“You know, I don’t think His Highness would mind a bit of beheading, just for morale.”
I rolled my eyes. “You aren’t going to kill me. If you really wanted me dead, you could have thrown me to the bandits.”
“But then I wouldn’t have the pleasure of doing it myself.”
I curled my lip. “Wren is a lot like you.”
Galen frowned. “A soldier?”
“A violence enthusiast. Do you want this or not?”
He probably wanted to poke me with the sword. But he was a man with a strong sense of honor—if usually aimed in the wrong direction. After a moment, his shoulders dropped. “Fine. You bested me.”
“Thank you,” I said, and offered him the bracelet. He snatched it back and turned away to reattach it.
“You meet the most interesting people,” Red murmured to the prince, his gaze narrowed in puzzlement as he watched us.
“I really do,” the prince said.
“I didn’t know the pivoting trick,” I told Red with a smile. “Thanks for the lesson.”
Red put his hands on his hips. “To be honest, I’m a little worried about what it will be used for.”
“I don’t look for trouble,” I said. Not really. “But I’m a servant. Some people think that means we aren’t worthy of respect or decency. This could save my life someday.”
“In that case, I hope you never find yourself needing to use it.”
“I should let you get back to work. Thanks for the lesson.” I smiled at Galen. “And use a square knot on that cord. Makes it harder to steal.”
He growled like a dog, and my heart swelled with joy.
Twenty
Luna didn’t visit that night, which worried me. She’d been so angry the night I’d come to the palace. Was she avoiding me? Or had she been angry enough to get herself into trouble? I didn’t like either idea.
The most productive thing I could think to do here was search the prince’s library for information. Surely Lys’Careths had books about the Aetheric. Maybe how to stop an Aetheric possession, how to best a practitioner, how to turn pebbles into gold coins.
I was munching a breakfast apple and preparing to make my way there when there was a knock at the door.
The prince stood in the doorway, resplendent in a calf-length coat of navy blue with a high collar, his hair pulled back efficiently at the temples. He looked ready for a day of royal challenges, whatever those might be.
Behind him, Galen glowered.
“Do you ever smile?” I asked, and took a bite of apple.
He gave me a thin, pretentious one.
“Glowering’s better,” I concluded, and shifted my gaze to the prince. “Your Highness.”
“Fox. I’m here on official business.”
“Did you catch him?”
“The practitioner? No. Not yet. I’m hosting a party tonight.”
I lowered my apple. “A party? With a damned assassin running around?”
“He probably won’t be running here,” the prince pointed out. “And the party was planned before I arrived. It’s to celebrate my investiture. And since there are apparently rumors that I’m dead, I’m loath to cancel.”
