that plate of food and ate another one, and gulped down three glasses of a sweet cranberry-apple punch with a refreshing zing of lemon.
Leonidas stopped eating after just one plate, but I kept chewing, working on my third serving of everything. While I ate, he talked about inane things. The food, the weather, the Mortan gladiator troupes and their popular fighters. All the usual things one would chitchat about over breakfast. I made the appropriate grunts when called upon, but I mostly concentrated on shoveling food into my mouth. My body needed fuel to finish recovering from the injuries I’d sustained in the mine, and I didn’t know when I might get another chance to eat.
I was wondering if I could stuff another pancake into my stomach when Leonidas pushed back from the table. My hand tightened around my fork, but he merely went over and grabbed a long purple riding coat from a rack in the corner. He returned and held the garment out to me.
“May I?” he murmured.
I eyed him with suspicion, but he didn’t seem to be up to anything nefarious, and I didn’t sense any magic or poison emanating from the garment, so I released my fork, stood up, and reluctantly turned my back to him. Leonidas slipped the coat onto my arms. His warm breath brushed up against my cheek, and a ribbon of heat unspooled in my stomach.
I stepped away from him and buttoned up the coat, which was similar to his black one, although it was obviously made for a woman. I wondered why it was in his library—and who might have worn it before me.
“You looked a bit chilled,” Leonidas murmured. “That should keep you warm.”
He was right. Even with the fire, the library was still cool and drafty, and the coat was surprisingly warm, soft, and lightweight. I drew in a breath. The garment also smelled like honeysuckle, like him, which both pleased and annoyed me.
“Thank you,” I muttered.
“Let’s take a walk. There is so much more of the palace for you to see.” His voice wasn’t particularly loud, but I once again got the impression he was saying the words for someone else’s benefit, instead of mine.
Leonidas held his arm out to me again. I stared at it—at him—still trying to determine his motives. Just because he hadn’t killed me yet didn’t mean that he didn’t have some awful death in mind for me later. But I wasn’t going to get any answers by standing here, so I threaded my arm through his again.
He opened the library doors with a wave of his hand, and we stepped back out into the hallway. A servant was standing a few feet away, ostensibly dusting a table, although she kept sneaking glances at us. Leonidas walked right on by the old woman as if he didn’t even see her, much less realize that she was spying on him.
The prince led me through several corridors. The servant trailed after us, but Leonidas finally lost her by climbing up some steps, quickly walking along a hallway to a different set of steps, going down them, and doubling back the way we’d just come.
We didn’t pass any more servants, spies, or anyone else. These corridors were sparsely furnished, with only a few tables and chairs, and it was still quite chilly in this section of the palace, despite the fires burning in the libraries and other common rooms. I shivered, grateful for the warmth of the borrowed coat.
“Are you sure we’re actually in Myrkvior?” I sniped as we stepped into yet another deserted corridor. “Or did the queen banish you to the wing that was the farthest away from hers?”
“Something like that,” he replied. “I learned at a very young age that it was safer for me, as a bastard prince, to be as far away from the legitimate Morricone royals as possible.”
“But surely that changed after—” I bit back the rest of my words.
“After my mother killed King Maximus, her own brother, and took the throne for herself? And my uncle Nox killed Mercer, the legitimate crown prince?” Leonidas laughed, although the sound was brimming with bitterness. “Oh, yes. Things did change after that. But not for the better. Not for everyone.”
Not for me.
He didn’t say the words aloud, or even think them in his mind, but they still resonated in the air between us. A tiny needle of sympathy pricked my heart. Being a royal was never easy, not even for Princess Gemma with