Elowen completed her own preparations in confused distraction. What exactly had she done wrong to turn him from the warmer Theo she’d been so fascinated by to the polite prince of before?
If it wasn’t so wildly inconsistent with what she knew of him, she would have suspected Theo of trying to lure her by blowing hot and cold, as she’d seen some of the more skillful flirts in herfather’s court do with such success. Not that his manner could be called hot even at its warmest. In any event, Theo’s changing moods didn’t repel her. If anything, they just increased her desperation to understand him, and she found herself impatient to get to the tournament field.
There was no opportunity for private speech with Theo during the weapons event, but Elowen didn’t mind. She had enough to occupy her in watching him from the royal family’s section of the stands. She could hardly take her eyes off him as he performed much better than she’d expected. He was skilled and confident with a sword, and she felt her lips curl in a smile of girlish satisfaction as she watched him best his first opponent within minutes. Cheering for one’s champion was part of a princess’s duty, after all. And it was pleasant, especially if you didn’t actually get to choose your champion, to discover that he was worth cheering for.
She was relieved not to see Bertrand competing in that round, or even watching from the stands. His absence was a welcome relief. She was vaguely aware of the favorites for this event, and she didn’t see any of those in Theo’s opponents. But he capably beat every man he fought, his movements graceful and fluid in a way he rarely was in social interactions. Confusion leaked in to complicate Elowen’s satisfaction as she watched his performance.
She felt like she was living a strange dual existence. In face-to-face interactions with Theo, she was constantly frustrated by his coldness, the gulf between them seeming uncrossable. And yet, at the same time, she was more and more fixated on him, watching him from afar with growing fascination. As he emerged the winner of his pool in the first round, she was reminded of how she’d been on the edge of her seat following his efforts in the maze run.
With each passing day, she learned more of the man she was to marry. He was intelligent, physically strong, had a powerful sense of honor, and wasn’t too proud to show care for vulnerable creatures like her horse. If he was to be believed, he was even inclined to give her license as her husband to pursue magic in defiance of tradition.
There was just one fairly significant problem.
He was completely uninterested inher. Any time they seemed to get closer, he would pull back. The more she tried to draw him out, the colder and stiffer he became. She wanted him to chase her, at least a little. But instead it felt like she was chasing him. And even though they were betrothed for all intents and purposes, she still couldn’t seem to get his interest.
She suddenly understood her flare of emotion at the floating gardens, when she’d been unable to reach the nymphaea. It was the same with Theo, she realized. He was so close, and sometimes she felt she was almost there. But try as she might, she couldn’t quite reach him. Just as her arm, while perfectly functional, wasn’t long enough to get to that flower, it seemed she simply didn’t possess the ability to captivate her future husband.
And she didn’t think she’d ever be able to accept that.
Chapter
Eleven
The day after Elowen took him to the floating gardens was a rest day for the court. A few commoner’s events were still being held, but most noble-born competitors were taking the day to recover their strength after the first round of the weapons combat. Theo decided not to visit the training yard this time. Perhaps he’d be wise to prepare for the next round, but he didn’t have the heart for it.
His thoughts were on Elowen, and they were too murky for him to understand. His mind kept dwelling on her confiding manner when she’d trusted him not to betray her secrets. It had been a good feeling. But then his memory would fly to the sensation of her touch when she’d grabbed his arm, and he found himself shying away in thought just as he had in reality. It was a painful memory, exposing his weakness. The rush of longing that had gone over him had shocked him. A bare touch of her hand, and he’d wanted to pull her into his arms and compel those expressive eyes to look up into his face again. He’d lived by rigid control for so many years. What was it about Elowen that threatened to fracture it every time he let himself soften even a little?
Most unsettling of all, under his disappointment in himself were other sensations. A part of him didn’t care that he’d showed weakness, instead reveling in the memory of her touch. That was the selfish part, he knew, and it could never be the guiding voice for a prince bound by duty to his kingdom.
