Page 9

Chapter

Nine

F lora kept her mind focused on one task—preventing her eyes from straying to Prince Cassius’s face.

“What’s wrong, Flora?” His words, unexpectedly gentle, instantly broke her resolve. Her eyes flew to him before she forced them away again.

“Nothing, Your Highness.”

He ignored her words. “You’re distressed.”

“No, Your Highness.”

“Angry, then? Come on Flora, communicate with me.” The prince was beginning to sound exasperated.

“I don’t know what you wish me to communicate, Your Highness,” Flora replied.

Prince Cassius made a noise of irritation in his throat. “Enough, Flora. Don’t you remember that I’ve given you leave to speak freely whenever we’re alone? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re alone.”

“I did notice, Your Highness,” she said, struggling to keep her eyes fixed on the wall. “But it’s not my place to speak freely. Now that we’ve returned to Crandell, the need for me to respect your position has increased. ”

“I don’t know why,” the prince said. “I’m no more or less a prince here than I was on the road. But none of that explains why you feel angry to me.”

She frowned, her eyes moving reluctantly to his. What did he mean that she felt angry?

“Did the conversation with my father distress you?” the prince guessed.

Try as she might, Flora couldn’t keep her spirit at bay completely. “Not at all, Your Highness,” she said pleasantly. “In fact, I enjoy being spoken of as though I’m not in the room.”

Prince Cassius pressed his lips together in a thin line. “My father is not in the habit of considering the feelings of guards and servants. You must understand that as king—”

“I understand perfectly,” said Flora, cutting him off in a fine display of the free speaking he’d encouraged. “And I know of no reason why I would expect His Majesty to consider my feelings in how he spoke of me. He knows nothing of me, after all.”

The prince frowned, still not understanding. “So where is the source of the offense?”

“There is none, Your Highness,” Flora said. “It would be presumptuous of me to claim offense.”

“Flora.” A note had entered the prince’s voice that she hadn’t heard before.

“Yes, Your Highness?” she asked evenly.

“Enough of whatever this is,” he said, his voice stern. “Give me a plain answer.”

“You want a plain answer?”

It had been a long day—no, week—and Flora’s immediate future was uncertain at best. She was tired, she was hungry, her shoulder felt like it was on fire, and the worst of it was that, having no composure left, she couldn’t retreat to privacy. She had to stay within reach of the prince at all times, and somehow do so without falling apart in front of him. She met his eyes, her own full of angry fire.

“To give a plain answer, it was not His Majesty’s words or manner that bothered me. It was yours.”

“Mine?” The prince seemed genuinely startled.

“But it would be out of place for me to complain,” she said tartly. “Given I am nothing but a gift offered to you by the Siqualians.”

“I only meant—” he tried, but she cut him off yet again.

“I know what you meant,” she said acidly. “But what you said made me sound like some kind of concubine.”

“No one thought that,” the prince protested, unfolding his arms and pushing off from the door.

“But they will,” she said. “You know they will, and you also know that there’s nothing either you or I can do to stop it.”

Prince Cassius didn’t answer, which was as good as an acknowledgment as far as Flora was concerned.

“I’m here because I was forced to accompany you through the completely illegal exercise of compulsion magic by a member of your delegation. I came unresisting because I didn’t wish to cause Princess Miriam or Prince Theodore distress when they were powerless to prevent my captivity.”

She saw that the word captivity startled the prince, but she didn’t back down. That was what it was, plain and simple.

“My consideration shouldn’t be confused for acquiescence. I wish to promote peace on the Peninsula, and to that end I am committed to your protection. But I’m not your servant, and I’m not in the employ of your king. ”

She paused for a moment, trying to control her breathing. It would serve no one for her to truly lose her temper.

“I know this situation isn’t of your choosing, either, Your Highness,” she said. “I don’t blame you for it. But given we’re both to be subjected to the inconvenience of me being often in the room when I shouldn’t be, I would be grateful if you tried to limit the indignity I must suffer in being used by you as a prop to manipulate your father.”

The prince stared at her for a long moment. The silence was so loaded that Flora began to doubt herself. He’d said to speak freely, but he likely hadn’t meant that freely. She was debating whether she should have continued playing the role of a dutiful guard—whether she could still reclaim that role if she wound back her words quickly enough—when the prince started into motion.

