Slowly, Magdala got out of bed. “So, someone got onto the island and put sap on the prince’s clothes. Without being seen. How?”
“And how could the assassin get on and off the island?” Asherton asked. “We would see a dragon. A boat, perhaps?”
“A boat is the only possible way.”
“I’ll search the beach.” Magdala brushed her wrinkled clothes and tucked her hair behind her ears. “For the rest of the summer, the prince should remain in the house …”
Asherton raised his eyebrows. “Like hell I will! I’d rather be assassinated than cooped up for my last summer of freedom before I’m sentenced to a life on the throne!"
Zephyr scratched his chin. “Perhaps, Miss Devney, if you did your job and remained with the prince …”
“I did tell her to take a break, Zeph,” Asherton admitted. “So, in this instance, it wasn’t her fault.”
Magdala opened her mouth to remind them that it wasn’t her fault in any instance, but a clatter of roots distracted her, and Anton blundered across the floor and latched onto her leg.
Magdala dropped her face into her hands. “I hate this place.”
“I’m not staying in the house,” Asherton said. “That’s my final word. Besides, if the assassin got into my room to taint my clothes, then I’m no safer in here than out here.”
“How did they get in the bedroom, though?” Zephyr said to himself.
Asherton raked his hand through his hair and then glanced at Madgala suspiciously.
“It wasn’t me,” she mouthed.
Asherton raised one eyebrow.
“It wasn’t!” she insisted in a loud whisper.
“Wasn’t what?” Zephyr asked.
Magdala let out a frustrated breath through her nose. “I’m going to check the grounds. Zeph, stay with His Highness and don’t let him roam around alone again.”
Zephyr frowned at Asherton. “Want to play a game of chess?”
“You get angry when I beat you.”
“That’s not true. You rarely beat me.”
“That’s because I let you win.”
Their bickering voices followed her down the hall.
Chapter 20
Anton slept with Madgala again that night. Three times, she rose and tossed him onto Asherton’s chest. Three times, she found him curled against her, one leaf resting on her neck. In the end, she gave up and slept fitfully, dreaming of arborial ghosts with ivory teeth.
When she awoke, Magdala knew Asherton was gone before she glanced at his empty bed.
Seething, Magdala pushed Anton onto the floor, dressed, and ran barefoot down to the kitchen, where she found Asherton stirring eggs in a chipped porcelain bowl—once a Devney family heirloom. Cracked eggshells riddled the counter, oozing on the scarred wood.
“Before you shout at me,” he said, “I just came down to the kitchen. And Zephyr is up already, so I’m not really alone.”
“At least wake me up,” she grumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“You were sleeping so peacefully, I hated to wake you.”
She dropped into a chair at the scrubbed wooden table. Asherton pointed to a pot of tea in a flowered cozy, and she poured a cup.
