The prince stood beside her. He, too, watched the fire, his carefree attitude replaced with an alertness that turned his eyes sharp.
“I am loath to say you’re right, but…” He tipped his chin up and sniffed. The line between his brows deepened. Did he notice the sweet-smelling wood or how the fire crackled unnaturally loud, too?
The soldiers were unperturbed. They went on with their duties, indifferent to their carrying voices, their laughs boisterous and rising—along with the smoke—like a signal through the trees.
Risa didn’t want to be anywhere near the fire. She moved to sit on a moss-covered log as far from it as she could manage. Much to her chagrin, Prince Javi perched on the other end with her.
General Van Houten had disappeared into the other hastily erected tent to discuss what Risa assumed was secret information.
“Are you really a witch?”
She didn’t even deign to give the prince a look. “Don’t insult me. I’m just a girl.”
“Brunie’s never wrong about these things.”
Risa didn’t bother correcting him. Brunhilda hadn’t said she was a witch. Brunhilda had merely let the prince and his general and his guards believe what they wished and fed them a good lie to bolster the ruse.
“She lets you call her Brunie?”
He shrugged. “We have a special bond.”
“Doesshesee it that way?”
His mouth flattened into a line as he considered his answer. “She was there to witness my birth. Though that was probably her duty as royal-family witch.”
“Royal-family witch?”
“All royal families have one. Some ancient witch rule.” He stretched out his long limbs and raised his arms above his head as he yawned. “She’s around for births, deaths, marriages, elopements, divorces, coronations, first steps, first tooth, first loss of said tooth—”
“Major life events. So a fairy godmother.”
The prince grimaced. His gold eyes darted back and forth around the camp, as if the witch could be summoned by Risa’s words. Despite the hunted look and the way the firelight danced across his face, he managed to appear quite handsome. There was something about the shape of his strong jaw, the slant of his nose, the upturned corners of his lips. She blamed her lack of exposure to beautiful people for her nonexistent immunity to his perfect face.
“She does not like that term,” Prince Javi warned. “Trust me. Turned my brother into a newt once when he used it.”
“Fine.Royal-family witchit is.”
“Besides, in the stories, fairy godmothers bestow gifts upon their godchildren. This face”—he gestured at himself with a grin—“is all natural.”
“Honestly, how can anyone resist you?” she asked deadpan.
He winked. “They can’t.” He gestured at her with his chin. “So how does it work?”
“Pardon?”
“The good luck thing.” He toyed with the signet ring on his finger.
Risa turned from him, crossing her arms and legs. His beautywasunsettling. It wasn’t, however, unsettling enough for her to start divulging information he could use to piece together the truth about her.
“You can reveal all your terrible qualities at once, but I would like to keep mine a secret for another day.”
If he was going to retort, Risa would never know. In that moment, he leaped to his feet and raised a hand to motion for silence.
The effect was immediate. Risa tensed. The guards and even the horses went quiet. El principito might have been a useless prince, but he still commanded respect in a way she would’ve envied if she weren’t distracted by the prickle of dread working down her spine.
An unnatural hush settled over the camp, interrupted only by the loud crackle of spitting embers.
Prince Javi’s brows knit together as he tilted his head to one side and listened.