He walked toward her with deliberate steps. The receiving room was spacious, but somehow he filled it. When he stopped, Flora found herself looking up into his face, the distance between them small enough that she couldn’t have raised a hand without brushing the brocaded fabric of his jacket.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice lower than usual, and his tone more intense. “You are not a servant, and you are certainly no one’s concubine. I apologize for causing you embarrassment.”

Flora swallowed. His apology had taken her completely by surprise, and she could think of no response. Not that he was waiting for one.

“I’m wise enough to know that I can’t stop the rumor mill,” he went on. “But if anyone offers you insult, you may be assured they will have to deal with me.”

“That’s…”

Flora’s voice came out hoarse, and she had to clear her throat before trying again. He was just so near . That commanding presence of his was having a strangely befuddling effect on her senses.

“That’s not necessary, Your Highness. I can tolerate gossip. It’s nothing new for me.”

“That may be,” said the prince, unyielding. “But I don’t intend to tolerate it on your behalf.”

“Please.” Flora was beginning to feel distressed. She regretted her outburst. “You’re going to have plenty to contend with. You don’t need to worry about me. I don’t expect consideration from the king, or from anyone else. It only bothered me because it was you, and I…”

She trailed off, feeling a traitorous flush. She was letting herself get flustered and saying too much. The prince didn’t need to hear how comfortable she’d felt with him during their journey. He didn’t need to hear that she’d felt dangerously as though she could trust him. Lord Armand was right—she was becoming too informal.

“And you what?” Prince Cassius prompted.

Was it her imagination that he’d somehow shifted even closer?

“I value your good opinion,” Flora said, speaking more evenly. “A guard can’t fulfill his duty without the trust of his charge.”

“I think you mean her duty,” the prince said, with the hint of a smile.

It was an inconveniently appealing expression on him.

“If you value my opinion, I’m honored,” he went on. “It’s high praise from someone who claims that the opinions of others shouldn’t have the power to damage her pride in herself.”

Flora blinked at him, too astonished that he’d remembered and quoted her words to think of a response. She didn’t have time to respond anyway, as a sharp rap at the door caused her to jump backward, feeling guilty.

“Enter.”

Prince Cassius didn’t seem to be similarly discomposed. He raised an eyebrow, apparently amused at her momentary panic, before turning to face the man who was now framed in the doorway.

“Ah yes, thank you for attending,” he said, speaking more warmly to the physician than Flora had heard him speak to anyone else at the castle.

“What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time, Your Highness?” The man spoke with a fatherly air that set Flora at ease. “I thought you’d outgrown your tendency to mischief.”

The prince grinned boyishly. “Almost. I wasn’t doing anything reckless on this occasion. I was merely shot with an arrow.”

“Indeed?” the physician said politely. “Merely that, was it?”

Prince Cassius’s grin broadened as he allowed himself to be waved onto an armchair. The physician put down a bag on a nearby table and rummaged through it. He cast an eye in Flora’s direction, his gaze lingering on her bandage.

“And who is this young lady? Another patient for me?”

“I’m afraid so,” the prince said. “Flora is a temporary addition to my personal guard, and she also ran afoul of an arrow during the same incident.”

The physician clucked his tongue. “Ah well, you young people will be taking risks.”

Flora met Prince Cassius’s eyes, finding it suddenly difficult to keep a straight face. The prince wasn’t even trying.

“We can’t help ourselves, you know,” he told the physician. “We become too bored with the ways of our elders.”

The older man chuckled as he examined Prince Cassius’s wound. “This is nothing drastic,” he informed the prince. “I’ll just re-dress it, and as long as you keep it clean and rest it for the next week or two, I don’t anticipate any problems.”

“Thank you,” Prince Cassius told him. “Now I just need to prevent my mother from hearing about it, and all will be well.”

“Ah.” The physician paused in the act of winding a clean bandage around the wound. “Her Majesty is aware. I was on my way to attend her when I received your message. It was necessary for me to send an errand boy to inform her of the reason for my delay.”

Prince Cassius let out a low, pained groan. “That’s unfortunate. But I suppose she was bound to hear about it sooner or later.”

“You oughtn’t to keep secrets from your mother, Your Highness,” said the physician, the scolding tone just what he might use if the prince had been a young boy. “No good will come of it.”

“Easy for you to say,” sighed Prince Cassius.

Flora was bursting to know why he didn’t want his mother to learn of his injury, but she didn’t ask. The physician’s manner was comforting, but she was still no longer alone with the prince, and she therefore didn’t consider herself to have permission to speak freely.

