“Look, I brought you three books, but one of them belongs to a friend. You need to take excellent care of it and keep it hidden,” I said, my words hurried. “I haven’t looked through it, but if it’s what I think it is, you’ll get in trouble if anyone knows you have it.”
My father grabbed the small stack and tucked it in the corner of the sofa, hiding them behind a pillow. “Fine. But really, how are you?” His hand ran over my arm, and his eyes landed on the bruises.
“Oh, this?” I shrugged a shoulder. “You know how rude women can be. Add a male into the environment and someone’s bound to get hurt. I pushed one of them into a pond.”
My father laughed. “That’s my girl!”
The doorknob jiggled. Swiftly, I moved across the room, and untwisted the lock in the same moment that the door shoved in. Ryder looked down at me with narrowed eyes; his good mood had soured. He scanned over my shoulder, and I turned to find my father standing with a charming smile across his face.
“This is my father, Kenelm,” I offered sweetly, ignoring the prince's harsh glare.
Several moments passed while Ryder stared, trying to bend my father down into a bow with his mind; until he unknowingly submitted.
“Prince Sutton,” my father greeted and then bowed, his bad leg shaking from the shifted weight.
“What is your family name?” Ryder demanded.
My head snapped. “What?”
“It is Clair, sir—” my father stammered, “Your Highness.”
“And this is your residence?” Ryder walked through the living room and into the kitchen. He appeared as if he were looking for something or someone in particular.
“Yes?” My father looked nervously at me. I tried to force my face into something resembling pleasantness, but failed.
Ryder turned back, dragging his hand along a wooden countertop, bringing his fingers up for inspection and then flicking the dust from them. He moved to the small flowerpot sitting on the windowsill and examined the two pink peonies.
He rubbed his fingers over the petals, broke one head off and held it in his hand. Slowly, his stare met mine, and he crushed the peony in his palm. I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath before opening them; his gaze was locked on me. I blew out the breath and swallowed.
“What magic do you have, Kenelm?” Ryder’s head tilted.
I flinched. “You can’t ask him that! It is rude to speak of someone’s abilities.”
A cruel smile crept over his mouth. “But can’t I? Am I not the Prince of Rivale? Your future king?”
“It’s okay, Audryn,” my father said, his voice firm. “Your Highness, I am one of the few whose heritage betrayed them. The land turned its back on my father, and on me as well. I do not possess magic.” The lie was spoken smoothly, as if he’d been practicing it daily for years.
“Unfortunate,” Ryder drawled. “Do you have other children?”
“My daughter and I reside here,” he responded, not entirely a lie.
Ryder’s attention shot to the long table in front of the sofa and eyed the two mugs. “Was someone else here when we arrived?”
I immediately looked at the mug on the table. “It’s mine.”
“What were you drinking then?” Ryder walked toward me slowly.
My body stilled, and my mind went barren.
“Tea,” my father answered for me.
Ryder and I both went to snatch the mug, but he grabbed it first. “What type of tea, Audryn?” He shot a look at my father, sending a silent threat.
“A green tea,” I lied.
Ryder sniffed the contents of the cup before taking a drink. “Lavender.” He hastily dropped the mug onto the wooden table. The ceramic struck and toppled onto the floor. It broke apart into dozens of pieces, releasing the warm liquid. “Do you only lie about tea or do you prefer to lie about everything in your life?”
“I don’t understand,” my father muttered behind me. “What’s going on?”
