I stumbled backward, my arm outstretched in a feeble attempt to keep her off.
She looked at me and tilted her head to the side.
Logic caught up with my racing thoughts. I lowered my hand. Carishina? Orchestrating a dark plot? Impossible. The child was a bit scatterbrained, but she was not evil.
“Why?” I repeated, my voice ragged. I had to clear my throat. “Why did you do it, Carishina?”
“Why not? It was really easy, the way Desian showed me. I got through it in no time. He was really impressed and promised to meet me after dinner for more lessons.”
“No,” I told her. “I don’t want you alone with him at all. Not even to be walked to your room.”
“But—”
“No,” I said, more firmly. “Carishina, there are weird forces at work here. Desian is a shapeshifter, and his powers must be truly remarkable to shrink to such a tiny-sized dragon.” Or the opposite, to have his mass grow into the size of a man.
As expected, Carishina asked, “What’s his size got to do with anything?”
The child really didn’t understand the most basic of concepts. And yet, she’d unraveled my barrier. No, she broke my spell only because I was distracted. If I’d been focused, she never would have been able to accomplish it. But, what of Yarling easily latching on to my magic? Maybe everyone else wasn’t more powerful, it was I’d grown weaker?
“Klint,” Carishina said fondly. “You do the funniest things. Right now, your face looks hilarious!”
I sighed. “Child, do you swear you’re still on my side?”
“Your side? Who else’s would I be on?”
“Desian and the prince.”
“Are you asking me if I’m loyal to the Alma?”
I nodded, glad she grasped my meaning.
Surprisingly, she stood from the bed and drew herself up, matching my height. Her eyes narrowed menacingly. “Klint, sometimes you say very rude things. I have been called by the Alma. I am loyal till death.”
“We are immortal, Carishina,” I told her dryly, but at least her little outburst had convinced me. “You can’t be loyal till death.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Well, then I’m loyal until bound. Since that’s basically the same as death.”
A tremor passed through my body at the mention of being bound. She noticed and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Klint, I wanted to talk to you. You seem very odd when you’re in the presence of the prince. Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine,” I lied.
“You’d tell me if there was something wrong, right?”
I swallowed. “Of course, Carishina. I’d tell you if something were wrong.”
She smiled, and the dimples seemed to make her golden hair shine brighter. “Good, because you’re my best friend.” Then, she leaned forward and kissed my cheek. When she pulled back, she blushed slightly. “You try to act like you’re tough, but I know you’re a big softy inside. We’ll figure this out together.”
She gave my arm a squeeze, then left.
I returned to the bed, my thoughts once again distracted from the subject at hand. The child meant well, and in the large scope of things, her intentions made up for everything. Perhaps I could trust her with this shaming secret. The two of us together could handle anything Yarling could throw at us.
Chapter Eleven
AT DINNER THAT evening, I accidentally initiated the second phase of the plan.
The earlier events had gone well, Franik reported. Antonio had smiled at the prince as he walked past. A success by all accounts. The prince—sitting at the end of the high table—looked like a puffed-up peacock. The bright blue silk he wore didn’t help shatter the illusion.
“So, what’s next?” I asked Franik. I gulped down my wine—a sweet, red variety made from local grapes. Not usually one to indulge, my third glass made my head begin to swim. I didn’t intend to drink so much, except a servant kept refilling my cup.
Franik sat beside me, looking almost as pompous as the prince, in satin of crimson and emerald. Swirling around his own glass of wine, he eyed the crowd of nobles. No doubt he’d find one or two of interest among those gathered. I hoped Carishina would be as lucky.
“Chivalry,” he supplied. “The guardsman must see the prince being chivalrous. To Antonio, and others.”
“How can you manage?”
Franik grinned. “It’s not too difficult. He can play nice when he wants. For some reason, he only lashes out when you’re nearby or mentioned. You must have made a lasting impression on him, Klint. I didn’t realize you were such a bad kisser.”