The physician turned to her, his smile friendly. “Now, young lady, whom am I treating?”

“My name is Flora,” she told him. “I’m a companion and personal guard to Princess Miriam of Siqual, but I’ve been assigned to aid in Prince Cassius’s protection until their betrothal is formalized.”

The physician raised an eyebrow, his curious expression carrying no judgment. “An unconventional choice for a guard, aren’t you?”

“Don’t be deceived by appearances,” the prince commented from where he was still reclined in the armchair. “She might not look strong, but her specialty is magic craft. She can do a great deal with only a small amount of movement. And she has all these sneaky tricks for generating it, like flicking her hair around and such. None of my other guards can do that.”

Flora stared at him. He’d noticed that? He’d been paying closer attention to her than she’d realized.

“Well, women do have their tricks,” the physician said. “There’s no denying that.” He sent Flora a wink. “I’ve been the king’s personal physician for twenty years, and I’m pretty well-respected around here. But my wife has me wrapped around her little finger nonetheless.”

Flora grinned, warming to the easygoing older man. His attention returned to the mangled skin he’d just exposed, and he clucked his tongue.

“This injury is worse than the prince’s, I’m afraid. And it’s been dressed much more poorly.”

“What do you mean?” Prince Cassius straightened in his seat, frowning. “The same medic dressed both at the time of the attack.”

The physician shook his head. “Well, he didn’t give equal care to both. This was a slapdash job, which is all backward considering it’s the worse injury. And I’m to understand you then rode horseback for hours? I’m guessing it’s been stinging something fierce.”

“It’s been sore,” Flora acknowledged.

From the way the prince’s frown deepened, she suspected he knew she was understating it.

“I’m afraid it’s going to hurt a lot more, because I need to properly clean it then completely re-dress it,” the physician said apologetically. “Otherwise we risk infection.”

“I can handle it,” Flora assured him. “Do whatever you need to do.”

“Isn’t there anything you can give her to help with the pain?” The prince was on his feet now. He approached them with a concerned expression.

“There’s a magical remedy that can numb the effect of pain on the mind a little bit,” the physician said. “It’s meddling with the mind, though, so it requires the patient’s informed consent. I don’t usually offer it because most patients don’t have the requisite understanding of the magic involved to be able to properly consent.” He considered Flora. “But if you’re trained in magic craft…”

She nodded. “I know the enchantment you’re talking about. I never learned to do it myself, but I comprehend its function.”

“And its risks?” he pressed.

She nodded, narrowing her eyes. “I don’t know you very well, to be letting you meddle with my mind. I’ve heard the horror stories.”

There was a twinkle in the physician’s eyes. “I’d reassure you that I’m trustworthy, but that won’t carry much weight given the whole point is you don’t know me.”

“I’d trust him with my life, for what it’s worth,” the prince interjected. “In fact, I’ve needed to on occasion. I used to get myself into some serious scrapes.”

Flora considered him with interest. “I wouldn’t have guessed that you were a reckless youth, Your Highness.”

“I was bored,” he told her with a faint smile. “Once I was given official responsibilities, everything changed.” There was the hint of a sigh in his voice. “Well, it had to change, didn’t it?”

“Hm.” Flora was skeptical. “You’re telling me that you’re less bored now that your time is filled with state duties?”

He laughed, acknowledging her point. “Why are we talking about me? We’re supposed to be cleaning your wound.”

She grimaced. “You’re right. Go on, then,” she told the physician. “Meddle with my mind.”

“Very well.” He cocked an eyebrow at the prince. “I trust you’ll be my witness of informed consent being given, Your Highness?”

“Of course,” said Prince Cassius.

The doctor nodded, rubbing his hands together in a businesslike way.

Flora could sense the Dust puffing out in tiny clouds from the movement. That wasn’t the magic he would use for the mind-altering enchantment, however. The type of movement was relevant to what the magic would comfortably do. He would need something more complex, not to mention something that would create more motion. Simple movement of limbs generated very little power.

She watched curiously as he pulled a scarf from his bag. It was silken and light, its colors a mesmerizing blend of red to purple to blue.

“That’s lovely,” she commented.

