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“Your crown is crooked, Your Majesty.”
“Your other knife is under the water barrel.”
I cocked an eyebrow at the barrel, metal hoops gleaming. Even in the relentless heat, I knew the water inside would be cool and refreshing. Magic could be a convenient thing—if one was willing to pay the cost. I gave half a thought to wonder what the cost of keeping that water cool all day might be, and who paid it.
But instead of retrieving the knife, I strode forward and offered my brother a hand.
He stared at it, considering. Not at me, not at my face. Only at my proffered hand. For the space of a blink, fire danced at his fingertips.Oh, he wanted to burn me, did he?
That fire inside of him was always near the surface. Especially at a moment like this. I heard my father’s voice in my head, counseling wisdom and patience as he always had done when he visited the water garden compound. When he promised me that someday soon, I would be freed.
But it was the brother before me who’d unlocked my gate.
What neither of them realized was I’d freed myself from that gilded cage long ago. But some knowledge was meant to live in the dark.
In the time it had taken me to think about it, the flames disappeared. When he reached for my hand, his fingers were warm with the remnants of his power. But then, Arthur was always warm. How he did not melt in the sweltering heat of the Effren Valley was beyond me.
“You ought to be nicer to me. No one else with spar with you,” he said, dusting the red dirt from his close-fitting trousers. To no avail, as ever. Why he insisted on always wearing white…
“That is because the rest of your sentinels are cowards,” I said, smiling sweetly at the guards standing at equal intervals around the perimeter of the practice ring.
An ice-cold wind whirled through the courtyard, catching me underneath my draped skirt.Evander. I ignored my brother’s most hostile guard and his magical tantrum. His little wind felt nice against my sweat-drenched backside.
The others kept control of their magic. Gawayn rolled his eyes. Lyrena grinned even as she rubbed her forearm instinctively. The wound I’d given her while sparring days before had healed, but she was unlikely to forget it anytime soon. From the scowls on the other guards’ faces, it seemed neither were they.
Arthur ignored their glares. “I ought to make you one of them. They could learn from you.”
The strangled sound from behind me escaped neither of our notice. His cadre hated that idea even more than the prospect of facing me in the ring.
Arthur tipped the lid off the barrel of water, eyeing it longingly.
“Do not waste all that magic by pouring it over your head,” I said, knowing instantly what my brother was thinking.
He wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue instead.
“Very kingly.”
A half thought and two cups appeared in his hand. Whether he’d conjured them or summoned them or just very quickly pulled them from their hiding spot, I didn’t ask. I didn’t care. His magic, his cost.
“Speaking of kingly… your presence is required tonight.” His fingers touched mine as he handed me one of the cups, sending a spark of warmth into me. Even with sweat rolling down my back from our sparring, my fingers were cold. Always cold.
“Tonight?”
“Your attendance is requested,” he said, dipping the cup of water and drinking deeply. A convenient ploy to avoid any explanation.
I didn’t dip my cup. “Requested by whom?”
Arthur swiped a hand over his mouth, covering his telltale smirk as he said, “The terrestrial delegation, of course.”
A lie—and one I did not need my status as a twin to detect.
“What need does the terrestrial delegation, here to arrangeyourjoining, have of the spare?” I asked.
“Heir as well as spare, until my new bride accomplishes her duty,” Arthur said.
I nearly choked on the cool water and did succeed at sloshing it down the front of my tunic, plastering the thin gossamer to my chest. The cooling magic wouldn’t hold long now. It would turn sweltering in seconds.
“I was under the impression you’d been educated, even cloistered away in your little compound.” Arthur set his cup down neatly on top of the barrel. I’d never seen him throw it to the side, as so many of the warriors were wont to do. Who cared, when you weren’t the one to clean it up?