I glared at him. “I told you, it wasn’t a kiss. Carishina forced my face down. Our lips came into contact. Nothing more.”
His smile became wider. “Then maybe it’s disappointment. Perhaps if you tried again.”
I shivered at the thought of even getting close to the prince. He’d likely slip a dark spell on me if I tried.
Franik looked at me sideways. “In fact, that might not be a bad idea, Klint.”
Wine spit out of my mouth. “What?”
“My plan was to have the guardsman’s affection increase gradually. But perhaps if he saw the prince with another, it would speed up the process?”
Jealousy. The emotion could work as Franik insisted. “Not a bad plan,” I admitted. “We can find Carishina and—”
“No,” Franik cut in. “It has to be you, Klint.”
“Me?” I squeaked. “Why?”
“Because Antonio already knows you to be of interest to the prince. Oh, I understand you don’t have feelings for Yarling, but everyone else heard how you kissed the prince and broke the spell. If we try to rouse the guardsman’s jealousy, it will have to be you.”
“I won’t do it. I won’t be anywhere near the prince.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Klint, this is our best chance. If you can explain to me why this idea won’t work, then let’s hear it. If not, you need to get over there and ask the prince to dance.”
What were my choices? To confess what Yarling had done to me, showing Franik my weakest moment and my greatest shame? Or dance with the prince? Yarling wouldn’t try anything with me in a room full of people.
“Fine. I’ll go ask him to dance. Is Antonio here?”
“Yes, he’s standing beside the door.” Franik pointed at the guard, decked out in resplendent armor, a velvet cap adorning his blond hair, and a spear held at attention to his side. His eyes scanned the room, keeping alert for any sign of danger.
“Make sure he notices us together.”
Franik nodded.
I strode off to the prince, wobbling slightly. In front of him, I bowed at my waist; a very significant sign of respect for any who knew me to be an Alma—and the court knew my whole life story by this point. The prince looked at me, startled.
“Your Highness. May I have this dance?”
He hesitated.
I whispered low enough for only him to hear. “Just trust me. And smile.”
He plastered a smile onto his face, clear from a league away it was forced. It would do, for now. He came around the table and accepted my hand. I led him to the center of the room where the dancers were currently doing a quick jig. At a wave of my hand, the musicians changed the tune to something more fitting, something slow and melodic.
I spun the prince, then placed my hand on his shoulder, allowing him to lead. He naturally fell into the role, pulling me close with his fingers gripping my hip.
“What are you doing?” he hissed through his smile.
“When we spin, check to see if Antonio is looking this way.”
We stepped to the music, rotating slowly around the floor. After a few moments, the prince casually glanced to this right, toward the door where the guardsman stood. “He is,” he reported.
“This may be unorthodox, but we think seeing your attention on another will flare Antonio’s possessive streak. He knows you like him, Your Highnes
s. With your focus suddenly elsewhere, he will be forced to act.”
The prince’s face brightened and his smile relaxed, looking brilliant and beautiful. I almost swooned. My fears were squashed. My thoughts lingered on his unparalleled beauty.
We moved gracefully across the floor. The prince danced superbly, as expected. He seemed surprised I danced skillfully as well. Having spent nearly half of my life in the palace in Farlerotna, I was accomplished in all courtly aspects. Vulten and I had often attended balls and parties at various estates around the kingdom. This was child’s play, a simple waltz.
“You know this dance?” Yarling asked me.
“Yes. It’s the Orchard in Full Bloom.”
He nodded. “You have dances often at the Alma Palace? For some reason, I can’t imagine it.”
I laughed at the image formed in my mind. Those dusty, old magicians dancing? The Alsa Alma prancing about with his hair trailing behind him? “No. I spent a great deal of time in Farlerotna.”
He made an interested noise. “I just returned from there. A trip to secure our trade contracts. Queen Simmone is stunningly beautiful.”
“I agree. She has a lot of her father in her. Even more of her grandfather.” I sighed nostalgically. “Rhille had been a wonderful king. I’m glad his family is still doing so well.”
