“Are you interested in quests?” Fitz asked.
The person behind him in line stepped around us, taking his place. He didn’t seem to notice.
“More than interested,” I told him with a smile. “I’ve read every adventure account I can find. They’refascinating, don’t you think? The magic, the monsters, the mystical places.” I let my gaze go distant, a naïve young woman picturing a romantic adventure.
Then I heaved a despondent sigh. Perhaps it was a little over-the-top, but deception was theater, and sometimes actions needed to be exaggerated for the audience to understand. “What I wouldn’t give to go on my own adventure …”
Fitz opened his mouth—to tell me about the meeting, perhaps?—but all that came out was a grunt as someone jostled him.
“You’re holding up the line,” they said, unrepentant.
A librarian waved us over. “Next!”
I set the books on the counter while Fitz spoke to her about his account. I had no real reason to linger. It was better to bow out now than to garner suspicion. “It was nice to meet you,” I said, then turned and walked away.
I’d hoped for an invitation to the meeting, but that was like planting a seed and expecting it to bear fruit before the dirt had settled. I’d have to arrange another chance encounter, though I wasn’t sure where. With the number of books he’d checked out, he probably wouldn’t return to the library any time soon. A supply shop, perhaps?
“Wait!”
Pausing, I turned to see Fitz scrambling to stack the books in his arms once again. He looked from the pile to me, his expression strained, and asked, “Would you help me carry these home? We could talk more about quests on the way.”
I smiled, shaping it into something sweet rather than triumphant, and returned to his side, accepting a small stack. “I’d be delighted. I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Willow.”
“Prince Fitzroy Unfortunate.” He flinched and rushed to say, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pull rank on you, I just always—” He stopped himself and cleared his throat. “Please, call me Fitz.”
“Fitz,” I agreed. “I think you and I are going to become very good friends.”
Chapter Eight: Wilde
Present Day
Strolling Through the City Streets
Pretending to Ignore the Prince’s Guards
“Have you readEvil Mages Through the Ages?” Fitz asked, gesturing with his chin to the top book on my stack.
I tilted my head to read the spine. “Not this edition.” I’d read two other editions, once before my apprenticeship, and once shortly after. The publishers released one every five years with all the newly titled evil mages and their accomplishments. Well, not quite ‘all.’ Only the original Lord of Grimnight had made it into the pages.
The edition Fitz had picked up had been published only a year ago. Although the Desolated Lands had cut themselves off from the outside world, they apparently still enjoyed reading our books.
“I’ve read the fourteenth and fifteenth editions,” I continued.
“Did you have a favorite evil mage?” Fitz asked, his brown eyes lighting up with interest.
“The Flower King,” I said without hesitation.
Fitz’s brow furrowed as he sorted through a mental list. “Is that the one who manipulated neighboring nations to use carnations as currency?”
I laughed and nodded. “A lot of his colleagues didn’t take his efforts seriously until the Carnation War began.”
“Did a Chosen One defeat him? End the war?” In his eagerness for answers, Fitz stepped closer to me, brushing his shoulder against mine.
“No, he retired and passed the title off to his apprentice.” At the last second, I remembered to add, “At least, that’s what I’ve read.”
The walk between the Luckless Library and the Misfortune castle was too brief. We’d already arrived at the gates, and I hadn’t learned a single thing about Fitz’s quest.
Fitz paused outside of the gates and shifted restlessly from foot to foot. “Would you like to—”
