“All of them are younger.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, they don’t feel a responsibility to keep me safe.”
“So no one’s wondering where you could be right now?”
“I didn’t say they weren’t wondering. I’m just saying they’re not blaring any alarms. However, if I don’t show up by tomorrow night, Izolda will certainly come looking for me herself.”
How depressing. If Naeva hadn’t explained that I wasn’t to be disturbed during my date with Lev, my grandfather would be canvasing all of Glace at the moment. Honestly, I’m a little surprised he didn’t do a fly-by to check on how my date was going.
Which, if I’m being honest, is why I’ve chosen to remain invisible.
I grimace as I realize how angry he’ll be when he learns that I lied. Then again, I’ve made a few discoveries and planted a listening sigil. Perhaps he’ll call me clever too? One can hope.
I catch Konstantin tracking my footprints in the snow, clearly still skeptical about my promise to remain at his side. “Have you come up with a good story for why you went for a solitary stroll through the woods, while wearing inadequate hiking gear?”
One of his eyebrows wings up. “Solitary?”
“If you mention I was with you, I’ll get into loads of trouble with my grandfather who believes me to be on a date with Lev.”
Konstantin’s jaw tightens. “I thought you were going to tell your parents about our findings.”
“I will, but they’ll keep my secret. If my grandfather finds out that I fibbed in order to wander around, he’ll glue himself to my person until I depart your kingdom.” With a touch of levity, I add, “Have you ever tried socializing and dancing with a big angry bird stuck to your backside?”
Konstantin’s mouth finally curls, not high, but high enough for his smile not to be confused with a grimace. “I can’t say that I have.” After a beat, he adds, “I’ll leave you out of the story I fabricate.”
“I know! You could claim a secretive tryst in the woods with one of the carnival performers.”
His brow notches up. “Trysts in the woods aren’t exactly my thing.” His hands join behind his back, stretching his perilously-tight shirt. “I suppose I could claim that I wanted to surprise Izolda by purchasing one of the costumes she spent so long designing.”
“And you ended up in the woods…why?”
He sighs. “Still trying to figure that part out. Ideas?”
“You had one too many of those delicious mead cocktails to make chatting with all your fans tolerable?”
The corners of his mouth twitch. “All my fans?”
I shrug. “Sofiya Patchenkov’s a fan.”
“A fan of my status.”
“Obviously. Who in their right mind would be a fan of your personality?”
That wins me a smile. A full-blow one. Dare I say I find the Ice King not so icy after all?
“I could conjure a more suitable outfit if you’d like? That way, you can say you went out for some fresh air and lost track of time.”
“That would be preferrable.” He stops and pivots sideways.
So do I. “Stick out your palm.”
Once he does, I place the shot glass inside to free both my hands, then pierce my finger on my earring and scan his shirt for the flattest patch, since one wrinkle could ruin my spell.
I opt for his pec and smooth the fabric over it. His pulse seems to kick harder as I carry my bleeding fingertip toward it. I want to reassure him not to be scared, but knowing my history with spellcasting, he should be on his guard. He’s as likely to end up ensconced in chainmail as he is in?—
No, no, no.
