I paused. Councilor Ludvig was staring at something behind me, his expression bemused. I took a deep breath. “I suppose he’s behind me.”
“Right on the first try.” Kalen leaned against the door, hands folded across his chest. As was customary for Deathseekers, he was dressed all in black, like that was supposed to make him look more impressive. His heartsglass swung from his neck, a bright silver. He gave the Isteran politician a small, respectful nod. “Lord Ludvig, it’s good to see you again.”
“Likewise, Kalen.”
“How is King Rendorvik?”
“Refusing my advice, as he is wont to do nowadays. How are the prince and his father?”
“Doing well. Please send our regards to his Highness.” Kalen turned to me. “Kance wants to see you now,” he said shortly, then walked back out.
“I’d advise you not to get on his bad side,” Councilor Ludvig said as I rose to my feet, careful not to trip over my dress. “Kalen is Prince Kance’s closest confidante after all. Perhaps if you opened up to him, he’d relent.”
I sighed, then leaned over to give the councilor a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. “Given that his point of contention is me, I believe the point is moot.”
? ? ?
“Wait up!” I yelled, hurrying after Kalen as he stalked back to the castle, attracting more than a few curious stares. “I’m sorry for what I said, but I’m not the only one at fault. You’ve been nothing but rude to me since we met.”
“I have no need to explain myself to you,” he said stiffly.
“I thought we’d reached some kind of understanding.” Which was true. He’d been almost friendly in the weeks after we’d fought the azi at Lake Strypnyk, but that fragile amiability disappeared and he was back to criticizing how I fought, what I did, and what I said.
“You thought wrong.”
I glared at him. “Out with it.”
“Out with what?”
“You heard me listing what I don’t like about you. It’s not very sporting of me, I know. So now it’s your turn. Say something about me that you don’t like.”
“This is not the place or the time—”
“If you had your way, there will never be the place or the time for it because you’re as dense as a rock on Mithra’s Wall, with the immovability to match. See? It’s not that hard to share your feelings. Let it all out. Give me just three things—”
He glowered but took the bait. “You’re overconfident. It always gets you in trouble. And you’re irresponsible. You don’t think through your actions and then expect someone else to bail you out—your brother, usually. You have this annoying way of scrunching up your nose when you don’t like what you’re being told to do, which makes you look even more ridiculous.”
I clapped a hand over the bridge of my nose, suddenly aware I was doing exactly that. “Fine, you’ve said your—”
“You never listen. To anyone. You’re slow to take advice, especially at sword practice. You always think life will turn out for the better, although it never does, but that doesn’t stop you from making the same mistakes again—”
“I said three things, you lout!”
He stopped. For a moment, I thought he was going to smile. A spectrum of colors spread across his heartsglass; his initial anger was abating, giving way to amusement and grudging acceptance—and something else. But when he saw where my gaze lingered, his heartsglass turned back to its unblemished silver.
“And you’re still a danger to Kance,” he added quietly. “You can just as easily lure a daeva to him as kill it.”
“But I haven’t.”
“That doesn’t matter. I’ve seen more Dark asha than you, and they’ve all burned out sooner or later. Mykaela had to kill a fellow bone witch once because she was too far gone in the Dark. You may not have stepped over the line, but you sure as hell enjoy having the magic, and that’s even worse.” His expression was unreadable—I preferred it when he was angry. “My job is to protect Prince Kance. I train you only at Kance’s request and against my better judgment. I am not your friend. And I can’t be in a position where I treat you as one.”
So that was it. With Kalen, it would always be about his duty to the king and the prince. Which still hurt. “Fine. And I’m sorry about my previous outburst. Like you said, I don’t think things through. And whether you believe me or not, I have no intentions of harming the prince. But if we can’t be friends, can’t we at least be civil?”
His shoulders relaxed. “If that’s what you want.”
That wasn’t what I wanted at all, but I gritted my teeth and swallowed my retort. “Swell.”
“Good. Let’s move. Kance is waiting.”
I slunk quietly after him. His words stung—but I couldn’t blame him. My words probably had too.
Prince Kance was up to his ears in paperwork when we entered the room. My asha-sisters Polaire and Zoya were beside him, and all three looked up as we approached. Though Prince Kance looked tired, his features brightened. I hurriedly tucked a few stray hairs back in place, my mood lifting. While seeing Polaire hard at work came as no surprise, Zoya avoided grunt work whenever possible.
Prince Kance apologized. “I asked Kalen not to bother you if you were busy.”
“Yes, he made that very clear to me.” I glared at Kalen, who showed no shame at this concealment.
“As you know, there were reports of a daeva sighted along Odalia’s borders this week,” he began, his bright-green eyes on me. I was wrong; nice didn’t even begin to describe his face.
“An aeshma, yes,” I said.
“We’ve finally tracked it to the Kingswoods. My father gives his leave for you to hunt it down.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
“I wouldn’t think of underestimating you or any other asha, but I can bring an army. More catapults perhaps. Fortifications. It isn’t safe.”
“Your High—”
“Kance.”
“Kance.” I was pleased by his concern—for me?—but I also took in his pallor. “We’ll be fine. I’ve done this before. And you need rest. I’m sure Lady Zoya and Lady Polaire can assist you in the meantime.”
“Lady Zoya is not so sure about that,” Zoya chirped and was swiftly silenced by a stern look from Polaire.
Prince Kance smiled wanly. “Is it starting to show? I’ve been having trouble sleeping. Lady Altaecia’s made me an herbal potion for it.”
“All the more reason not to overexert yourself,” I said.
He shook his head. “I’ve been working on a new form of taxation that will lower land taxes and cut out unnecessary intermediaries. The sooner we can put that into law, the better for Odalia.”
“Shouldn’t the finance minister be overseeing that?”
“The finance minister is good at what he does, but he is also part of the problem. Most officials make concessions and exemptions to curry favor with the nobility, so their reforms impose a heavier tax burden on the poor. I convinced Father that we had to lay the groundwork ourselves to weed out claims of favoritism. With my plan, we can both help our citizens and generate more revenue in under two years. Polaire and Zoya are working with me on the details.”
Kance was perfect—intelligent, compassionate, empathic. How could anyone not like him? I snuck a glance at Kalen. He had said nothing since we’d arrived and lounged by the door like a statue ready to come to life at the first sign of danger.
“And it’s a good plan,” Polaire said with a smile, though she looked tired herself. “Our young prince is quite the genius with numbers. But Tea is right, Kance. That’s enough work for today.”
The prince made a rueful face but nodded, moving to organize his papers. I stepped closer to Polaire, remembering something Kalen had said earlier.
“Mykaela killed a Dark asha before,” I said softly and urgently, not wanting the others to hear. She had told me about that once before when she had taken me to see her raise a daeva for the first time.
Polaire raised an eyebrow. “And what of it?”