“I noticed a problem.” I pointed to the western wall—a handy distraction. “There’s a hole in the roof above this section, and here,” I traced the slope again, “the glacis is sagging. Probably erosion from water getting in.”
“You seem awfully interested in my walls.”
It sounded temptingly close to a joke.
“Both types,” I said, smiling, “but only the stone and mortar one is showing signs of weakness right now…unfortunately.”
For a long moment, Emrys regarded me with a sidelong glance. I worried I’d misread him, but his scarred lips sent me a half-smirk before he refocused on the plans.
His hand moved close enough to nearly brush mine and hovered there. Neither of us visibly reacted, but our magic touching charged the space between us with vibrations that niggled at my sixth sense like a million tiny wings beating the air.
As if he’d felt the same charge and was already trying to avoid it, Emrys moved away quickly, dropping into the chair on the other side of the tablewith a soft sigh. He was guarded again, but for once he wasn’t rigid. I hadn’t yet seen him so physically at ease.
“People walk past that slope a dozen times a day,” he eventually said, eyes stubbornly focused on the plans. “They haven’t mentioned it.”
I hesitated but spoke the truth anyway. “Maybe they just haven’t mentioned it toyou.”
That made him pause. His eyes found mine, and for a heartbeat, he looked a bit guilty. “That area’s been damaged for nearly a year now.” A bitter note crept into his voice. “But we hadn’t thought of problems with the land underneath the structure.”
Buoyed by his surprisingly normal tone, a welcome change, I explained. “I’m not an expert, but this seems like it could become a serious issue. Years ago in Caervorn, a building with a family inside was swallowed by a failing riverbank. Now the Assembly sends an ice mage out to shore up the banks of the river every time high rains come.” The memory was still terrifying. I didn’t want something like that happening here.
“If it collapses here, with that steep slope…” His gaze didn’t leave mine. He tapped the map, slower this time. “We could lose the entire wing.”
Even if I couldn’t read him, it felt like Emrys was doing more than just hearing me; he was with me in that rare and precious way that makes a person feel seen.
“And how would you fix it?” He leaned in, shoulder brushing my arm, his breath a whisper against my skin.
I should’ve been focused on the map, but all I could think was how easily I could lean into that comfortable warmth if I just sat beside him.
Focus, Isca!
I swallowed. “I’m no engineer. Stop the erosion. Redirect the water. Reinforce the slope. Definitely stabilize the foundation before anything happens.”
“Reasonable,” he murmured, tapping the same spot on the plans again. I couldn’t tell if he was humoring me or seriously considering fixing it. Honestly, either was progress.
Worried that silence might give him an excuse to slink away again, I asked, “What happened to that wing, anyway?”
His faint smile faded into a bitter, self-deprecating grimace. “Me.”
“Oh.” My voice was small.
Shame showed in the slump of his shoulders and tight lines of his jaw. I should’ve noticed it sooner. I’d been relying too much on my magic to know how others were feeling. Time to change that.
“I’ve been told you’re magically gifted,” I said carefully. “If you can find an engineer, maybe they can tell you exactly where to move the construction materials to fix it without putting men’s lives at risk under the foundation.”
He stared, his expression unreadable.
I squirmed under it. “Sorry. When I find a solution, I tend to push. I hate seeing something so beautiful…threatened. Caervorn, parts of the fortress, are crumbling, and the Assembly does nothing about it.”
My nervousness was so intense that, by the end of my short speech, my dress was sticking to my chest from sweat. While spending time with Emrys was a nice change from the constant influx of others’ emotions, he still made me nervous in ways I didn’t want to admit.
I couldn’t shake the weight of his perceived judgment—or how much I cared about it.
His expression was stony, just like it had been back at my market stall. “You want the prince to act as a laborer?”
I met his eyes, prepared to backpedal. I didn’t want to lose this. We were having a real conversation. “No… I mean, yes.” I fumbled for an argument that might make my mundane suggestion sound more regal. “Why not? If nothing else, it would demonstrate your fitness, the strength of your house.”
The jagged scar that split his lip twisted into a lopsided grin. Somehow that made the flash of mischief in his eyes spark even brighter. “My fitness?” He leaned back, smug. “My people can see my work in the training yard onany given day.” He gave me a look that was pure heat. “You seemed to enjoy the show.”
