Page 15

Chapter

Fifteen

F lora woke the morning after the ball with a pounding head and a very confused heart.

The first thing she noticed was the absence of the pressure around her waist. The memory made her cheeks burn. Cassius must have felt it, too. What would he think? It was the first night she’d allowed herself to settle comfortably into her bed without thought for the edge of the tether. She’d noticed the first night that the two beds were barely within the twenty-foot limit, and she’d hoped that by sleeping right on the edge, Cassius wouldn’t notice. Had her actions last night forced him to sleep right on the edge? Had he wanted to flirt with the limit of their tether, or had he been frustrated that he couldn’t get comfortable, free from her invisible touch?

Whatever his feelings about it, for her it had felt like falling asleep with his arms around her, strong and comforting.

And all kinds of confusing.

Just like their dance had been. No one had forced him then. He’d been the one to ask—no, insist—that she dance with him. Not that she’d been against the idea.

It was all overwhelming, and if she had her way, she would hide away and avoid dealing with it by not seeing him all day. Perhaps for several days. But that wasn’t an option, so she needed to stop being a coward.

With a groan, Flora pushed herself out of bed and pulled the curtain open. She was taken aback by the light that streamed in. The morning was well advanced.

It was no wonder she’d overslept. Her head still ached, and her limbs felt sore and heavy from the exertion of the previous evening. Neither of the enchantments she’d done had been too substantial, but the movement she’d used to create them had been minimal, and it had taken significant effort to achieve the effects with such a small amount of magic.

Magic craft was incredibly taxing on the body and mind, and generally it was necessary to use about half the power created by movement to replenish the user’s own energy, so as not to pass out from the effort. It was all a matter of proportions—the more movement, the more power, the greater the potential use. But the more substantial the enchantment, the more energy it cost…exponentially so.

The magic generated by the movement of her skirts in the dance—and later, when she used them to stir up enough Dust to stop the cake stand—was insubstantial. She hadn’t wanted to be conspicuous by making more obviously orchestrated movements, so she’d disregarded good practice and put almost all of the magic toward the frivolous display with the dancing.

It had been a foolish decision, born of a lax mindset that they were in no danger at a ball and she therefore didn’t need to marshal her resources. But she hadn’t reckoned on falling cake displays and the need for further magical exertion, and she was paying the price now.

She soon learned that she wasn’t the only one paying a price. Once she’d speedily washed and dressed, she made her way out to the corridor, feeling guilty for her tardiness. She assumed he had also slept late, or surely her presence would have been demanded earlier.

But almost as soon as she’d taken up position outside her door, a stately figure issued from the prince’s receiving room. The queen was impeccably dressed, and she moved with her usual dramatic air. But her attendant ladies were notably absent.

One glance at Queen Horatia’s face confirmed that she was irritated. She paused as soon as she caught sight of Flora, her glare leaving Flora in no doubt of her standing in the royal’s eyes. It took all her focus to keep her eyes straight and fight down the flush attempting to flood her face.

Whatever the queen might think, Flora knew that she’d done nothing wrong.

Well, dancing with the prince had maybe been a little bit wrong. But after all, he’d insisted.

The queen stood for an uncomfortably long minute, regarding Flora in the silence of outraged majesty. But she seemed to decide it was beneath her dignity to address her grievances to the guard directly. At last, with a sweep of skirts, she took off down the corridor, leaving Flora to let out a silent breath and release the tension in her shoulders.

It returned a moment later, as one of the prince’s guards addressed her.

“Stories of your magic craft have been understated.”

Flora looked at him cautiously, not committing herself to a reply. She doubted he was complimenting her protective enchantment at the ball.

“We’re all well aware that you have the prince wrapped around your finger,” the guard went on, an unpleasant glint in his eye. “But I’d like to know what magic you use on the head guard to avoid losing your position with the way you carry on.”

“Getting the prince in trouble is usually a dismissible offense,” agreed the other guard. “Seems you’ve worked your charm on a lot of people to avoid consequences the way you do.”

“Trouble?” Flora repeated, ignoring the slights against herself. “What trouble is the prince in?”

The first guard snorted. “You just saw the queen, what do you think? She’s been in there scolding the prince for two straight hours.”

Flora winced. No wonder her presence hadn’t been missed earlier. Cassius hadn’t been free to go anywhere.

She said nothing, and the guards showed every sign of wanting to needle her until she gave them a response. Thankfully the prince chose that moment to appear, his eyes holding Flora’s for one heartbeat before quickly flitting away. He didn’t greet her, just started down the hall, trailed by the three guards.

