To be safe, he’d send her the biggest jar he could find, whether she wanted him to or not.
Ms. Bonner crested the top of the stares, and they both held their breath as the woman pulled out her keys to unlock the classroom door. Violet’s eyes went comically wide when the bag of seed tumbled off the ledge, narrowly missing Ms. Bonner on the way down.
The older woman dropped her bag on the floor and screamed. The loud sound sent the four chickens fluttering like crazy. Feathers were everywhere, along with droppings, and Roman guessed the stench alone would shut down classes for an entire week.
“Good heavens!” their teacher shrieked and bolted back into the hallway, forcing Violet and Roman to jump out of the way.
When one chicken followed Ms. Bonner into the hall, Violet tried to flee, but Roman banded his arm around her waist to stop her, not wanting her to miss anything.
The chicken sped after the older woman, and Roman leaned down close to Violet’s ear. “Do you think he’ll catch her?”
Violet snickered and whispered back, “I hope so. She could use a good peck or two.”
Much to their dismay, two guards hurried down the hall to investigate the commotion and stepped in front of Ms. Bonner to save her from the impending assault.
One of the guards picked up the chicken, approached the school room, and cursed. “Send for a farmhand,” he instructed the other guard as he deposited the runaway chicken inside the room and shut the door. “I’ll alert a maid.”
Once both guards and Ms. Bonner were out of hearing range, Roman and Violet burst out laughing.
“Did you see her face?” Violet wheezed, her nose crinkling as she laughed.
Roman’s gaze snagged on a familiar figure over Violet’s shoulder, and he nearly groaned out loud. His mother stood down the hall watching them, but instead of the anger he expected, she appeared curious.
The queen’s eyes jumped from Violet to Roman, and when they met his, her curiosity morphed into something that looked a lot like sadness.
5
ELEVEN MONTHS LATER
Roman sat tucked away between the dark bookshelves in the palace library, studying the massive book on Eden’s wars throughout the years. It was interesting, but not interesting enough to hold his attention for longer than half an hour.
His father expected excellence, and Roman spent most of his free time studying or fighting. Weekly dinners with the Maekins became his favorite pastime, and he often found himself counting down the days until he could disappear into their cozy cottage for a few hours.
When tucked away in the privacy of the Maekins’ cottage, there was no one to observe him, waiting for him to screw up. Violet had become one of his best friends, and knowing she’d be in his life, despite the reason, made him happier than he’d like to admit. He smiled to himself.
Muttering laced with frustration caught his attention, and he looked around for the source. Something familiar nibbled at his mind. Curious, he stood and followed the grumblings around the impossibly tall bookshelf behind him. The very object of his thoughts sulked on the other side with a book and an array of papers scattered around her.
He grinned as she righted an overturned inkwell, spewing more curses that would scandalize his mother. “You’re supposed to keep the ink inside the jar.”
Violet’s head snapped up with slitted eyes. “Hilarious.” She stared helplessly at the mess in front of her and used extra papers to sop up the ever-spreading goo. Giving up, she dropped her head into her hands. “I’m never going to finish this in time.”
Roman moved closer to the disaster and tried to make sense of the chaos smeared across the pages. “Finish what?”
Violet dropped her hands and said something, but he heard nothing when he took in her appearance. The laugh that exploded out of him couldn’t be helped, and much as he tried, it couldn’t be ebbed either.
“It’s not funny,” she snapped. “I don’t understand the arithmetic.” She pointed at the ink-soaked paper, “and now I can’t read my notes.”
Roman moved around the table, biting back his laughter the best he could. “You have ink all over your face.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
Roman picked up her arm. “Your hands.”
She looked at the ink covering her hands. “Could today get any worse?” she wailed, eyeing the ink stains on her dress. “I just made this.”
“Here.” Roman stripped out of his shirt and tilted her chin to look at him. He ran the white cloth over her forehead and cheeks. The black liquid smeared, but after switching to clean areas of the shirt a dozen times, most of it came off, leaving only a dark tint on her tan skin. “That’s as good as I can do without water.”
Her chin still in his hand, Violet’s eyes pierced his, and a quiet moment passed between them. Roman’s breathing picked up, and he didn’t understand the feeling in his chest, having only experienced one other time: the night of his thirteenth birthday, when he saw her on the balcony in her flower crown and purple dress.
