CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“And that’s the history of the legality of domestic magic.”
My body jerked and my eyes fluttered open. I clapped weakly, my body slumping further against the boulder. “Incredible.”
He grinned. “I appreciate that.”
I rubbed my fingers down my cheeks. “Prince Thomas—Your Highness,” I said gently. “When I asked where we were going to start, I had meant which spell you wanted me to practice.”
He furrowed his brow. “Theory comes before magic, Lyranore.”
I fluttered my fingers, a slight yellow shimmer hovering in the air between them. “I’ve been managing just fine.”
“I beg to differ, textile mage.”
Something within me sparked. “I beg your pardon?”
He fidgeted with his glasses. “I simply mean you obviously lack experience in any significant magic.”
I exhaled sharply. “Typical.” I got to my feet. “I don’t know why I expected any differently.”
He stiffened. “Did I say something wrong?”
I laughed bitterly. “No, Your Highness. Of course not.”
“It seems as if you are angry with me.”
“Not at all.” I smoothed out my nightgown, then took Papa’s book in my arms. “On second thought, Prince Thomas, I am not sure this arrangement is for the best.”
His brow creased. “Miss Lyranore…”
I held up a hand. “No,” I said. “Do not worry your crowned little head. I think I’d prefer to tutor myself.”
He rolled his eyes. “Could you get over yourself?”
I snorted. “Irony of ironies.” I strolled away from the pond.
“I’ll be here tomorrow evening,” he called after me. “If you change your mind.”
“Not likely,” I yelled without sparing a second glance.
I pulled the leather case tighter to my chest.
Looks like it shall be the two of us against the world again, Papa, I thought to myself.
I never looked back for the prince’s reaction. Why should I have?
I was just another commoner to him—an ignorant, untalented commoner.
And I would prove him wrong on my own.
Come on.
The tea’s surface remained still as the other chambermaids chattered around me. My fingers twisted beneath the surface of the table as I whispered underneath my breath.
Bubble.
Nothing changed, my own reflection as disappointed as I expected.
Steam, at the very least?
I buried my face in my hands.
“You alright?” A scullery maid, Leila, placed her bowl on the table next to me.
“Fine,” I muttered.
Her eyes flicked to my plate, my buttered toast still untouched. “You planning on eating that?”
I shook my head, my stomach turning.
Her lips curled as she reached for it. “Thank goodness.” Her shoulders wiggled at the mountain of food on her plate.
My head still throbbed from the late night lecture.
I looked over at the scullery maid, blinking rapidly in between aches.
I’d seen her around plenty in the palace, but never stopped to chatter.
She seemed to be just entering womanhood, and was likely starving with growing pains.
I passed over my whole plate, fruit and all.
“Have this, too.”
“Thanks, Lyra,” she said through a mouthful of oatmeal.
I rose to my feet. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“Don’t stay out so late.”
I froze.
Leila smiled. “Saw you coming in last night. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell Mrs. Calloway. She’s irked enough about Ella.”
I sank back down beside her.
“What were you up to?”
I glanced at the other maids, all lost in conversations of their own. “Nothing.”
She snickered, tearing my former toast in two. “Likely. Well, whatever it is, in all my time at the palace, I’ve never seen you so passionate. Rambling under your breath like that.”
I squinted at her. “I was angry.”
“I’ve never even seen you like that with your fellow... what’s his name? Daniel or something?”
“David.”
“Yes. Did you sneak out to visit your parents?”
“No.”
She shrugged. “It was nice to see you all passionate-like. I wasn’t sure you had it in you before.”
My jaw tightened. “I am plenty passionate.”
“Good.” She mopped up leftover syrup with the last bit of toast. “Keep doing what you’re doing then.”
The bench creaked as I stood and left her snickering behind me.
Silly child.
I never should’ve given her my toast—it was just inviting strangers’ opinions.
I stormed up the steps, into the palace gardens. My chest heaved with the fresh, summer air.
Duties would have to wait a few moments.
I continued past the flower bushes, the hedges, the visitors who didn’t spare a servant a second glance.
And stopped at the stupid, ever-present pond.
I reached a hand out, closed my eyes, and willed with all my heart to lift the water.
Above my head, into the heavens, I told it. Higher than him and all his pompous airs.
When I opened my eyes, the center of the pond had begun to lift. My chin lifted, excitement fluttering in my chest. I whirled around to see if anyone noticed a mage in their midst.
I paused at a familiar figure watching from a nearby bench.
My shoulders fell.
Prince Thomas sat, his mouth in a straight line, one hand lifted and fingers curled. When I met his gaze, he dropped his arm.
I didn’t have to look behind me to know that the water fell, too.
I had not achieved the skill. I had done nothing.
“I can teach you,” he said, his voice quiet. Its quietness only irked me further.
There was such a commanding air about him. Like he knew I’d eventually obey.
A guard stood behind him, his stare hard.
I returned the glare. “No.”
“See you tonight, Lyranore.”
Was he deaf?
I didn’t answer, marching away, fists clenched at my sides.
Stupid princes. Stupid men. Stupid young girls who think they know better than their elders.
I seethed.
I had work to do today.
Not all of us could sit in the gardens spying on chambermaids and their pitiable ambitions.