“Wow.”
Cormal whirled, but it was like he’d known, somehow, like his instincts had actually recognized the voice before he could react, and he didn’t send a fireball flying at the Prince this time.
“I always wondered what you did in here.”
The door was still closed, so Cormal assumed Prince Kinan had come through it.
Cormal was still feeling itchy and tense, but this was the first time the Prince had voluntarily sought him out since Cormal had made his stupid comment about finding carnalions. He’d tried to explain that he hadn’t meant it like that, but the Prince hadn’t seemed to believe him.
He’d even brought his sister to turn the pages of the book, which should have made it easier for Cormal to concentrate on his own text, but it really hadn’t. (It had been good for everyone else, though, to see the Prince and Princess there, to remind them of just why it was that they were doing this every day. The Princess had very loudly mentioned to her brother in an icy tone that she had time to do this now that she didn’t have any picnics to attend, and Cormal had very carefully kept his mouth shut.)
“Why didn’t you come to see sooner?” he managed to ask.
He didn’t want to drive the other man off, not if he was talking to Cormal again. He really didn’t want to inspire both royal siblings to hate him and ignore him. It was harder to deal with than he would have expected.
“I couldn’t get that far away from Renny before. And now, well, the door was always closed.”
“The door’s closed now.”
“I could hear the yelling.” He shrugged. “Thought I’d better see what was going on.”
If Cormal chose to interpret that as “make sure you were all right,” then no one would ever know. It soothed something inside of him, even as he recognized that it was probably all in his head.
“Just having a temper tantrum,” Cormal admitted.
The Prince’s lips tipped up. “I see. Is there areasonyou’re having a temper tantrum?”
“So that I don’t burn down the castle by doing this anywhere else?”
The Prince still looked amused. “We all thank you for it. Just having a bad day?”
Cormal pressed his lips together. He wanted to lie—and knew that he couldn’t do it, not to the Prince, not about his own life. He swallowed.
“The Head Mage wrote back reporting no progress that could help us.”
“Ah.” He didn’t seem particularly surprised.
“You don’t sound very upset.”
“I can’t lob fireballs.”
“I could lob a few more for you, if you like.”
The Prince considered him for a moment, and then said, “Sure, go ahead.”
So Cormal lobbed a few fireballs, and before he knew it, he was yelling again, too.
“Cormal!”
He stopped, chest heaving. He turned back to the Prince, who was still standing by the door. He wouldn’t have done this in front of anyone else, and he wasn’t even sure why he’d done it now. Because Prince Kinan couldn’t be harmed by the flames, maybe. He might have done it with Brannal, once upon a time, but probably not since the man became Summus.
Really, the Prince was the most foolish person to allow to see him at his worst. And yet.
“Come with me,” Prince Kinan said.
And since he asked, Cormal went.
He followed the other man somewhat blindly until he found himself in the stables.
