I struggled to contain my relief. “I suppose it’s one for one, YourHighness.”
At that, amusement flickered across his expression. “Indeed.”
Our smiles mirrored one another’s for barely a moment—just enough to fill my insides with a strange warmth.
I reached down to play with my engagement ribbon.
“First to the library plays white?” Prince Stephen climbed to his feet unsteadily.
Prince Thomas’s face split into a grin, a sight I’d never seen, and one that made my own lips twitch. “You’ve made a grave mistake, Steph.” He spared a final glance my way before bolting down the hall. Prince Stephen laughed and gave chase, both disappearing around a corner and leaving me all alone.
In the silence left behind, I gathered the young prince’s strewn papers. The random fluttering in my stomach settled once more.
Thank goodness.
I missed David.
My eyes were drawn to an open letter on the floor. I picked it up and scanned the words inscribed upon the embossed parchment:
As I’ve said before, the prince has no malady at this time. It’s all in his head, my King.I’d urge palace staff to continue to monitor, and consider taking him officially out of the line of succession.
My stomach sank. Pressing my lips together, I folded the letter and brought the rest of Prince Stephen’s belongings to his room. I organized his desk one last time, tended his hearth, and turned back his coverlet.
I never expected to feel sorrowful for a spoiled, wealthy prince.
Yet as I straightened his tiny wooden knights, their hand-drawn jeers and painted spears, all I could feel was pity.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I tossed and turned in bed, my mind replaying the events of the day: Prince Stephen frozen with fear in the hallway, Prince Thomas leaning against the wall as he watched our interaction.
I thought about the words in the letter, not meant for Prince Stephen’s eyes, and certainly not for mine.
Did Prince Thomas know? How could he?
He was a famous healing mage. Surely he knew more about Stephen’s condition than the rest of his brothers.
And then there was Thomas’s disdain for Prince Theodore’s decision-making, their heated argument and the slammed door. He already viewed one brother as unfit for the throne. Had he taken part in the discussion to remove Stephen from succession as well?
Did he want to claim the crown for himself?
It irked me that he spoke to his own family that way. I couldn’t imagine raising my voice at Mama and Kelara, let alone little Asha.
But then again, the affection with which he’d slung his arm around Stephen’s shoulders and chased him down the hall—it would take someone truly skilled at pretending to act like that.
I slipped out of bed, the icy stone floors sending goosebumps upmy limbs. I pulled a thin robe around my shoulders and grabbed Papa’s journal. My fingers wrapped around the bundle of parchment as I felt my way down the corridor and up the stairs, where moonlight filtered in through the wide windows. The only soul in sight was the rare, familiar guard who nodded at me as I passed, the only sound the soft tread of my slippers against the carpet.
I wandered out into the palace gardens, which were now a symphony of cricket chirps and distant owl hoots. The usually stagnant summer air gave way to the night’s cool breeze that brushed against my cheeks and carried the scent of sweet clover and lilies in bloom.
The clover lawn tickled my ankles as I meandered past rose bushes and flower patches, over to the pond that always drew me toward itself. A heron unfurled its neck at my approach, but realizing I was no threat, tucked its head back beneath its wing.
I winced as Papa’s journal cut into my upper arm. I set it on a rock, sitting crossed-legged before the still water. My fingers rifled through the pages, the smell of ink and smoke rising, until I found the one I’d dwelt on only last night.
I drew in a measured breath.
The air was heavy with humidity as my hands hovered above the shore, aware of every wrong angle in my joints, of the way I’d appear out of my wits to any onlooker. In my head, I began the words of the spell—
“You’re doing it wrong.”
