I didn’t answer, marching away, fists clenched at my sides.
Stupid princes. Stupid men. Stupid young girls who think they know better than their elders.
I seethed.
I had work to do today.
Not all of us could sit in the gardens spying on chambermaids and their pitiable ambitions.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Don’t do it, Lyra.
I clutched my robe tighter as goosebumps raced up my arms.
You’re only hurting yourself.
Clover leaves prickled my ankles, late-night dew kissing my skin.
My breath caught at the sight of his figure in the distance, another guard lurking at his side. I hadn’t noticed his guards yesterday, but perhaps I hadn’t been quite so aware of Thomas before. Princes had never noticed me—why should I notice them?
When I finally made out the glint of his glasses in the starlight, he nodded my way. “You came.”
“You don’t sound too excited.”
He shrugged. “There are plenty of other mages who would value my assistance. Your agreement makes little difference to me.”
I bit my tongue so hard I tasted metal.
“However, it is much more convenient to stick with our original arrangement.”
I fixed my gaze on the heavyset man beside him. A thick beard of rough, auburn curls framed his jaw, and bright, clever eyes twinkled at me. Suddenly, under my gaze, he gave a shy smile, and the intimidation that once filled the garden sank into the hedgesbehind us. “Who is this?”
“My guard.” Prince Thomas barely spared us a glance. As if no one else in the world mattered, he began flowing his arms through the air in odd stretches. “Say hello, Caleb.”
“Hello, Caleb,” the guard said. I snorted, all anger dissipating. Caleb sent me a wink before schooling his expression at the prince’s glare.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I told him, and the guard nodded and shifted back. I turned to see Prince Thomas staring at me with a tapping foot.
“Well, come on.”
“I’m coming.” As I got closer, I scanned the titles of the tomes beside him, although in the darkness, I struggled to make out a single word. He had one open in his hands, his finger running over instructions as a dim magelight hovered above the parchment.
“How can you read these?” I asked. I drew closer and squinted, but the lines on the page wiggled and jumped as if they refused to stay still.
He tapped his spectacles. “Enchanted.”
I tilted my head. “How? May I have a pair?”
“No.” He closed the book so it snapped shut, and tossed it onto his precarious pile. “I was reviewing a recipe for a time-consuming potion. I hate making potions. You’ll have to learn to make them yourself.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks.”
He scratched his chin. “Now, I think it’s best to start with a few questions. What exactly were you trying to accomplish last night? And this afternoon?”
At this, I shuffled my feet, my cheeks heating. I knew exactly what I’d wanted to do—recreate his own magical feat, water ascendinginto air like a ladder to the heavens—but I wasn’t exactly eager to tell him that.
His stare bored into me. “Why be coy? You’re here to learn.”
