Page 29 of To Touch A Silent Fury

Heat flushed my cheeks. Was this all some joke? If so, I didn’t understand it. I glanced around at the crowd, and swallowed, remembering Ersimmon’s instruction on my manners. “And I you, my lord. Please, be at ease.”

He straightened, and offered his gloved hand. “Allow me to escort you safely to your next destination.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Then he tilted his head, perplexed by my swift rebuke. “I know where Medrilla’s shop is, and I can get you there without delay.”

I stared between his beckoning hand, the swarming crowd, and the merchant who glared daggers at me. Then I reached out and placed my hand in his. The lord smiled, and in a moment we were moving, the crowd parting for us.

He strode fast, and I kept up as best as I could as he weaved us back through the market and then down an empty side street. Then he stopped.

For a second, my heart leapt, thinking myself once more trapped, but he only turned to me and ducked into yet another bow. “I apologise for the brief manner of our meeting. I thought it best to extract us from the situation as quickly as possible, given the spectators gathered.”

I only managed a nod.

His smile wavered. “I have been most impolite. You are new to our town, and I have not introduced myself. My name is Prince Brascillan. What is your name, fair lady?”

This man was Prince Brascillan? It could not be.

Brascillan was the second son of the King of the Scentlands. Not the heir, that responsibility lay with his older brother, Cratollan, but Brascillan was nominally in charge of the Scentlands’ fleet and was the Lord of Lavendell. Another of King Braxthorn’s nephews. Seth’s cousin. The Dragon’s Prince’s cousin, too, not that I could see much of a familial resemblance. More importantly, I had thought of him last week, and the question echoed back.

Who will win the Laithcart Games?

The answer I should have given that day was standing right before me.

I dipped my head as my mind raced. “My name is Tanidwen, Your Grace.”

“Tanidwen,” he repeated.

I raised my head to find his hazel eyes troubled. This incredibly prim gentleman was Prince Brascillan. A second son with favour to gain, and rumoured skill with a blade. And now, my rescuer. I could hardly believe it. Could he be my future husband?

“I am devastated that your first visit here has been so tainted by that fraudulent merchant,” he said, and his voice sombered. “Tell me, did you truly feel unwell?”

Without truly understanding why, I knew I didn’t want to tell anyone about my power. “I—I didn’t trust him.”

There was no suspicion in his eyes. “You have good instincts, my lady.” He offered his hand once more. “Please, allow me to get you to Medrilla at once.”

I hesitated. “I am surprised you overheard that.”

His cheeks reddened a touch. “I must admit I saw you in the market, and I simply had to meet you.”

He had followed me, then. My heart thundered, and I couldn’t help but let the words fall. “What is it about the Brotherhood that intrigues people so much? Is it so odd that a woman might be amongst them?”

He laughed as his hand dropped back to his side. “Well, your colouring is something. But we have two bound Brothers in Lavendell. One serves me, another serves Knowledge. I have little curiosity for the dealings of the Brotherhood. You, on the other hand, have alighted my curiosity completely.”

“I do not understand.”

He dampened his lower lip and smiled so warmly it made me want to smile, too. “You are beautiful, my lady. Singularly so.”

My breath caught, and I was incredibly aware that I was in an empty alley in an unknown town. With Prince Brascillan. Of all the help Thread Ersimmon had offered, in this respect I was completely in the dark, and I at once felt overwhelmingly naive. I didn’t know much about the dances of romance, but I was certain no promising stories began by walking alone around the back of a market with a stranger.

Then I reminded myself that he had been nothing but kind, and he had just interrupted a merchant from trying to harm me in some way.

“What was it?” I asked, needing both the distraction and the truth. Then I remembered my manners, the Dragon Prince’s scolding coming back to my ears. “Your Grace.”

Brascillan looked confused. “What was what, fair Tanidwen?”

“In the cup,” I explained, ignoring his second compliment entirely. “What did you smell?”