When I arrived at the statue there was a hunched figure in a red cape with a long, gray braid sticking out the side of her hood. I approached her nervously. "Ma'am?"
The figure spun around and I gasped when the person withdrew his hood, chuckling. It was Darren wearing a wig, pressing one finger to his lips as he beckoned me forward.
"Darren?" I croaked.
"Gran," he corrected with a grin. He pulled the hood back low over his face and grinned at me. "Are you ready for a real tour of the palace?"
I scanned the gardens anxiously. "What if someone recognizes you?"
"The only servants who know this disguise are loyal. The rest?" He snorted. "They are too blind to see who is right there in front of them."
"What about your father? Don't you need to talk to him?"
Darren shook his head, still smiling. "The king can wait." He drew a deep breath. "The second I tell him my intentions I will be yelled at from dawn until dusk." Darren took a step closer and took my hand in his. "Before I subject myself to that I'd like to spend time with the girl who convinced me she was worth it in the first place."
My cheeks burned. I still wasn't used to Darren talking to me like… like I was special to him. Like he was in love with me.
"Ah," he said, "there's that charming blush I was hoping for. I was beginning to think you didn't care at all."
I raised a brow. "Priscilla paraded you around in front of me for three months, what did you expect me to do?"
He grinned. "So you were jealous."
I glowered as he led me forward. "Of course I was, and don't think I didn't see you kiss her back! Was it really necessary to-"
Darren ducked under a nearby willow and dragged me behind him.
"Darren – what are you doing?"
Darren put a finger to my lips, eyes dancing wickedly. "But did I kiss Priscilla like this?"
When he had finished I was light-headed and the two of us were breathing quite heavily.
Darren released me, staggering backward with a groan. "By the gods, I forgot what that was like."
I just stared at him, unable to speak. How was it that I could have ever thought I'd be happy with Ian? Never once had I felt like that with the fourth-year.
"I guess I should take you on this tour before someone spots us." Darren's eyes fell back to my mouth and a wicked smile played across his lips. "If we stay here any longer, I'm afraid I won't make a very convincing grandmother."
My whole body was a quivering mess. I didn't want to do anything but grab Darren and let him make good on that threat. I didn't care if we were caught. I didn't want to stop this time. I wanted to… What was I thinking? Was I mad? Focus Ryiah!
I swallowed quickly. "Right, let's take that tour shall we… Gran?"
Darren noticed my hesitation and grinned. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure!" The words came out much higher than I had intended.
Darren chuckled. "Alright then, let's start with the kennels – there's someone I want you to meet."
****
"So you are the girl who's put that dopey smile on his face." A large man with a gruff voice missing three front teeth beamed down at me. "'Course I shuda known that it could never be that other one. His highness has never once taken her to meet Wolf."
Darren rolled his eyes. "Just because I smile, Heath, doesn't make Ryiah special."
I elbowed the prince in his stomach and he grinned. "Well, maybe a little."
"So who is 'Wolf?'" I pressed. I hardly knew anything about Darren's life in the palace, and I was curious to find out who this person was.
The man chortled. "Not who. What." He led Darren and I through the building's doors to a large enclosure where twenty hounds relaxed on comfortable oak panels. A second set of steps led up to a second platform where even more of them slept. Against the wall were large metal bins for food and water, and another large door led to a grassy pasture where the dogs could roam during certain hours while the servants supervised. The falconry house was just a bit beyond and I could hear the angry bird cries across the room.
"Is Wolf a hound?" I asked nervously. A hole had formed in the pit of my stomach. I forced myself to ignore it.
At the mention of his name a thin, shaggy coated mutt lifted its head from the middle of the pack. Unlike the sleek, muscled palace hounds, this animal was clearly not used for the hunt. It was scrawny with gray matted fur and timid brown eyes peeking out of the long gray hairs that practically covered its face. It didn't look dangerous, but then old man Crawley's dog hadn't either.
"Come here, boy."
I turned quickly to look at Darren - the tone he had used to call Wolf forward was so different from what he usually used that I almost couldn't believe it had come from him.
Darren didn't notice; he had already hopped the enclosure and was busy embracing the mutt who had suddenly sprung to life and launched himself into his master's arms. The dog was yipping and thumping its tail so loudly that fur was coating the air beside him.
A sense of foreboding filled my chest. I knew what was coming next.