“Thank you,” Elowen told Simeon earnestly, speaking quickly. She likely didn’t have long before she would be chivvied onto her horse whether she liked it or not. “You saved my life, and Sophia’s, and I’m incredibly grateful.”
“You needn’t thank me, Your Highness,” he told her, his head bent deferentially and his form sagging a little. “I’m honored to be of service to you.”
She disregarded these expected niceties. “Are you well, Simeon? You seem to have been hit particularly hard by that enchantment.”
“I…Yes, I’m well, Your Highness.”
But Elowen had caught the moment of hesitation, and she frowned. Simeon’s brow was furrowed, the worried expression unfamiliar to her.
“What’s on your mind?” she pressed him. “Please speak freely.”
“It’s probably nothing, Your Highness,” he said.
“But…?” she prompted.
His eyes drifted over his shoulder, back toward the tower. “Something felt strange about the magic generated by the tower’s collapse. It didn’t respond as I expected, which is why my energy is more depleted.”
“Strange how?”
The question had been on the tip of Elowen’s tongue, but she wasn’t the one who uttered it. Patrick had appeared unnoticed behind her, and his expression was keen as it rested on the servant.
Simeon straightened, his tone becoming even more respectful as he addressed the prince.
“I’m not entirely sure, Your Highness.”
“Just do your best to explain what you experienced. You needn’t try to have all the answers.” Knowing him as she did, Elowen could tell that Patrick was making an effort to be reassuring. He still sounded stern.
Simeon nodded slowly. “Yes, Your Highness. I only meant that there was a lot of movement. But there wasn’t a lot of magic. At least…not a lot available to me.”
“What do you mean, not a lot available to you?” Patrick’s voice was sharper now, and Elowen looked between him and the servant in confusion. Why was her brother so tense?
“I sensed a relatively small amount of magic.” Simeon smiled deferentially as he explained himself. “But perhaps I overestimate my abilities of assessment.”
“Perhaps so,” Patrick said thoughtfully. “Were you formally trained in magic craft by the Craftsmen’s Guild?”
Simeon shook his head. “No, Your Highness. I was trained by a tutor, by the generosity of His Grace.”
Sophia shifted slightly beside Elowen at the words, but she made no comment.
“Ah, I see.”
Patrick’s tone seemed to dismiss the subject. Elowen had the impression that her brother had decided that Simeon’s inferior training explained any problems he’d had with the magic he harnessed. She didn’t believe it though, given how consistently she’d seen Simeon manipulate magic with ease. Usually for Bertrand’s benefit.
The viscount had pushed his way through the guards, and he chose that moment to insert himself into the conversation.
“Are you still making a fuss, Simeon? Surely we’re ready to depart by now.”
“I’m ready to travel, My Lord,” Simeon said. “I apologize for inconveniencing the group.”
“Not at all.” Patrick waved a magnanimous hand. “You’ve acquitted yourself well, young man.”
The epithet was comical to Elowen. If Simeon was younger than Patrick, it would only be by a couple of years. But Patrick was like that. He never exploited his position for his own gain, but he always seemed to converse with others from the height of his status. Sometimes she wondered if it made him feel lonely.
“If you need more time to recover, a guard can stay behind with you,” Patrick added.
“Thank you, Your Highness, but I’m well,” Simeon insisted.
“I’ll see to my servant, Prince Patrick,” Bertrand told the prince reassuringly. “You needn’t concern yourself with the details.” He sent a reproving look at Simeon. “There’s no need for you to keep addressing the prince, Simeon, try to behave with decorum.”