He smiled. “I’m glad you think so. It’s designed to occupy the mind. It’s part of the enchantment, in a sense.” He narrowed his eyes as he stared across the prince’s receiving room. “It’s not as windy a day as I’d like, but I think it’ll do. Come, let’s move closer to the window. ”

They did so, the prince striding in front to helpfully open the window.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” The physician stuck his head out, assessing the breeze.

Curious herself, Flora put an arm out the window. They were on the third level of the castle, and a decent little wind swirled around her hand. She could feel its movement, the Dust slipping through her fingers and out of reach. The movement of the wind itself was harnessable, of course. But working directly with the elements was a skill that required not only a lot of finesse, but incredible energy. It was what made Lord Armand’s rain-based enchantment so impressive. Infuriating, heavy-handed, illegal…but impressive.

The physician likely didn’t have that level of skill in magic craft. And even if he did, he couldn’t afford to expend that kind of energy, not when he was about to perform a medical procedure.

“This will help,” the older man said cheerfully, seizing a hook-ended pole that was used for opening and closing high windows.

He knotted the scarf securely around it, then poked it out of the window. As the other two watched in interest, he flicked the pole neatly, so that the whole scarf poured out of the window and caught the wind. It danced before their eyes, weaving back and forth in a complicated rhythm that the physician had clearly used many times before.

It was effective. Flora could feel the Dust streaming out from the scarf in a complex spiral. The physician hadn’t yet taken hold of it, but he no doubt would.

“Focus your gaze on the scarf,” he told her. “Try to let the colors and the rhythm captivate your mind. Do you know how to let me in? ”

She nodded nervously. She understood in theory. In the same way that taking control of the magic created by someone else’s movement required wrestling it from them in a battle of magical will—and cost more energy than you would gain from the use of that magic—using magic to affect someone else’s mind required incredible strength and energy…unless they willingly let you in.

She was more practiced at keeping people out, but she was willing to try.

She stared at the scarf, letting her mind drift with its flapping waves and her magical sense be saturated with awareness of the Dust stirred by its movement. She could feel when the physician formed that magic into an enchantment, but she tried not to focus on the mechanics of it. Instead she stilled her thoughts in an effort to dismantle the natural protections that usually kept her mind safe from magical attack.

If her body was as easily shielded, she wouldn’t be in this mess, because the tether would never have happened.

The thought floated through her awareness as she felt the physician’s magic enter her mind. It was an alarming sensation. Trust was most definitely required in order to let anyone alter her awareness this way. She hoped she hadn’t erred in agreeing.

With the thought came a vicious jab of pain in her shoulder. She drew in a sharp breath between her teeth. She hadn’t even realized the physician had started his work.

“Are you all right, Flora?” The prince’s concerned voice entered her awareness.

“Try to lower your defenses, child.” The physician’s soft instruction made her realize that she’d unintentionally begun to fight his intervention again.

How could she help being tense? She knew nothing of the physician—in reality, it was the prince she was choosing to trust.

For some reason the thought calmed her. She tried to focus her attention away from the pain and back toward relaxing the will that wanted so badly to fight against outside interference. Slowly, she felt her mind go fuzzy again, the pain receding to a dull ache as the physician continued to poke and pull.

Flora’s eyes drifted from the fluttering scarf on the pole—which she realized the physician was now holding between his knees so as to free his hands—to Prince Cassius’s face.

“I hope I’m not wrong to trust you,” she said, studying his features pensively. “I have a lot of reasons not to want strangers poking around in my mind.”

“Do you?” The prince’s eyebrows went up. “How about you tell me one?”

The physician cleared his throat. “I don’t think so, Your Highness. You’re here to ensure I don’t take liberties with the access this young lady has given me to her mind. Part of my responsibility is not to allow you to do so either.”

“Sorry.” The prince sent the physician a smile that looked more boyish than usual. “You’re right, of course.”

Flora took the words in, but her mind didn’t make much sense of them. She was sure it was nothing she need worry about.

“That jacket really is very fancy,” she commented instead. “I admired it the whole way from Siqual, when I was riding behind you.” She reached out a finger to trace a pattern of the brocade on the prince’s sleeve. His arm jerked slightly under the contact, and she pulled her eyes to his face. “Your face is fancy, too,” she informed him. “Are you aware that your eyes match the jacket perfectly? I suppose that’s why you chose it.”

“I…uh…” The prince’s expression suggested he was holding in laughter, but that didn’t seem right. She hadn’t said anything funny. She caught the physician sending the prince a warning look, which didn’t make sense either.

