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“It was an accident.”
“Like the dress?” Amartis asks.
I nod.
“No, sugarplum,” Pavonos says, “an accident is when I wake up next to a female I don’t remember spending the night with.”
“That’s called being drunk,” Amartis corrects. “An accident is when I spill my morning tea.”
“There’s more than one kind of accident,” I say. “Magical accidents happen all the time.”
Pavonos fixes his belt buckle. “Which is why those of us with powerful magic must train.”
“I conjure portals. Most fae conjure portals. There’s nothing powerful about it.”
“The prince married you. You must have something the royals want. Often, it’s magic.”
“They wanted certain heirs, not power, from me.”
The males exchange looks, and Amartis speaks. “You carry invasive battle magic. It feels wild and dominant.” Amartis’s eyes widen, telling us an idea struck him. “D’Artaron figured it out, and that’s why he’s keeping you.” Amartis shakes his head. “For that power-hungry king of his, I bet. If the king weren’t married, I’d say he’s keeping you for him.”
“The Summer prince is single,” I say.
They stare.
“What? I thought we were gossiping.” Prince El’jah is single.
Pavonos nods. “We are gossiping. Tell me more.”
Amartis grabs my shoulders. “Tell him later. Over tea. Now, pull your magic back and return the king’s portal to its place.”
The problem is that the harder I work on my magic, the more out of control it seems to get, and with the pressure of performance on the spot, the magic might even lash out and spread across the island. I don’t know. I don’t know why, suddenly, my magic has been going haywire. Perhaps it’s the stress of becoming a princess.
Still, I must pull it back.
On the wall, my portal starts to solidify and form a glass circle with jagged edges. The circle starts spinning, and the males place their bodies in front of me and push me back against the closed door.
“We need shields,” Pavonos says.
“Are you doing this?” Amartis asks me.
“Is that a trick question?”
“A simple yes or no,” he barks. “Is this your magic that’s crafting a weapon out of a portal that you stole from the Summer king?”
“That’s not what you asked initially, so don’t get smart,” Pavonos hisses.
Amartis counters, “Could you be any less helpful?”
A knock heralds D’Artaron’s arrival on the other side of the door. “Less talking. More working.”
“We’ve been found out,” I whisper-hiss, and my magic collapses. The portal that solidified into a glass chakram shatters, returning the floor to darkness again.
“We’ll cover for you,” Amartis says. “You just nod and smile at D’Artaron.”
D’Artaron knocks again. “I can hear you. Open up.”
The king’s shadow portal is missing. I’m in trouble.