There was no denying that his selfish emotions, however tightly bound, were growing increasingly eager for the marriage he’d committed to. And he was fortunate, because marrying Elowen would serve his kingdom. But losing control of himself to emotion, and therefore allowing himself to be drawn into petty jealousies and childish competitions, wouldn’t serve Siqual. It would dishonor it in front of their Torrenese allies.
Pulling away instead of indulging his desires at the floating gardens had been the responsible course. So why did he still feel so conflicted?
Elowen’s behavior since that moment hadn’t done anything to lift his spirits. He’d seen how closely she watched his fights in the afternoon. In fact, he wished he could deny how much he’d been motivated to win every match by the desire to impress her. More evidence of him letting his emotions distract him, and pointless as well. She hadn’t shown any sign of being impressed. In fact, not only had she failed to approach him after the match, she’d barely spoken to him at dinner beyond what politeness required. It seemed he’d been the only one to feel a moment of connection at the floating gardens.
Theo had no delusions about himself. He’d known he was considered stiff long before Lord Bertrand had so snidely said it in front of him. He’d never expected to have much success in wooing a woman. He wasn’t Xavier, he reflected dryly, with women falling all over him every time he smiled. But he had an arranged marriage, and the woman in question was already fully committed to him, by her own words as well as their kingdoms’ agreement. How was he still failing so dismally? He’d tried toshow her by his actions that he was dependable and committed, and that he would always behave with honor. He supposed she was disappointed that he wasn’t like any of the daydreams Lord Bertrand had described. The thought did nothing to improve his mood, and his strides were jerky and unsettled as he made his way to breakfast.
Just inside the door to the dining hall, he was greeted by King Ronan, who was deep in conversation with the duke. The king’s greeting suggested he would have preferred Theo to keep moving, but instead Theo joined the pair.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” he greeted the duke, inclining his head politely. “Is there any update on the issue with the magic?”
The duke bowed, his tone respectful but his words careful as he looked to the king for guidance.
“Good morning, Your Highness, and thank you for your interest. Rest assured that all possible resources have been put into the investigation.”
“Yes, your efforts have been commendable,” King Ronan said. He inclined his head to Theo. “His Grace has been thorough and strategic, as he is known for. In fact, many innovations in the capital—especially those involving magic craft—are thanks to his generosity with his time and resources.”
“I’ve admired some of those innovations myself,” Theo commented. “I hope in time perhaps you’ll be so gracious as to share your insights with Siqual as well.”
The duke’s expression was a little more forced as he bowed again. Theo suspected he was eager to return to his task. Theo shifted slightly back, allowing the men to continue the conversation he’d interrupted. Privately, he wrestled with the question of whether to report what he’d felt in the maze the day before. He was hesitant because Elowen’s words at the floating garden told him that, like his own parents, King Ronan would beunlikely to commend him for the focus he’d given to his magical sense. He was even afraid the king would think he’d been trying to use it to cheat in the maze event.
Discomfort trickled through him as he remembered what Elowen had told him about her clandestine magical studies. She had been too generous in assuming his disapproval had related to the magic. In reality it had a much pettier cause, and he hadn’t wanted her to know the flicker of jealousy he’d felt at the thought of her shared secret with the servant Simeon. He hadn’t criticized that aspect, knowing that doing so would reveal his childish jealousy. And the knowledge that Elowen’s friend had been not only part of these lessons but their orchestrator certainly softened the information.
Theo’s attention returned to the pair in front of him, dismayed to realize he’d once again let his emotions distract him. The duke was speaking of his plans to leave after breakfast and travel northwest of the capital.
“I beg your pardon for the interruption, but what’s to the northwest?” Theo asked, determined not to be kept out of the matter.
The king’s eyes flicked to him. “A forested region,” he said. “His Grace is following a trail, and he intends to investigate reports of a suspicious landslide.”