What remained of the prince’s morning was spent in the king’s study. Flora, positioned outside, couldn’t hear what passed between them. But she would have bet all her meager belongings that Cassius was trying again to persuade his father to move forward with the alliance. In the short moment when her eyes had met his outside his rooms, she’d read the same tension she felt after the events of the night before.

Their current situation was untenable. Something had to change, and judging by the length of time he spent in his father’s study, the prince was determined to change it. Meanwhile, Flora stood in the corridor, enduring unpleasant comments from the other guards. By the time the prince emerged for lunch, she was hungry and far more weary than the short morning of duty justified. There was a reason it wasn’t normal for guards to be on duty all day every day without pause. It was difficult to maintain a sharp edge.

The king left his study along with his son, both men seeming frustrated.

Mercifully the meal was a quiet, private affair, with only the prince and his father, along with a senior nobleman whose meeting with the king had been delayed by Cassius’s prolonged interview, and who had been invited to eat with the royal pair instead. The servants were casting more looks Flora’s way than usual, silent questions behind their eyes as they saw the newcomer transformed from ball guest back to guard.

Flora did her best to ignore them, her stomach protesting as she stood along the wall behind the table while the prince ate. It was a tiresome business, being obliged to act like a normal guard. If she happened to be on duty with Miriam over a meal, the princess would often choose to have food brought to her room so that they could eat together. Here, Flora wasn’t even free to come off duty and go the guards’ mess for food.

She hadn’t been listening much to the conversation, but when it veered toward the investigation into the attack, her attention was caught. The nobleman had nothing of use to say—he just agreed with whichever royal had spoken most recently. Flora thought it was a victory for Cassius when the nobleman affirmed his suggestion that an alliance with Siqual would help protect Carrack from any Torrenese aggression, but the king didn’t seem impressed. Flora could see—and share—Cassius’s outrage when the king instructed a servant to summon Sir Keavling to support his point.

“Father.” Cassius’s protest chased the servant from the room. “You have no need of his counsel here.”

“It’s not for my own sake, Cassius,” said the king. “You need to hear the latest theory we have discussed.”

Sir Keavling materialized quickly, his benign manner making Flora bristle.

“Sir Keavling,” the king said. “Tell Prince Cassius what you told me yesterday.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” The nobleman bowed to Cassius. “I have been thinking on your wise words, Your Highness, when you’ve pointed out that the evidence against Torrens is inconclusive. I still feel wary of our neighbors, but I followed your example and turned my mind to the possibility that Torrens is innocent.”

“Did you?” Cassius didn’t sound impressed by the seeming support.

“And naturally that led me to consider who else might be behind the attacks. It is possible we have suspected the wrong country.’

“We were too quick to dismiss Siqual from suspicion,” the king agreed.

“You imply that Siqual staged the attack on their own princess so as to avoid suspicion for the attack on me?” Cassius said, incredulous.

“It is a possibility we must consider,” King Aelius said. “What better way for Siqual to allay suspicion? Princess Miriam suffered no harm, did she? No one in the Siqualian delegation was injured at all. ”

Indignation burned within Flora. Miriam had almost died—it was infuriating that King Aelius used her near miss to paint her as suspicious. And had the king forgotten her own presence in the room? Flora would have needed to be heavily involved in any such scheme.

She was scanning the table stonily, and she sucked in a breath as she found Sir Keavling’s eyes fixed on her. He at least hadn’t missed either her presence or the implications of the king’s words.

But she didn’t think he believed the tale he was spinning. He had an ulterior motive.

“They weren’t injured thanks to quick action and skilled defense,” Cassius said. “This is nothing more than a tall tale.”

“Perhaps,” said King Aelius. “Or perhaps there is a scheme of which we are unaware. It’s enough reason to hesitate on the proposed alliance. I have lost trust in both Siqual and Torrens.”

Flora, standing right behind Cassius, saw his hand clench into a fist where it rested on his knee under the table.

“And what have you gained in place of that loss?” the prince growled. His eyes passed to Sir Keavling. “These tall tales haven’t come from your own mind, Father. They’ve been spun for you.”

“There is no spinning involved,” the king said crisply. “I am considering all aspects of the situation.” He stood abruptly, and everyone else at the table hastened to copy, abandoning their partially eaten meals.

“You’ve taken up my morning, Cassius,” the king said to his son. “But I’m afraid I cannot give you my afternoon. There are matters of urgency requiring my attention.”

With a gesture of the head, he summoned the other nobleman, and the man hurried out of the room in the king’s wake.

Leaving Cassius directing a hard stare at Sir Keavling.

“Your Highness.” The nobleman bowed before turning toward the door.

“A moment, Sir Keavling.”

