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My face heats. No, Jamys. The gods aren’t giving Ceraun magic. You’re getting me, but that may be more of a curse than a blessing. I take a deep breath and get back to the purpose of our little excursion. “Why are we out here?”

He presses his lips together before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pipe of some sort. I look down at it, up to him, and back again. “It’s an instrument?”

“Yes.” The word is drawn out and tips up in pitch at the end.

I slap my hand over my mouth and bite my lips together for good measure. The laugh I contain threatens to spill into my eyes as tears, though.

“It’s ridiculous. I know.” Jamys’ face reddens, and he begins to put it away.

“No! No. I’m so sorry. It’s not at all. I was just…” I cover my mouth again as I swallow back a chuckle. “All the secrecy. I was really expecting it to be something horrible or scandalous.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know!” I put my hand on his shoulder to steady myself into some semblance of maturity. “I’m sorry. I’m fine now. It is beautiful. May I have a closer look?”

He raises one eyebrow but hands it to me. It’s polished to such a luster, I wouldn’t think it was ever a tree. Masterful flourishes are carved into the length of it, with brilliant stars around the holes.

“Did you make this?”

He shakes his head. “Goodness, no.”

“But you play it?”

“Yes.” This time, the word is a little more confident, though still nervous.

“Will you play it for me?”

He scrapes his lip with his teeth. “I suppose that’s why we came here, though I am rather regretting the idea.”

“Oh, please don’t. We can’t have such secrets… once we’re married.” The end is tacked on in a flurry as I consider a secret I keep that is considerably more pertinent.

“All right.”

He folds one leg over the other as we sit on the cave floor. Then he puts his lips to the pipe, and a beautiful sound whispers forth from it. The tune is gentle, subdued, like it’s unsure of what it’s trying to be. Light but dark. The space between twilight and darkness. It’s haunting. Watching Jamys play it, I’m torn between gratitude and guilt. He’s a real person when he’s sitting here on a cave floor with me. Usually, he’s just a plan for the future, far away where I don’t have to think about him yet. I knew I’d get to know him better while he was here, and that’s a good thing—it has to be. Still, knowing him too well feels like a violation of us both. This is a gift I don’t deserve from him. It’s too beautiful for the woman who lies with another man knowing she’ll marry him.

When the song is over, he looks up at me, waiting.

“Jamys, you make magic with air, too. Even I can’t do that. It was beautiful.”

“Well, it’s not something generally considered practical for a crown prince to do.”

“Beauty is rarely practical. That doesn’t mean it isn’t worthwhile.”

Silence builds for a moment before he says, “You’ll be good for Ceraun, Ara.” His smile holds words he isn’t saying, but I have no right to pry. Mine always do the same.

“I hope so.”

Chapter thirteen

The warm feelings growing for Jamys and Ceraun are tempered by my first go at Cerauno fashion.

“Are you certain that’s where it goes?”

Lucy strings a ribbon through a loop at my waist. “I don’t see where else it could go. Could you put your finger here, please?” She guides my hand back to hold something in place while she ties something else.

“Do they require an entire team to dress a lady in Ceraun?” Cerauno fashion is known as “classical,” which is kinder to say than antiquated. They claim to have remained true to the time of the gods. If that’s the case, the gods’ choice to submit to death is no surprise.

“It would explain why the royal family brought so many attendants,” Lucy says.