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Quin coughs. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Why not, it’s true? I slept with a prince. Prince Nicostratus, my hero. Absolutely, definitely the only person I’ve fallen for.” My chest swells on a violent laugh. “But...”

The air shifts and so does Quin. Close, his breath combing the sensitive skin beneath my jaw.

My chest tightens, and I clench my fists to keep still. “Memorable. There has been another man like that.”

Dappled light over Quin’s face brightens, or maybe it’s the interest in his look. His eyes stay on mine, but he doesn’t speak.

I let out a sighing breath and glance across the grass and trees. My jaw tightens. “He was something else. Always hid his face, never trusted me. Rude, ungrateful; a right pebble in my boot. And he always took off before I was finished with him. Worst, though, I got used to him reappearing.” I laugh as the ache surfaces again. “So when he stopped...”

Quin watches me, still as a shadow, but the quiet stretches, pulling at something raw inside.

My voice cracks, words coming out like thorns dragged up my throat. “Anyway, it’s not like I kept going back to all the places we met. It’s not like I spent months searching for him, or think of him all the time. It’s not like I wonder where he is and what he’s doing and whether he ever thinks of me.”

I force out a laugh. “Memorable,” I mutter. “Doesn’t always mean fond.”

Quin finally shifts, his voice heavy. “I see.”

“And you? Before your wife, was there anyone? Or have you only had eyes for one person.”

“Only one,” he says, his voice soft but heavy. I hiccup again. “Like you, since I was young.”

I close my eyes on Quin and the trees, and hum. “Good for you. I wish you a long, happy life together.”

I drift off to Quin’s raw laugh...

Afternoon is filtering through the pear branches when I blink myself awake. Quin’s cloak is draped over me, warm as sun-soaked grass. I brush off fallen pear blossoms and scan around, but he’s gone. The teapot with our intoxicating tea lies empty on its side. I sit it upright with a grimace; pearl heart thorn-tea is more potent than I thought. So much for sharpening the mind!

I rub at the slight pounding in my head. My magic stutters, not on top form after the indulgence. Neither was I on top form while we were drinking. I blabbered my way into a temporary coma. I’m not sure how much I told Quin.

I shake off my scowl. The last impression I have is Quin turning a saddened face away... Or perhaps it’d been a tired face.

Grimacing, I stand and shake off more petals, Quin’s cloak hanging over my arm. I should return this, then it’s back to the apothecary to refill my chest with medicinal herbs. My half-day off is over.

Red flashes and I turn. A redcloak, marching through the trees, hard eyes swinging to me. “Make way.”

More redcloaks line the path leading to the king’s house, still more are planting themselves between the pear trees. My insides swoop up to the base of my neck. Which way is he coming from?

I retreat hastily; a bathhouse, it’s right there, and the door is ajar—I slink inside and the steam instantly engulfs me. I’ll hide here until the royal presence has passed.

This bathhouse is much, much fancier than the one in the scholar’s quarters. An elegant, timbered room sheltering a waist-deep pool. Natural light streams in from glazed panels in the roof, making the swirls of steam sparkle.

Mustn’t be seen. I sidle down the side of the pool, further from the windows. Movement under the water catches me by surprise; I almost knock a large basin of fragrant rose petals into the bath. I grab the bowl and settle it, then almost topple it again when Quin’s upper half lurches out of the pool in a spray of water. He halts abruptly at the sight of me, and I clasp a hand against my pounding chest. “Oh, thank heavens. It’s you. I thought I’d stumbled upon someone important.”

Quin sinks into the water, as though shielding himself from my gaze. His eyes remain fixed on mine, calm but assessing as his flutette submerges. “What are you doing here?”

“Hiding. I mean,”—I raise my arm with his cloak draped over it—“returning this. I’ll just...” I pause, glancing around at the swirling steam. “Midday baths. Lavish.”

The flicker of his smirk makes me wonder if he caught the slight tremor in my voice. “I have an important meeting. I stank of that tea.”

Oops. I chuckle and divert my gaze from the pool.

“Who are you hiding from?” Quin asks.

I glance towards voices outside the doors.

Wait.