As Titus closed the door behind them, she shuffled the cards. “You’re very good at dispersing a party, Your Highness. Must have taken you years of practice.”
“Incorrect—I was born this talented. But you, it must have taken you years to perfect your act.”
“You refer to my innate and splendid charm?”
“Your charm is about as innate as my truthfulness.”
She gathered the deck in her right hand. The cards flew out of her fingers and landed neatly in the palm of her left hand. “Did you have something to tell me?”
He had not come with any particular purpose. But as her question fell, his answer sprang readily, as if he had been mulling it over for a while. “I have been reading about your guardian. He has not made your life easy.”
“His own life was made impossibly difficult because of me.”
“Relax—I do not question his character. I only want to let you know that you took very good care of him. You have a good heart.”
Her glance, when it came, was as cold as a mountain stream. “I took care of him because I love him—and because I can never do as much for him as he has done for me by taking me in and giving me a home. Your compliments will not earn you greater devotion from my part. I will do as much as the blood oath stipulates and nothing more.”
Clever girl. She made him feel almost transparent.
“Good night, Your Highness.”
Grand, too, dismissing him as if he were a subject of hers, instead of the other way around.
He vaulted the few feet that separated them, kissed her on the cheek, and, before she could quite react, vaulted back to his place by the door. “Good night, Fairfax.”
CHAPTER 12
THE PRINCE WAS MANIPULATING HER, Iolanthe was sure. But to what goal? Did he think that telling her that she was infinitely precious to him, complimenting her on her good heart, or kissing her on the cheek would make her willingly embrace mortal danger for his sake?
Nothing would make her willingly embrace mortal danger for his sake.
But still she tossed and turned for a long time before she fell asleep, the imprint of his cool lips a burn upon her cheek.
The next morning her training plunged her into a story called “Batea and the Flood,” where she had a grueling time holding back a swollen river. More grueling yet was an afternoon division called Greek Testament. Master Haywood had never quite understood her trouble with ancient Greek, pointing out that it was not much more morphologically complex than Latin. But whereas Latin she found no more difficult to master than fire, Greek had always felt like lifting mountains.
By the time she returned to Mrs. Dawlish’s house, she was ready to lie down for a few minutes in her room. But the prince wasn’t done with her.
“Come with me.”
“We already trained for the day.”
“Today is a shorter day at school. On those days, you will have an afternoon session, too.”
She said nothing as she followed him into his room.
“I know you are tired.” He closed the door behind him and directed a keep-away charm at it. “But I also know you are strong—far stronger than you, or perhaps even I, can comprehend.”
She did not feel strong, only trapped.
“Always remember,” he said, as he placed his hand on the Crucible, “that someday your strength will overturn the world as we know it.”
They landed in a part of the Crucible she hadn’t seen before: an apple orchard, the branches heavy with pink-and-white flowers, the air cool and sweet. She shaded her eyes with her hand and looked toward the second sun, pale and barely there. She was peeved at the extra session and angry at everything else in her life, but she couldn’t quite help her fascination with the Crucible. It made her feel as if she were on a different world altogether.
“What story are we in?”
“‘The Greedy Beekeeper.’”
No wonder the buzz of bees echoed in her ears. “What happens in it?”
“You will see.”
She did not like that answer.
Side by side they walked deeper into the orchard. At one point a boulder jutted up from the ground. The prince leaped lightly on top and held out a hand toward her. She ignored him and made her own way across.
“It is only courtesy on my part, Fairfax. You need not worry that taking my hand will bind you more inextricably to me.”
“Perhaps not in any magical manner. But with you, Your Highness, there’s no such thing as simple courtesy. You extend a hand because you want something in return. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday you deem that your premeditated kindnesses will add up to something.”
His response was a slight smile and an admiring gaze. Calculated, all calculated, she reminded herself. All the same, warmth pooled deep inside her.
They came to a clearing in the orchard. She frowned. “Is that a beehive?”
The hive was the familiar round, tapered shape of a skep, but it was three stories tall and measured at least twenty feet across at its base.