He appraised me. “How long ago were you there?”
“I taught one of the royal children. Nearly a hundred years ago.”
He stretched out his hand and I dipped under it. When we came back together, he said, “You didn’t strike me as that old.”
“Why not?”
“The way Alma Carishina intimidates you. I thought her older.”
“Intimidates?” I squawked.
The prince laughed, and with the beautiful, tinkling sound, my indignation melted away. I laughed, too.
“I understand,” Yarling confided. “Panpir, my little brother, acts much the same way with me. They like to annoy us, don’t they?”
“I suppose so, Your Highness.” I’d had siblings—not that I remembered them too vividly. I had trouble recalling my days before being sent to the Alma Palace. But Carishina did fit the part of a little sister. “Is Panpir around? I haven’t met him yet.”
The prince leaned in closer, craning his neck over my shoulder. He smelled of the same sweet wine I had indulged in. Below that was the familiar scent of spices and cinnamon. I breathed deeply, inhaling as much as I could.
“He’s sitting beside my father,” Yarling said.
I looked over my shoulder and spied the child, no more than seven years old. He matched the others of the royal family, down to his auburn hair and easy-going smile. He swayed gently to the music. I mentally crossed him off the list of dark wizards; he was obviously much too young to be caught up in such affairs.
“Are you two close?” I asked.
“Yes, very. In fact, we’re closer than the ministers like.” Yarling sighed and met my eyes. “You see, I think Panpir should be the next ruler, not myself. I’ve been quite vocal with them on the subject. They disagree. They see him as a child still, so they can’t recognize his full potential. He’s brilliant. He’d make a much better king than me.”
The tenderness in the prince’s voice struck me with its sincerity. “What about Desian? Does he have ambitions for the throne?”
Yarling chuckled again, and the sound made my heartbeat speed up. “No. Desian is many things, but not a king. The only reason he stays here is for me. The only reason he accepted the lordship is because of me.”
“Why would he do it? There has to be something he gets out of it.”
The prince’s eyes crinkled from his smile. “Alma, you are a bit slow at figuring out the situation. Desian is my familiar. He’s only here to serve me.”
I nearly gasped but caught myself in time. I kept my face fixed in a smile. “A familiar? Of course, that makes sense.”
Yarling nodded. “My parents think he’s just a street urchin. I love them dearly, but they don’t comprehend the depth of my magic. Another reason why I’m not destined to rule here.”
Such a skilled wizard as king? The Alsa Alma might not approve of such a thing. Of course, despite Yarling’s skills, he couldn’t go too far; he lacked the mark and calling of an Alma. He’d age and die like a normal person.
“And Roberta is here to train you?”
He snorted. “Hardly. She’s here so I can train her.”
I stared at him with newfound respect. “Did you know she and Desian were cooking up some sort of plot?”
To my surprise, Yarling laughed. “Of course, I do. Desian doesn’t keep secrets from me. As you know, Roberta is little better than a child in terms of magical ability. She begged my mother—her cousin—for a place to practice in peace. My mother allows her to brew those potions for headaches, but we all have little doubt Roberta will grow any better at the craft.”
“And so, the plot?” I prompted.
“She wanted to be seen as the hero. She wanted to be the one to convince Father a kiss would do the trick. She didn’t succeed, and now she’s even more upset.”
I shook my head. “This is why it’s best for untrained wizards to keep away from any and all magic. It only leads to more suffering.” I stiffened when I realized I’d insulted the prince by my statement too. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I meant no offense.”
A hint of pink touched his cheeks. At least he could keep his anger in check when necessary.
“Regardless,” Yarling continued. “Desian told me how she couldn’t convince my mother a kiss would wake me. He’s very kind, Desian. He wanted her to have her chance, too.”
“That is unusually kind for a familiar.”
Yarling nodded.
The song ended and we took a step away from each other. I bowed deeply. He dipped his head to me.
“Thank you for the dance,” I said.
“I hope this worked.”
