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“What’s wrong with your rock?” I ask.
He backhands a mosquito near the pointed tip of his ear. “I’m hoping these bloodsucking bastards will notice you and leave me alone.”
A laugh spills from my lips. His discomfort here gives me great pleasure, and I don’t bother hiding it.
His eyes narrow. “This game has gone on long enough, Princess. What are we doing here?”
“Enjoying the sun.” I grin wide as I say this; I’m pretty sure he hates the sun. “Also, I hate that nickname.”
One side of his lips quirk up. “The nickname stays.” He leans close, his arm brushing mine, and peers into my eyes. “So, Princess, what’s to stop me from glamouring you into telling me this secret plan of yours?”
“What’s to stop you from glamouring me into doing a lot of things?” Holy crap, why does that sound so dirty?
He settles his hands on his splayed knees and glares at the forest below. “Fine. We’ll stay here and fail. It’s not like my father expects me to win the cup anyway.”
There’s something in his voice that gives me pause. My heart skips a beat. Never once has he mentioned his father in any of our stilted, two word conversations. Curious, I try to get more out of him. Carefully, of course.
“He doesn’t care how you do at the academy?” I ask.
“Oh, he cares. But only when it comes to certain areas.”
“The combat side?”
His razor-edged jaw goes taut. “Anything that requires the use of power to win, I had better win.”
“Like the Wild Hunt?” I say, referring to the end of year test. We’ve just started the training and everyone is freaking out about it.
He peers into the horizon. “Exactly.”
“And if you don’t win?” I ask.
“That never happens.”
Arrogant much? But I don’t roll my eyes like I want to. Arrogance aside, he’s actually opening up. “So that’s why you had to follow through on the Nocturus with Rhaegar? Some sort of power trip?”
He regards me through his dark lashes, a muscle twitching in his temple. “That was different. I was protecting you from Rhaegar. He’s dangerous.”
I’m too stunned at first to say much. Rhaegar, dangerous? Besides, the prince makes it clear on a daily basis he despises me. Why would he care if I was hurt?
“What if I don’t need your protection?”
He chuckles, the sound low and throaty. “Like with the orc?”
Touché. “Okay, fine. But can I ask you something?”
He pauses from picking bits of dried mud from his no doubt outrageously expensive black boots. “Haven’t you been for the last five minutes?”
“How did you know I was in trouble? In the forbidden library?”
He sighs, his bowed lips pressing together as he straightens. “I felt it—your fear.”
“Felt it?” Adrenaline floods my senses as I remember being inside his head, feeling his emotions. Was it like that for him too?
Oh my God. What if he could see inside my head?
“What else do you feel when you’re around me?” I ask, digging for the truth. “Anything . . . weird?”
What I really want to ask hovers on the tip of my tongue: Do you experience an inexplicable sense of familiarity when we’re together, Prince? Does your heart feel close to exploding whenever I’m near? Do you ever dive straight into my head on accident—or on purpose?
