drew me toward itself. A heron unfurled its neck at my approach, but realizing I was no threat, tucked its head back beneath its wing.
I winced as Papa’s journal cut into my upper arm. I set it on a rock, sitting crossed-legged before the still water. My fingers rifled through the pages, the smell of ink and smoke rising, until I found the one I’d dwelt on only last night.
I drew in a measured breath.
The air was heavy with humidity as my hands hovered above the shore, aware of every wrong angle in my joints, of the way I’d appear out of my wits to any onlooker. In my head, I began the words of the spell—
“You’re doing it wrong.”
I shrieked and whipped my head around. The heron nearby jolted, then took off in flight.
I narrowed my eyes. “You scared the heron.”
Prince Thomas snorted. “He’ll be alright. Do you need assistance?”
He walked closer, then dropped to a seat beside me. His hair was ruffled, his eyes dark as they flicked over my thin robe before drifting to the starlit water.
Moonlight traced the sharp lines of his jaw and glinted against the spectacles that perched on his nose.
Suddenly, he turned to me, and I dropped my gaze to my hands.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
My mind raced to moments before, coming up blank. “I…”
“Do you want help?”
I glared. “How could you tell what I was doing?”
“You were either casting a spell—poorly, might I add—or you were trying to feed that sleeping heron by hand.”
“Was it that bad?”
He chuckled. “I apologize. I just meant… it’s clear you’re a beginner.”
My teeth ground together. “Thanks.”
He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, instead choosing to scratch the back of his neck. “I meant to pull you aside earlier.”
“Like you did in the hallway this morning?”
“Why are you being so combative?”
“Me? You abandoned me in the middle of our conversation.”
He furrowed his brow. “I thought we were done.”
“No, you were done. I was left behind and embarrassed.”
He picked up a pebble and skipped it across the water before it sank beneath the ruffled surface. “Sorry, I didn’t realize—”
“It’s fine. You’re a prince, so you can do whatever you’d like, of course.”
His body stiffened. “You’re absolutely correct.”
I fumed, watching the troubled waters finally still, my hands in tight fists at my sides.
He cleared his throat. “I, er, I wanted to thank you privately, earlier. About Stephen.”
I remained silent.
“You didn’t have to do that—help him, I mean.”
“Of course I did. He needed help.”
“You’re in charge of his chambers, aren’t you?”
I nodded.
“He’s shown me how you arrange his figurines. It really makes his day.”
I glanced down at my interlocked fingers. “I know he has a rough time in the palace.”
Prince Thomas pushed his glasses up his nose. “Between you and me, he might not be in the palace for much longer.”
“Oh?” My jaw tightened, remembering the callous words in the letter not meant for my eyes.
“But I wanted to thank you for what you did. Truly. I was about to step in when I realized you had it under control.”
“It was my pleasure.” The words came out bitter, and I pressed my lips together to keep from saying anything to jeopardize my position, or the peace of this moment.
“May I ask…” He hesitated.
I lifted my brows.
“Might I request that you keep what you saw—what you helped with—between you, Stephen and I? His condition…” He winced. “His condition is not something we want to publicize.”
My heart stirred with anger on Stephen’s behalf. There was so much I clearly didn’t understand about the royal family and its power-hungry dynamics. Despite that, no malice seemed to linger in Thomas’s eyes. Instead, they seemed pleading.
“Of course, Your Highness,” I said, confusion flooding my words.
“Thank you.”
I let out a breath. “I guess I ought to thank you as well.” He caught my eye. “Sincerely, this time,” I added. “For Asha. You didn’t have to—”
“She needed help.”
The solemnity in his voice, his echo of my very own words, made me fall silent again.
Cicadas chirped, and the air buzzed with an energy I wasn’t used to.
For a mere moment, I leaned closer toward the man I disliked more than any other in the palace.
It was if the moonlight cloaked our disdain in shadow, our flaws hidden by the night.
“I could teach you.”
I turned to him. His eyes didn’t meet mine as he stared out over the pond.
“I beg your pardon, Your Highness?”
“I could explain a few spells. If you don’t already have a master,” he added. “Just for the summer while I’m home.”
My mouth ran dry, my mind flashing to a pillar of water, crashing down in front of me. “And why would you offer a servant your valuable attention?”
His lips twitched. “I have some free time over the summers in between academic years. Tutoring will help me retain and master the knowledge I’ve gained.”
I waited.
“And… I would need something in return.”
I rolled my eyes. “But of course.”
“You can say no.” He craned his head toward mine. I became aware of the inches between us, of the fact that he could lean my way and press his shoulder against mine. That he was close enough to touch me if he so desired.
My breath caught.
“I…”
He held up a hand. “Let me explain the limitations of the offer first.”
The tension that had been building evaporated.
“First, it will need to remain private information. Don’t gossip about our one-on-one tutoring sessions with your friends or the deal will be off.”
“I do not gossip—”
“Second,” he interrupted, “You must pretend like I’m not a prince. I realize some of the maids gain unrealistic expectations…”
My nostrils flared. “Are you referring to your brother and El—”
He held up a hand. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
I crossed my arms with a huff.
“And finally, I will need your assistance in a personal project of mine. I’m supposed to be completing research for an academic treatise that could fast-track my certification...”
The very idea of working side-by-side with a mage like him, one talented enough to lead the council, one who could teach me all the secrets of the craft and unlock the abilities kept behind a wall within me…
“… with an emphasis on plague curses that must be kept top-secret—”
“Alright.” The words were out before I thought them through.
He blinked. “Are you positive?”
“As long as I can quit at any time.”
“Of course.”
“Then yes. Please teach me.” My lungs expanded; the air felt fresher, the world wider. I closed Papa’s journal with a soft thump, tucking it behind me before turning to him. “Where do we start?”