“I was always fond of swordplay, but I became somewhat of a fanatic, borne of a need to defend my reputation. The Gallaean courtiers thought I was ‘delicate’, and I would not have my culture slandered as weak. I trained with soldiers, though I’d never officially join their ranks, occasionally spending weeks at a time in their camps.
“At the same time, Nic had grown fiery. He always wanted to fight, and swords were the one thing in which I found myself superior. Eventually I trained him, taking the bulk of his hatred and resentment for the world and honing it into the blade.” Quinn smiled at the memory. “There came a day when that wasn’t enough, and he sought me for confidence. I was the first person he’d ever opened up to.”
I wondered what could have happened to make the prince so bitter, but the viscount shook his head.
“In time, he’ll open up to you, too. Nic never put a lot of energy into women, so his attraction to you is difficult for him to navigate.” Quinn scratched the stubble along his jaw. “He’s my closest friend. I know how he feels about you. Don’t question his feelings just because he seeks relief elsewhere; he can’t have you until you’re wed, so he must find other ways.”
I wasn’t sure how that was supposed to make me feel any better. The tales of enduring romance never spoke of mistresses and courtesans.
“And trust me, my lady, it’s better this way.” He nodded, more to himself than to me. “There’s little awkwardness that can compare to bedding an over-eager virgin. At least he’ll be practiced.”
It struck me as rather unfair that he should be ‘practiced’ while I remained virtuous, but I supposed it was merely one more example of disparity for the books.
Chapter 15
Days later, whenI was at last summoned to the Tower of Mana, Quinn led the way.
It was hard not to notice his casual stride, the greetings exchanged between him and nearly everyone who passed by; I never would have known how out-of-place he was in Castle Altaigne if I hadn’t seen him now. He acted like he owned the place, which made sense; he outranked Lord Marius, making him highest on the ladder for nobility in Pontarena…unless one counted the rank of sorcerer, or “maitre” as they preferred, which held its own separate prestige.
Winnie watched him from behind, occasionally passing glances at me. Whatever she was thinking, she kept to herself, but I could see her jaw working until we reached the bridge leading to the tower. The wind blew with great force here, and below us were hundreds of jagged rocks and a churning sea. Were it not for the stone railings, it would be quite the dangerous crossing. I worried I might faint regardless of that protection.
“You certainly cozied up to the viscount last night,” Winnie finally said, her words carried away by the wind, audible only thanks to her proximity.
I blinked. We’d shared a dance and nothing more. “Did I?” Winnie raised her brows expectantly.
I would have to disappoint her. “I suppose the viscount has become a friend to me. He’s not nearly as bothersome as I believed him to be.”
“Only a friend,” Winnie replied. “Please be cautious of your reputation, Alana. Too many hints of affection between you and the viscount could easily be construed as something more.”
“Something more?” I gasped. “It was merely a dance!”
Winnie huffed. “Look, I’m hardly blind. The viscount is a handsome man, and you wouldn’t be the first to fall for his charms. I only mean to warn you that regardless of what actually goes on between the two of you, you must be conscious of how others might interpret your friendship.”
I narrowed my eyes. My hair whipped into my face until I pushed it back with irritation. Ahead of us, the viscount’s dark mane caught the wind, curling in the salty air. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The Tower of Mana loomed ahead, ominous in size and impossibly positioned. It jutted straight out from the ocean with no obvious foundation, the sun falling behind it so that the structure was a stark silhouette. As we entered through massive stone doors, we found Nicolas relaxed in the lobby, seated with a book in his lap.
“Ah,” he said, shutting the novel and rising to his feet. He tucked it under his arm, approaching the three of us with acknowledging nods. His eyes settled on me, not a drop of guilt present within them, but at least he didn’t let his gaze wander over my body this time. “Good afternoon, my lady. Quinn, Winnie, you may leave; I shall escort Alana from here.”
The viscount exchanged a meaningful look with Winnie. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but you’re within a sorcerer’s sanctum. Is it safe for the princess to be here unguarded?”
Winnie met my eyes, then hooked her arm through Quinn’s, tugging gently. “Come along. They must have some reason to be here; we should respect their privacy.”
Though he was reluctant, the viscount acquiesced and followed Winnie back into the wind. The heavy door shut itself behind them with ominous finality. I watched the space they had vacated, slowly turning to give the prince my attention. “I take it you arranged a meeting with one of the sorcerers?”
“A sorceress,” Nicolas specified, gesturing for me to follow. We proceeded to the chamber’s end and turned, entering a wide, winding hall that stretched into infinity. For such a massive structure, it was strangely hollow inside, with no evidence anyone lived there.
At the corridor’s end, we turned left and ascended a flight of stairs, finding ourselves in another large circular chamber. Onward and upward we went, and though I heard distant coughs and quietmutters echoing from somewhere above, I saw no sign of the tower’s inhabitants.
“So,” I said quietly, my voice carrying more than I’d have liked. The rest came even softer, barely a breath. “What were you reading?”
Nicolas bit his lip. “Do you actually want to know, or are we simply passing the time?”
“I’d like to know if I’ve read it myself.”
His brow raised. “It’s a romance. Of sorts.”
My lips curved up and I seized the book from under his arm, beholding the title. It was an erotic work of literature by the second half, with a plethora of steamy encounters. I’d read it a handful of times—always outside by candlelight, where my parents wouldn’t ask questions.