Cassius’s voice carried a note of unmistakable command, and Sir Keavling stopped mid-stride, seeming to resent his own instinctive obedience. As he turned to face the prince, Flora tensed, her hand slipping into her pocket to close around her sling. It was foolish, in a well-protected room within the castle, with numerous other guards around. But she didn’t trust this man. It would not have surprised her to learn that he meant Cassius harm.

“Understand one thing, Sir Keavling.” Cassius’s voice still carried that authority that made Flora’s skin prickle. “I see you. Whatever you’ve been whispering in my father’s ears, I will stand against any alliance with the continent to my last breath. I am the future of Carrack, and our future is the Peninsula.”

Sir Keavling studied the prince in silence, his dark eyes calculating and cautious.

“I do not seek to be your enemy, Your Highness.”

“I’m not interested in what you seek,” Cassius said, his own eyes narrowed. “Don’t be fooled into thinking my trust as easily won as others’ might be. I’ve never been one to be charmed by snakes.”

A flash of anger crossed the nobleman’s features before he could contain it. It wasn’t the anger that sent a shiver up Flora’s spine, however. It was the way it transformed Sir Keavling’s face, and the speed with which the fire disappeared from his eyes again. The man was most definitely wearing a mask. She knew the signs better than anyone.

“Perhaps, Your Highness,” Sir Keavling said smoothly, “you would be wise not to make an enemy of me.”

Cassius shifted forward, his taller frame towering over the other man. “Is that a threat?”

“Of course not, Your Highness.”

Now that she’d seen his mask, Flora couldn’t see anything else. Every word was false—she had no idea who this man really was.

“Watch yourself, Sir Keavling,” Cassius said, his form stiff with tension. “I will certainly be watching you.”

“Words I would only expect to hear from a man who has nothing to fear from close scrutiny himself.” The nobleman’s words were spoken quietly, sleekly.

Flora didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked to her and then meaningfully back to the prince. She stared stonily at him, knowing his interest in her was only in how she might provide leverage against the prince. But the nobleman would be disappointed. Cassius might prefer their situation not to be discovered, but it wasn’t such a dire outcome that he could be blackmailed through threat of it. She doubted Cassius would even care about the idle warning.

She was therefore surprised when the prince immediately bristled.

“You come dangerously close to crossing a line,” he said darkly. “You overstep your position, and your determined attempts to influence policy have been noted.”

“I wish only to serve Carrack, Your Highness.”

By way of reply, Cassius turned on his heel and stalked from the room. Flora could feel Sir Keavling’s eyes on her back as she moved smoothly into the corridor.

“You’re not needed.” Cassius’s words, directed to the other guards, held the hint of a growl.

Flora saw them exchange looks before they bowed and withdrew. She, of course, couldn’t be dismissed, so she followed the prince in silence as he strode with agitated steps through a maze of corridors she hadn’t traversed before. They walked for some minutes, but when they emerged into a well-tended garden, Cassius didn’t seem to have calmed down much.

He moved down the rows of flowers and into a decorative spiral of hedges that reached the height of his head. After he’d traveled well into the spiral, he stopped and turned, the movement so abrupt that Flora actually walked into him.

Cassius’s arms shot out before she could stabilize herself, gripping her shoulders and holding her steady while he searched her eyes.

“Are you all right?”

“What?” She blinked at him. “Of course I’m all right.”

“He was threatening you, Flora, don’t you understand that?” Cassius’s hands tightened on her shoulders, his pale blue eyes intense.

“Calm down, Cassius,” she said firmly. She placed her hands over his in a reassuring gesture. His fingers were tense and strong. “He was threatening you—I can’t imagine he has any interest in me.”

“He does.” Cassius’s voice left no room for argument. “I’ve seen how he watches you.”

Flora hesitated. She’d seen it too. “Maybe he suspects the tether.”

Cassius didn’t respond. He pulled suddenly away, turning to the side and lowering his brow into one hand. He seemed to realize he needed to pull himself together. Flora had sympathy for him. If she was reeling from the previous night’s events—not only their dance at the ball but the illusory embrace they’d shared as they slept—he must be as well. She understood perfectly how difficult it was to have no privacy from the person you most needed it from.

Hesitantly, she moved forward. The prince’s hair, usually swept back from his brow, had fallen over his face, making him look disheveled and more…human. With a featherlight touch, Flora slid her fingers under it, shifting the hair from his face. He stilled, his eyes closing in an expression that was somehow both guarded and incredibly vulnerable.

“Don’t worry about me, Cassius,” she said softly. “I’m much more resilient than you realize. I’m a weathervane. Worry about your kingdom and your alliance. That’s what Sir Keavling is really threatening.”