Something swirled in her mind, some awareness of something she should have said already but hadn’t. She grasped at it, her mind retreating further from the pain that sometimes breached her pleasant fuzziness of thought.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly. “That’s what I needed to say.”

“What?” The prince looked startled. “What could you have to be sorry for?”

She gestured toward his fresh bandage. “I let you get shot with an arrow. I’m supposed to be your bodyguard, and I didn’t protect you.”

“Flora.” His voice was gentler. “It’s not your job to—”

“Yes it is.” She shook her head in contradiction. “And I could have done more. But I was cowardly. I kept remembering about the other man falling from the tree. I didn’t want to get involved. I let the other guards do it all, and you got shot because of it.” She nodded to where the physician was still working. “I deserve this.”

The prince’s face was suddenly right in front of hers. He must have knelt down, but she hadn’t seen him do it. She blinked a few times, struggling to focus properly.

“Flora.” His voice was firm. “You do not deserve any of this. You’ve been treated abominably, and you’ve taken it with incredible grace. My injury isn’t your fault. None of this mess is.”

“Hm.” She flicked her fingers through the hair that sat almost on his shoulders. “I know it’s a mess, but I’m not entirely sorry. I should regret the delay to the betrothal, but I’m not sure I do.”

“I think you shouldn’t talk, miss,” the physician cut in suddenly. For some reason his tone was laced with discomfort and sympathy. “Just rest while I finish up. I’m almost done.”

“All right,” Flora said compliantly. She certainly felt weary.

“There we go,” the man said shortly afterward, leaning back and smiling at her. “You need to rest it, but you’ll be just fine.”

“Thank you,” she said, moving the shoulder gingerly. The numbness of her mind was starting to recede, much to her regret.

“My pleasure, child,” the physician said. He seemed to take in her grimace, because he added, “And yes, I’m afraid it’s going to hurt. I’ve let the pain-softening magic die away. I could set it up to last longer, but I’m expected elsewhere.” He cleared his throat. “And it would be irresponsible to leave you under its effects if I can’t stay to monitor you.”

“It’s no problem,” Flora said quickly. Her mind was becoming clearer by the second. The pain was uncomfortable, but much better than it had been before the physician’s attentions. Her words were sharper now as well. She felt like she was emerging from underwater. “Truly, thank you. It feels much better.”

“Yes, thank you,” the prince said, smiling at the physician.

Bizarrely, the older man responded by considering Prince Cassius with an expression of caution. “I thought you said you weren’t in any trouble, Your Highness.” The murmur was low enough that Flora barely caught it .

The prince sent the physician a sharp look, but made no reply. A moment later, the physician had left, leaving Flora trying to put the pieces together.

Her mind went back over the last half an hour, unease seeping in.

“I felt very strange with his magic in my mind,” she said slowly. “Did I…did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

Prince Cassius shook his head, his expression unconvincing. “Of course not.” He ran a hand over the sleeve of his jacket, his voice becoming brisk. “It’s past time for you to be shown to your suite. It’s a mirror image of this one, but smaller. It should be almost entirely within twenty feet. Perhaps if we’re each at the far end of our suites—the respective bedchambers—we might push it. But the set up should allow us some measure of privacy.”

“That would be welcome,” Flora said faintly. “I assume you’ll be attending dinner soon, and of course I’ll need to accompany you. Do you think I can rest until then?”

“Of course,” he said quickly. “I’ll show you where to go.”

She waved her good hand. “No need, Your Highness. I remember.”

She’d almost reached the doorway to the corridor when the door flew open, and a silk-clad figure sailed dramatically into the room.

“Cassius! My only child! What’s this I hear about an attack on your life?”

The prince’s sigh was so soft, Flora almost missed it.

“I’m fine, Mother. No harm done.”

“No harm done?” the queen protested. “With that ghastly bandage on your arm?”

Flora stared, stunned, as the older woman made a gesture of despair. Behind her in the corridor, several well-dressed women of a similar age loitered. Flora’s eyes flitted to the prince, to find him watching her. With the slightest flick of the head, he seemed to say, go while you can .

It was all the dismissal she needed. She slipped past the newcomer and out the door. The queen didn’t seem to have even remarked her presence, but the women accompanying her certainly did. Flora kept her expression stoic as she walked past them, noting how they stared at her and whispered behind their hands.

So the gossip began.