“You don’t think I’m handsome?”
“I think I’m not going to answer that, Your Highness.”
“I have a name,” he muttered.
“Which I’m not allowed to use.”
“I could make an exception.”
“That would not be the choice of a man wise beyond his years.” But I didn’t let go of his hand. I wouldn’t.
He sighed. “What other stories do you know?”
“There’s one about a cobbler and a dairymaid, but it’s a bit too coarse for your delicate princely ears.”
“I was in the damned army. Bawdy stories were our coin. But if you’re too shy to tell it, tell me a story about you. About growing up.”
“I only have a few memories of life before I arrived at the Lady’s manor. Mostly images of the last few months with my father. Everything before that is gone.”
“Gone? You don’t remember anything of your childhood?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry for that. You said your father had the traveling sickness?”
“Yes. He taught me to steal before he died—a final gift to help me stay alive. Don’t be noticed. Don’t take more than you need. Don’t take from those who need it more than you.”
“He sounds like a good man.”
I looked at him. “Even though he was a thief?”
“Once upon a time, my ancestors destroyed four countries to make Carethia. He wanted you to stay alive. Your father taught you how to live; our father taught us how to die.” The prince looked over at me. “If a coin in the market from someone who wouldn’t miss it was the price to be paid for your survival, I think it’s a fair one.”
I didn’t know what to say. I’d never have expected a Lys’Careth to approve of my being a thief. As much as I preferred to deny it, he wasn’t what I’d assumed him to be. Maybe he’d reached the same conclusion about me.
“Do you ever wonder what came before your father?”
I paused, but he’d been honest with me, so I would be honest with him. Maybe, in the darkness, where we were just people who’d once been children, who’d seen the grim reality of the world, we could be honest with each other. We had thefreedomto be honest with each other.
“I’ve been having dreams since the Aetheric practitioner. Me at home. My mother on the ground. A lot of blood. My father picking me up and carrying me away.”
“You think your mother was killed?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I’m still not certain if they were memories or just nightmares. Parts of them felt familiar, but they haven’t…replaced the empty spots in the bookshelves of my mind.”
He made a sound of amusement. “Talia said you’d been at the library.”
“It’s a gods-damned mess. Your half brother didn’t do you any favors there. You could probably hire Wren to fix it.”
“Oh?”
“I think she’s offended by the disorder.”
“That seems…very Wren.”
Quiet fell, our fingers linked together as blossoms moved in the breeze—and a bright blue star shot across the sky.
“A harbinger,” I said. “The ghostfinders say a falling star means an Anima will bring you trouble soon.”
