“Stop! You’re crushing them!” the child cried. She was across the courtyard in a flash, shoving me backward.
Not a hint of hesitation. She did not even look at me as she fell to her knees, then her elbows, wriggling her fingers at what I’d thought was a patch of moss. But before my eyes, they sprang back to life. Tiny star-shaped blue flowers. The color of Veyka’s eyes.
Maisri rocked back on her heels, staring at the blooms for a few moments before lifting her accusatory glare to me.
I started to step backward, stilled the motion, and put my hands up in outright submission. “I’m sorry.”
Her dark eyes widened—impossibly, how could anyone’s eyes get that big?—and then just as quickly as she’d moved before, she danced back across the courtyard to a little leather satchel I had not noticed before, resting near the gardenias she’d been attending to.
She tugged out a small book and what appeared to be a tiny bit of charcoal.
“What are you doing?”
Her eyes darted my way. This time, they were lined with mischievousness. “Writing down the date. Veyka will want to know.”
I caught the barked laugh halfway out of my throat, so that it came out a strange, strangled thing. Maisri seemed utterlyunbothered. She finished her scribbling and tucked her book back into its pouch.
“Saucy little thing, aren’t you?” I said, looking more carefully around me as I assessed an exit route.
She cocked her head the side, dark hair bouncing. “No.”
I’d never understood children, even when I had been one. At least this one wasn’t afraid of me. That was… something. I rubbed a hand over my still unshaven jaw. “Where is Osheen?”
She shrugged, moving away from the pillar of gardenias to examine what I thought was an already sufficiently festooned pillar of draping lilacs. Clearly, Maisri disagreed. Another flick of her hand, and more flowers burst into existence.
“He went out with the others on a hunting party for Imbolc,” she said over her shoulder.
The festival of females. A week away. I’d forgotten it entirely.
But if my mother was to be believed, Veyka would be gone by then.
I needed to speak to my mate.
I turned, only to have Maisri skip past me, deftly avoiding the patch of flowers I’d squashed and she’d so promptly repaired.
“Where are you going now?”
She paused, huffing with the annoyance that only children could get away with around a male called the Brutal Prince. “To find Veyka. I want to show her the lilacs. They are her favorite color.”
This child knew my mate better than I did.
Fuck me.
Even if I did love her, even if we were able to repair things, somehow… we had so far to go.
Maisri pursed her little lips, staring at me hard enough that I got the impression she was trying to see straight into my mind. “You truly do not remember anything?”
I swallowed. “I wish I did.”
She chewed her bottom lip as she considered. “I can answer your questions.”
I choked. “That… I do not think that would be entirely appropriate.”
She lifted her chin, staring down her nose at me with an impertinence that screamed of Veyka Pendragon. “I am a very good listener. Cyara said so.”
I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. “Well, if Cyara says so.”
She was blocking my way. I did not dare take another step into the training courtyard. I’d have to go back the way I’d come, up the staircase. Where Maisri stood poised on the bottom step.
