I clear my throat. “Lady Tilanthia and I needed a bit of air, so she was showing me the gardens. She has a remarkable knowledge of flora. Might you show me the mourning irises she mentioned? That’s the right type, isn’t it, Lady Tilanthia?”
I give her an encouraging smile.
The girl dares one look at Lord Lyken. Her mouth even opens as if she’s about to speak.
Then she bolts.
“I apologize, Lord Lyken,” I say as she disappears around a bend. “I don’t think she’s feeling well.”
“She is…very young.”
He glances at me, and the easy understanding we experienced at our first meeting recurs. I sigh.
“I will try to speak with her.”
Lord Lyken bows even lower. “I would be most grateful, for I would hate to lose my head on account of breaking the heart of the king’s sister.”
I can’t help chuckling. “I’ll speak with the king as well. I’m sure we can keep your head.”
He straightens, his eyes dancing. “That’s very generous, Your Highness. How can I thank you? Oh!” He holds out an elbow. “It’s a paltry offering for one’s head, but allow me to show you the mythical mourning iris. At the very least, it’s ironic, given my good fortune.”
“I thank you, but I really must get back to check on Lady Tilanthia.”
He inclines his head. “Of course.” His head lifts, and his smile falls.
Without warning, he strides toward me, raises his hand in a backhanded motion, and aims for my shoulder.
His eyes grow round as my wrist comes up to block him.
Shocked as I was, I reacted without a thought. Even now, I can’t help thinking Mother would be proud.
“What are you doing?” I hiss. He’s supposed to be my contact here, not a combatant.
He blinks at me. A finger of his outstretched hand curls against his thumb, and with obvious caution, he reaches around my raised wrist to flick something from my shoulder.
“Scorpion,” he says.
My arm falls to my side. “Oh.”
“They’re common here.”
“I see.”
We stare at one another.
“Well,” I say, “good evening, Lord Lyken.”
“Good evening, Your Highness.”
I turn to flee in the most dignified manner possible.
No, embarrassing as that was, I should thank him. I spin back around.
“Lord Ly—”
A sliver of light flashes behind him. At first, I think he’s brought his mirror out again, that it’s catching the moonlight.
That is until I see the figure on the balcony and the telltale curve of a drawn bow. As the arrow flies, all I can think is that I really am a fool.
