CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I groaned as I hoisted a pile of books onto the desk in the servants’ study. The small, cramped space was no bigger than a closet. But for the next hour, it was mine.
Thomas had begun sending Caleb down regularly with piles of books and documents for me to sift through, all to log plague victims’ backgrounds: class, ethnicity, location, skillsets.
He’d asked me to search for anything that could possibly link the fatalities together.
In return, I would hand Caleb my findings, all pulled from copies of physician notes, letters from healing mages, and more.
So far, the work had been tedious, but I pressed on. I couldn’t bear the thought of sabotaging Thomas’s work when it seemed so important. Not when the very illness that had taken so many lives was the one he was working to understand.
And so I flung myself into it wholeheartedly, too.
My eyes were heavy, the letters on the page blurring. I rubbed slow circles into my cheeks, hoping the rush of blood would be enough to keep me awake this evening.
No pattern had emerged yet, but I continued on. Maybe by the end of the summer, we’d have a lead on the cause of the plague that still hung over Amouridia like a heavy cloud, sending cruel lightning to strike its people down without warning.
When I snuck out of the palace, a chill wrapped around my body underneath my thin nightdress.
Despite the cool evening, summer was in full bloom—the green of the trees was lush and vibrant, and a rainbow of blossoms blanketed the soil.
The sweet scents of trumpet lilies and honeysuckle filled the air.
I pulled my robe tighter across my chest.
“So who's the man you walked the gardens with this afternoon?” Prince Thomas called as I approached the pond.
I stumbled, righting myself immediately.
“Not that it’s any of my business,” he admitted. He shuffled a few books around in his hands.
“It really isn’t,” I said.
I reached the pond, lingering at its edges, intimately aware of the distance between the prince and me.
I didn’t want him any closer. When he came near, my thoughts were muddled, my stomach churning. It was nothing like the calm David’s presence provided, or at least had usually provided, ignoring his insensitivity lately.
Everyone had bad days. Today was David’s.
Prince Thomas studied my reaction, and even under the waning moon, warmth crept up my neck from his stare.
“What did you see?” I asked.
I made out a smile on his face. “Enough.”
“He’s my fiancé.”
A book tumbled from the prince’s hands, clattering against the rocks below and into the pond.
I kneeled to pick it up for him. His hand took it from me, his fingers lingering against mine for a second too long. I let go.
“I didn’t know you were engaged.”
I lifted my wrist, the purple ribbon dangling in the stiff evening air.
He squinted. “And that is…?”
My mouth dropped open slightly. “You really know nothing about commoner customs?”
His eyes flashed in the darkness. “It can’t be all that common. Caleb, do you know what that little ribbon means?”
Caleb shuffled in the darkness, tucked within the shadow of one prominent hedge. “It’s an engagement ribbon, Your Highness.”
The prince muttered something under his breath. “I apologize,” he told me. “Your accusations ring true again.”
“Apology accepted,” I said, more amused than angered at his ignorance this time. I tilted my head. “Does my being engaged change anything?”
He shook his head. “No, of course not, I just…”
“Just…?” I held my breath.
He swallowed. “I just didn’t know.”
“Well, now you do.”
His hand darted up to adjust his spectacles. “Indeed.”
He fell silent. Caleb gave a light cough, breaking the oddly tense silence that had settled between us.
“So what shall I practice today?” I asked, thankful for the interruption.
“Well, we can continue practicing the water elements, but I’d actually prefer to test you on one more textile-inspired skill.”
Irritation rubbed against my chest. “Oh?”
“It’s clear you are a talented mender,” he said. “How do you fare with fabric forming?”
I winced. For a textile mage, even I had my limits.
“It is very difficult.” I reached up to adjust my kerchief, one of the few clothing items I’d made myself.
It had taken two months of focused practice every evening to form it fiber by fiber.
“I seem to…” my voice wavered. “I seem to lack any particular talent, even in my specialty, Your Highness.”
I swallowed under his scrutiny, under the weight of his judgment. I didn’t need more shame heaped upon my head. I had plenty of my own.
“There might be a reason for that, Lyranore.” He fumbled through a book’s pages, pulling out a piece of parchment that he had tucked within. “This shall be quick. I have a theory I want to test.” He ripped it in half, the sound splitting the air.
I raised my brows.
He placed the pieces in one hand, the jagged torn edges barely touching, then snapped. With a small flash, like the crackle of violet embers, the parchment joined together again.
“Impressive,” I said flatly. We’d already established I was a talented mender. I could complete that task in my sleep.
His eyes held a twinkle. He held the parchment out to me. “Now rip it again.”
I reached out to take it, but he pulled it away.
“With your magic,” he elaborated.
I narrowed my eyes. “No one does that.”
“And why not?”
I spluttered. “No one needs to. Why rip things? I’m in the business of fixing them.”
He nodded. “I’m a healing mage. I understand your reasoning completely.”
“So why assign me a meaningless task?”
A corner of his lips tilted upward. “Just try it.”
I rolled my eyes and looked at the parchment. The prince’s specialty was not textiles—I could tell by the rough scars that marked where the paper had torn before.
I’d show him.
I stepped closer. My hands hovered in the air above the parchment, my body fully aware of Thomas’s eager scrutiny.
I could show him… couldn’t I?
I gathered my nerve and forced my mind to focus on the parchment trembling in the night’s breeze, on the moonlight that bathed us both, on the subtle scent of paper and ink that must be coming from Prince Thomas.
How long did he spend in the palace library to constantly smell of books?
Prince Thomas cleared his throat, and my eyes flicked open. His expression held amusement. “Thank you for trying. I just had to test something.”
My cheeks heated. “I wasn’t finished.”
“Of course,” he said. “Perhaps you can continue to practice outside of our sessions, and let me know if you succeed.”
My nostrils flared. “I will,” I said.
“Good.”
I snatched the parchment from him, folding and tucking it in the pocket of my robe.
He watched in amusement before leaning down to grab one of his many books, flipping it open to the same water enchantment we’d tried several times.
The one I’d already used to cause bubbling waters and steaming surfaces.
“Let’s begin here.”