15
Abook fell from thetop most shelf, almost smacking me in the face.
“Apologies! Are you alright?” Ash poked his head around the corner, his hair covered in a light coat of dust. We were cleaning the library again. Oddly enough, I had grown to enjoy the task.
“I’m fine,” I said. I leaned my mop against the wall and picked up the volume. It was a hefty thing on finances. “Ah. Olderean Finances. My old governess tried to teach me out of that.”
Ash took the book and disappeared behind the bookshelf. His hand emerged from the top as he put it back. “Really? Learn anything interesting?”
“I didn’t learn anything at all,” I said, dunking my mop into a bucket of soapy water. “She was an awful teacher. My Papa taught me the basics.”
“Ah, perhaps the next kingdom-wide issue Bennett ought to tackle is decent governesses,” he said. The creaking of ladder rungs sounded from the other side. “Mine was just as awful.”
“You had a governess?” I said, unable to keep the laughter out of my voice. “Why not a regular tutor?”
“It was only for a year or so. And it was meant to be a punishment of sorts.” Ash flashed me a smile from a gap between a few books. “I was eight, I believe. I was supposed to be studying with Bennett overseas but I slipped off the ship last minute. Needless to say, my parents were furious when they found me hiding in the throne room.”
I laughed. “How did you manage that at eight years old?”
“A magician never reveals his secrets.”
Of course he was a handful as a child.
“Tell me about your governess,” I said, pushing the mop across the floor. The clean path of marble gleamed in the daylight. “What did you do to the poor woman?”
“Quite the opposite, actually,” the prince said. “You should be asking what she did to me.” He was still smiling, though his usual cheekiness was absent. “I don’t think I’ve ever lived a bleaker year. It happened that my mother had to pay a visit to her cousins and my father was busy with his affairs as usual. I was completely under my governess’s care, if care is even the right word. She expected me to dedicate every hour to my studies. Language, history, economics, politics, etiquette, and piano. I wasn’t allowed to play outside for more than a few minutes each day. And if I disobeyed her...well I learned not to.” He grimaced, but smoothed his features when he caught me staring.
“She didn’t hurt you, did she?” I said incredulously. I’ve had my fair share of stinging palms, though the way Ash spoke suggested that he had far more than a quick smack on the wrist. Ash ran his thumb over a faint white scar across his knuckles. That said more than enough.
“I became very good at piano,” he said, abruptly drawing away from the bookshelf. I suspected he didn’t want me to see his face. “Excellent, if I do say so myself, but I detest it. Isn’t that funny? I believe there is little point in mastering something if you end up hating it. Then the only reason you continue to do it is because you’re a master, and not because you’re truly passionate about it.”
“That makes sense,” I said. I certainly had never been a master at anything, but I knew Genevieve would not love drawing if she had been forced to do it.
Ash rearranged a few volumes, creating more racket than I thought necessary, and stuffed an etiquette book into the gap he had talked through. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
I didn’t want to push the topic. “Not at all,” I said. I bent down to wring out the mop, making a face as dirty, sudsy water drenched my sleeves. I should have rolled them up beforehand. “Do you reckon Mr. Northberry will be satisfied with our work?”
“Tired already?” I was glad to hear the teasing tone return to his voice.
“No,” I said. “Just hungry.”
“I’ll say,” Ash said. He emerged from the other side of the bookshelf, this time fully, and handed me his handkerchief. I glanced at the pristine fabric embroidered with gold thread. His initials gleamed at the corner.
I held up my hands which were dripping with mop water. “You can’t be serious.”
He rolled his eyes. “Take it. I have more than enough to spare.”
I reluctantly accepted and dried my hands. “I ought to go back. I can’t miss another luncheon or I’ll hurt Lord Strongfoot’s feelings.”
“I’ll see you back, then.”
I was going to protest, but he had already offered me his arm and didn’t look like he was going to retract it. We left our cleaning supplies for the servants to take care of and passed Mr. Northberry, who as usual, was snoring up a storm at the front desk.
The halls of the south wing were relatively empty, save for several passing maids who pretended not to gawk at us. I only hoped they wouldn’t start a rumor too atrocious. I probably looked ridiculous with my sleeves soaked through and skirts wrinkled at the arm of a prince, who at the moment didn’t look too princely either.