Worked? What was he…? Oh, right. It had all be a ploy to capture Antonio’s interest. Somehow, I’d forgotten.
“I’m certain it will, Your Highness.”
I held his hand in mine, escorting him back to his table. Then I returned to my seat. As I slumped into the chair, Carishina and Franik descended on me.
“You two are so cute together,” Carishina gushed.
At the same time, Franik said, “You did perfect, Klint. Antonio had his eyes glued to you the whole time.”
I glanced at the guardsman; his eyes roamed the hall once again. I couldn’t see what Yarling admired in the man. Tall and a bit pudgy, he had flat eyes, plain hair, ordinary features.
Franik said, “I think this plan may work better. Tomorrow, instead of the ministers, I want you to walk with the prince.”
My gaze snapped to Franik. “You want me to what?”
“I want Antonio to see you with the prince.” There wasn’t even a hint of gloating on his face. He honestly thought this a good idea.
I groaned. “Can’t Carishina do it?”
“I can!” Carishina volunteered.
Franik shook his head. “No. Antonio took the bait while Klint danced with the prince. We need to keep the guardsman’s interest. We stay on this course, for now.”
My face and Carishina’s mirrored each other in our disappointment.
Chapter Twelve
THE NEXT MORNING, Franik appeared outside my door with the sunrise.
“Can’t you come back later?” I grumbled as he pushed his way past me into my room.
“This is important, Klint. Weren’t you the one who issued me the task of making Guardsman Antonio fall in love?”
I grunted. “They can fall in love as easily in the afternoon.” I returned to my bed and plopped down on the cushiony mattress, burying my face into the pillow.
Franik tsked. I felt the right side of the bed sink under his weight. “I see you didn’t have company last night.”
I didn’t even raise my head, only muttered into the pillow’s
fluff. “And you did?”
“Maybe.”
“You wouldn’t have brought the subject up unless you wanted to talk about it.”
“Since you phrase it so eloquently.” I could tell he smirked by the tone of his voice. “Lady Marla Vionell. One of the highest ministers on the council, too. There’s a chance she’ll become queen. Her husband’s away on business so she craved companionship.”
“So fascinating.”
“You’re the one who asked.”
“What about Carishina? Did she leave with anyone?” The children were much more eager to play with royalty than I. And both had likely stayed out past their bedtime.
“No idea. I did see her dancing with Desian before I left with my lady.”
I sat up jerkily, my stomach clenching. “Desian? I told her to keep away from him!” As a familiar, he would be capable of all sorts of magicks we weren’t. Though he now seemed less suspicious, he might still be evil.
“Relax. I passed her on the way here, so she’s not in any danger. You think ‘dark wizards’ would attempt to hurt an Alma no more than five paces from two other Almas?”
I didn’t like the way he said “dark wizards,” as if the concept was a made-up fairytale.
“But since you’re up,” Franik continued with a grin.
I glared at him but rolled out of bed. I was wide awake now, likely his goal.
Down to business then. Franik wasted no time in raiding my wardrobe. Or trying to.
“You actually wear this outside the Alma Palace?” His fingers pulled on the sleeve of one of my tunics. The plain cotton looked even more threadbare compared to his current velvet outfit.
“Where else would I wear them, Franik?”
“They might do for pajamas?”
“Then what would I wear outside?”
“You’d be better off naked.”
I stared at him, not even a twitch of a smile on my lips. “Did you have a purpose in insulting my wardrobe?”
“Only this”—he pulled on another one of my shirts—“won’t impress anyone, least of all the guardsman. I suggest something a little flashier. Something bound to get you noticed.”
I shook my head. “No, Franik. Don’t you see you’re going about it all wrong? If you make a big show of it, Antonio will know it’s been orchestrated. But if you’re subtle, coy, unobtrusive, then it’s more believable. If I were courting the prince, I wouldn’t go out of my way to make sure everyone knew. I’d try to avoid unnecessary attention.”
Breaking His Spell Page 6