“I do worry about my kingdom.” Cassius opened his eyes, raising his head to look her in the face again. “Constantly. But I can’t seem to help worrying about you, too.”

“You don’t need to,” she assured him.

He didn’t look convinced. “What do you mean, you’re a weathervane?”

“Oh.” She laughed lightly as she took a step back. “It’s a nickname I gave myself during my studies. I might let myself be blown this way and that, but it doesn’t bend me out of shape. Weathervanes are designed to be blown about, they don’t suffer any harm for it.”

“Why must you be blown this way and that?” Cassius pressed, his voice low and far too captivated. “Why can’t you have a settled home?”

“Never mind that,” Flora said quickly, wishing she’d never mentioned it.

She’d done well so far in preventing Cassius from digging too deeply into her own life. She shouldn’t invite his scrutiny now, with more important matters at stake .

“The real question,” she went on, “is why Sir Keavling is set against the alliance with Siqual.”

But Cassius wasn’t to be so easily distracted. His eyes remained fixed on her face, and he took a step nearer to her.

“Yes, that’s the question, but it’s nothing new.” Unexpectedly, he put a hand on her shoulder again. “I’m sorry you’re caught up in this mess, Flora. I’m sorry the stalling of the alliance has such a personally devastating effect on you.”

“Why are you apologizing?” she asked. “None of this is your doing.”

“But I failed to stop it,” he said. “I was responsible for my delegation, and I was too weak to keep control. And you’re paying the price for it.”

“You’re not weak, Cassius,” Flora said, alarmed by what she saw in his eyes. “No one thinks you’re weak.” Barely conscious of the gesture, she wrapped one arm around her waist, where the tether could be felt if they tested its limits. “I won’t deny that our situation is awkward. But to describe it as devastating is…well, a little unflattering.”

She sent him a crooked grin which he didn’t return. Instead he stared into her eyes with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.

“It’s devastating me,” he said, the words so quiet she couldn’t tell if he was speaking to her or himself.

Flora swallowed. His hand was heavy on her shoulder, and she was finding it hard to properly fill her lungs.

“Stay away from Sir Keavling as much as you can,” Cassius said abruptly. “Don’t let him draw you into conversation.”

“I won’t,” she assured him. “I’m good at being discreet, Cassius. I won’t give our tether away. ”

He shook his head in frustration. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Sir Keavling is what you should be worried about,” Flora told him firmly. His demeanor had distracted her, but she suddenly remembered her observations from the dining room. “He’s not who he’s pretending to be, Cassius. I saw his mask slip back there. The real him came out for a moment.”

Cassius nodded. “Yes, there’s no doubt that he’s been putting on a front to convince my father of his sincerity.”

Flora shook her head. “It’s more than that. He’s not just being careful with the impression he makes. He’s playing a part. Wholly and completely. It’s not the same thing. I don’t know how to explain it better than that, but you have to trust me. I don’t think he’s who he says he is.”

Cassius frowned at her, his hand still on her shoulder for some reason. “I do trust you, Flora.” The words were so sincere, they brought the hint of a flush to Flora’s cheeks. “I have a feeling you have your own experience with what you’re describing.”

That brought out the rest of the flush. Flora dropped her eyes quickly, unable to stand the strength of his focus.

“I’m not hiding any nefarious schemes, Your Highness,” she tried.

“No, don’t you dare reintroduce my title,” Cassius said. “Your mask won’t work on me anymore, Flora. We’re tethered together, remember? I know you better than you think.”

His words woke a powerful ache inside her, one so potent it surprised her. The thought of being truly known was…tantalizing.

“I wasn’t accusing you of anything nefarious,” Cassius added. “I just meant that I take your words about Sir Keavling seriously.”

“Good,” said Flora. “You should.”

The prince bit his lip, his fingers gently kneading her shoulder in a gesture that seemed unconscious to him, but that made her insides melt into a puddle. How was his touch so soothing?

“I think I’ll launch an investigation of my own,” he said, his eyes unfocused. “A very quiet one. I want his papers examined by an expert. I want to know more about the death of his uncle.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Flora eagerly. “If there’s someone you can trust with the task, we should set that in motion immediately.”

“Yes.” For some reason, her words made Cassius smile. “We should.” He drew his hand back, taking a breath and assuming his more formal princely demeanor. “And we can’t do so from within this garden. Come on.”

Flora followed him out of the hedges, finding it harder than ever to play the part of guard. She caught herself in the foolish thought that she wished they could stay in the privacy of the garden forever, just the two of them, with Cassius’s hand on her shoulder.

Thoughts like that would bring her no peace.