father wanted me to observe a council meeting.
Do not skip, Ryo. My father’s council was meeting with a Savak cleric. Now was not the time to skip.
A slight bounce to my step, however, was acceptable.
Tomlinson scowled when I caught up with him. “I do apologize for taking you away from such noble pursuits,” he said with a sneer.
I rolled my eyes. “I’ll have you know that card game was well within my mother’s code of conduct.”
He clearly had more opinions, but he ducked his head in a bow. “How Your Highness behaves is none of my concern.”
We turned a corner from my hallway. My collar felt hot all of a sudden. “It isn’t. Especially since Sir Grigfen didn’t show, and Lady Dagney wasn’t invited—”
“That is Lady Tomlinson to you. If you speak to my daughter at all. Which you should not, unless you are in a crowd of witnesses and I am observing with my grip on my sword.”
I chuckled. “Honestly, Sir Tomlinson, you have no reason to fear. It’s very unlikely that Lady Dagney would break my heart. Though I am touched for your concern for me.”
Davi broke in, “You see, Sir Tomlinson. Girls, for the prince, are like coins. Easy to win, easy to lose.”
“Better in piles,” Fio supplied.
I snorted. In truth the only similarity between girls and coins was that I had to make a full accounting of each to my mother. “Unless, of course, you weren’t worried for your own crown prince’s heart?”
Davi gave a false gasp. “The disloyalty to the Crown!”
I placed my hand on my heart and mock fainted.
Sir Tomlinson stopped his quick assault down my halls and raised a finger. “My daughter would rip you to pieces.”
I bowed. “I thank you heartily for your warning. I shall endeavor to leave your daughter far from my attention.”
“Good.”
I grinned and made my way through the polished stone hallways, through arches of sunlight that warmed the floors. Now he was following me. “Though now that I’ve thought on it, Lady Dagney is interesting, in her own way. I believe she bested me in an archery tournament once, and there was something so fascinating about the crease between her eyebrows. Most other noble young women of my acquaintance view me as a path to becoming queen, so they store their patience in large vials. She, however, seems to not understand that I am constantly joking. A serious girl, your Dagney.”
“Some things are not jokes, Your Highness,” Sir Tomlinson said.
I’d worked my way under his collar. My cheek lifted, despite my attempt to keep a smile off my face. “Of course that does make her more fun to tease. I wonder if she plays cards.”
Sir Tomlinson turned a shade of pink I’d not yet seen, so I decided to lay off him about his daughter. Truth was I sometimes forgot Grigfen even had a little sister. She was always so content to stay home with her books. Besides, I wouldn’t risk Grig’s friendship over a pretty set of shoulders. There were plenty of other options out there. I loved women—their intelligence, their kindness, their stubborn bravery, not to mention the softness of their skin—but once I met the right girl there would be room in my heart for only one. I wanted a love like my parents had. A love of equals, that could last forever, long past legends.
But I’d yet to meet a girl who could see past my crown.
Sir Tomlinson fumed down two flights of granite stairs and across the wood-paneled entrance hall, each slammed heel a punch line that tickled me no end.
We crossed into my father’s council room and I lost my grin.
Perhaps it was the length of the ancient table, the carved map that covered the length of a wall, or the shadows on the council members’ faces, but the mood seemed sober and ominous. Sucked dry, as it were. A chorus of Historians in raven-feather robes and silver masks surrounded the edge of the room. At the center, my father’s council and the Savak cleric sat around a long table.
Sir Tomlinson took his seat at my father’s left, and my father dismissed my guards.
The lone empty seat was reserved for my uncle, so I stood among the Historians.
“Seen anything naughty lately?” I asked the closest Historian.
They did not respond. Not even a chuckle.
I could never read the Historians, not with their expressions hidden behind their carved masks. They were tasked to record everything of note for posterity, refusing to influence history, only