So nothing there, other than that he was probably still underage and that someone in his family admired Titus the Great.
“Does that tell you who you are?” she asked, her chin pointing toward his wand.
The significance of her question did not escape him. Does that tell you who you are? She assumed that he did not otherwise know his own identity. Which was quite true but hardly the conclusion someone would come to, from knowing him for all of a few minutes, unless . . .
Unless she also did not know that about herself.
He handed over one of the cards from his wallet. She examined it carefully, front and back, murmuring spells to reveal hidden writing. But it was what it was, an ordinary nonmage calling card.
“Do you have anything that tells you who you are?” He asked the same question in return.
She looked up for a second, as if debating whether she wished to give any answers, reached into her trousers pocket—and went completely still. He heard it too. Something was coming up from behind them, something big and metallic, scraping the bedrock as it approached.
CHAPTER 6
England
“TAKE A LOOK AT THIS,” said Iolanthe. She opened a drawer, took out a framed photograph, and handed it to Wintervale.
Wintervale, Cooper, and Titus were in her room. They had just come back from their last class on a short day. It was hours from teatime, but she had offered to share a cake from High Street and Mrs. Dawlish’s boys were not known to turn down opportunities to eat.
Wintervale whistled at the photograph. “Nice.”
Cooper took the framed photograph from him. “Pretty.”
“I kissed her,” said Iolanthe.
Titus, who had been examining a tin of biscuits from her cupboard, did not look up. “I have killed more dragons than you have kissed girls, Fairfax.”
“And how many dragons have you killed, Your Highness?” asked Cooper eagerly.
“None.”
Wintervale nudged Iolanthe. “Fairfax, I do believe the prince has insulted your manhood.”
“My dear Wintervale,” said Iolanthe, “the prince has just admitted to having never brought down a single firedrake in his entire life. How could he possibly insult my manhood?”
Titus glanced at her then, a slight, knowing smile on his face. The effect of that smile was a streak of heat across her skin.
Cooper thrust the photograph toward Titus. “Do you want to see the girl Fairfax kissed, prince?”
The prince barely scanned the picture. “Ordinary.”
“His Highness is jealous because he wishes he could have kissed her,” Iolanthe said to Cooper and Wintervale.
“I do not kiss commoners,” said Titus, looking her full in the eyes.
She was most certainly a commoner, without a drop of aristocratic blood. And he had most certainly kissed her at every opportunity.
“No wonder you are so ill-tempered all the time,” she replied.
Wintervale and Cooper laughed.
The door swung open and Sutherland poked in his head. “Gentlemen, I have excellent news: we could be looking at twenty-four hours of debauchery.”
“Every day of my life is twenty-four hours of debauchery,” Titus said, his attention again on the biscuit tin. “You will have to do better than that, Sutherland.”
This took Sutherland aback. He was one of those boys who had thought Titus an insignificant Continental princeling who ruled over a dilapidated castle and ten acres of land. But after the events of the Fourth of June, Sutherland had become rather more respectful. He stood at the door, blinking a little, not quite sure how to respond.
“Don’t listen to him, Sutherland. His Highness knows as much about debauchery as he does about killing dragons,” said Iolanthe. “Now tell me your news.”
Sutherland cleared his throat rather sheepishly. “My uncle has a house in Norfolk, on the coast. He has agreed to let me have the use of it to entertain a few of my friends. We can make a trip of it Saturday and Sunday—play a bit of cricket, shoot some grouse, and lay waste to a very fine collection of cognac.”
Wintervale was on his feet. “I am all for it.”
“And everyone else?” Sutherland gestured at the rest of the room.
“They too, of course,” Wintervale answered for them.
“Excellent. I will have my uncle issue a letter to Mrs. Dawlish, stating that he will ensure adequate supervision and allow only activities that strengthen both body and soul.”
“Which encompasses laying waste to his very fine collection of cognac, I take it,” said Iolanthe.
“Precisely!” Sutherland winked. “And if Kashkari returns in time, let him know he is also invited.”
Sutherland sauntered off. Wintervale and Cooper, too, departed, after they had ransacked Iolanthe’s supply of cake. Titus remained, consuming a scone at a leisurely pace, studying her from across the room.
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