As much as I would have loved a bath, I'm glad for the excuse to leave the room for a while. Sheo is sure to emerge any second in some shameless state of dress, and Shay is still sorting laundry a few feet away, disgusted expression now replaced with one of seething rage. I don't think I've ever seen anyone express so many negative emotions with such intensity in my life. It makes me wonder if he ever smiles, or if it's just me that's caused this uncomfortable mood here.

The journey down the spiral stairs to my bedroom is a short one, to my relief, and I'm even more pleased to see that it's quite a fine room. It's not nearly as large as the one above, and there's only a dressing table and wooden tub for washing up, but I hardly expected it to compare. The ornate furniture seems just as ancient, but less worn and without the accumulation of clutter. It already feels like a place I can make a home. Perhaps not one anyone could visit, but all in all, I'm happy with it.

"Milady, I hope everything is to your liking," Nora says nervously. My many trunks are neatly lined against a wall, and I see that she has already emptied all of them.

"It's perfect." Mostly, I'm grateful for my own bed tonight. "Nora, after my bath, will you show me to the gardens?"

She seems to revive at this joint praise and request, and nods enthusiastically. "Of course, Milady!"

---

The afternoon sun is shrouded in thin clouds by the time I make my way to the garden. By Nora's sound advice in concern for my health, I've decided to postpone bathing until I return indoors, at which point she'll heat it for me again. Despite her constant nervousness and wispy appearance, the girl is both competent and good natured, a rare combination in a servant, and thus far I have no reservations about her whatsoever. Especially when I compare her with her brother.

"Nora," I pause in my step and turn to where she's been trailing behind me, "Please walk with me. I'd like to talk to you."

Nora's eyes go wide, and I’m sure for a moment that she thinks I'm going to scold her. Still, she obediently shuffles over to walk beside me. Her eyes remain fixed on the ground.

"We'll be spending much time together from now on," I begin before her anxiety can rise any further, "so I thought we might get to know one another a little. How old are you?"

If she's relieved at all, I can't see it. Instead, she looks slightly uncomfortable.

"Nineteen, milady."

Our ages aren't that different, after all - I’m only a year older. The closeness in our ages reminds me of the closeness in our ranks at birth. In different circumstances, we might have grown up playing together in the same streets.

I've just decided to postpone this barely begun conversation until this evening, because Nora might feel more comfortable speaking openly in the privacy of my chamber, when I hear footsteps behind us.

"Lady Eileen," a male voice calls to me, "what a pleasant surprise."

I don't normally panic at the prospect of an unexpected conversation, but there's something inherently alarming about an unplanned encounter with the crown prince. I've seen him many times, but have interacted exactly twice: the first, three years ago in an exchange of formal greetings likely forgotten, and the second just yesterday, again in a formal congratulation.

"Your Highness," I turn to fully face him and sink into the deepest curtsy I can manage with my legs still sore from the stairs, "Good afternoon. I hope we have not disturbed your walk."

Prince Luan is taller and broader than his youngest brother, but not quite as handsome. His eyes are a sharp black, and his somewhat tamer auburn hair is swept back and tied above his collar.

"Not at all," he gives a small wave for me to rise, "I've only come out to collect a certain item. May I join you?"

"Of course." It isn't as though I could decline, anyway. I turn to my handmaid, who is still kneeling on the garden path looking positively petrified. "Nora, walk with us."

I have a feeling Nora has never chaperoned anyone in her life, and may not even realize that's what she's doing. Fortunately, she needs only be present. She stares hard at the ground, head still bowed, and quietly falls into step a respectful distance behind us.

Prince Luan takes absolutely no notice of her, though he comments, "Prudent as expected, Lady Eileen. It is no wonder your esteemed reputation is inviolable."

Inviolable by all but himself. I'm aware an escort with him is only a gesture, because should a misunderstanding arise, the only account of what happened that would ever matter to anyone is Luan's. Thankfully, for today today, my main worry is making a good impression on the heir to the throne. Or at least not making a bad one.

"If I may be so bold," he continues as we round a corner, "it is good to see that my brother's… reclusive tendencies… have not held you back from gracing the rest of us with your enchanting presence."

I'm sure this is meant to gauge rather than compliment or critique me.

"You flatter me, Your Highness," I attempt to dodge giving opinion on either Quin or Sheo, "I have yet to appear in public."

He merely smiles at this. "Please, call me Luan."

Again, he's gauging me.

"With all due respect, Your Highness, I would not feel comfortable with such casual address."

Prince Luan chuckles, "Well said, my lady. Compliments to your father - one would never guess the station of your birth. By all means, call me whatever you find most appropriate."

I've heard that particular slight dressed as a compliment often enough that it no longer phases me. With most, I’m sure they don’t realize it, so there’s no harm done. But Prince Luan is not most. He’s quite intentionally reminding me of my place.

"Thank you, Your Highness." My place is here, and I’ll prove it.

We walk in silence for a few minutes before I venture a new subject, mostly so that he can’t spring any of his own on me. "I've heard that you're very dedicated to scholarship. If I may, what is it that you study?"

Prince Luan pauses beneath the blossoming branches of an apple tree. "If I said I study the ancient arts, would you believe me?"

My eyebrows rise and my mouth opens wordlessly despite my intention to remain demure. Arts as in… magic?

He laughs. "The royal family has many ludicrous secrets. I'm sure you've met one of them already, and with that in mind, sorcery is not terribly hard to imagine, no?"

He can spill these secrets to me because no one would believe me if I betrayed them. More importantly, I'm not sure how I feel about the future king dabbling in witchcraft. It's not a forbidden pursuit, but those who practice it are generally considered to be mentally unwell. This new suggestion to the contrary is hard to take in.

We continue our walk for half an hour before he dismisses me by way of concern for my health. I can't help but breathe with relief the moment Nora and I reach the foot of the tower stairs. It was not a relaxing walk at all.

"Enjoy your stroll with Luan?" Sheo asks the moment I enter the room. He nods toward the window when I pull an ignorant look.

Well, it's certainly good to know that the gardens are visible from the tower.

"No, not particularly," I answer bluntly, exhausted of choosing my words. I can't fathom why I should be more nervous around a prince than before a god, but I've never felt so drained after half an hour with anybody.

"Glad to hear it," he answers and returns his attention to the book in his hand.

There's really no reason for me to get worked up, but I'm already strained and his response makes me feel defensive. "If you're bothered by it, you should have joined me," my scathing reply slips out. It would've been a nicer walk if he had. Maybe Prince Luan would have left me alone, or at the very least I could have faded into the background of their discussion.

Gray eyes lift from the page and study me. "I'm not bothered," his voice is still perfectly even and pleasant, "you can speak to whomever you like. I say that I'm glad for your sake, not my own, because any kind of involvement with Luan would only cause trouble for you. Anyway," his gaze returns to his book, "I don't recall being invited."

My mouth opens as I draw a breath to retort, but then I realize he's right. I never did ask him to come with me, I only inquired about directions. "Well…" I fumble, "You were busy… with the bath, which you could've had the decency to offer me," I add despite myself. I didn't think I'd ever speak out like this, I was supposed to be the model wife. I was supposed to hold my tongue at all times, but he makes it so difficult. I had done so well with the prince a moment ago, why can’t I do the same with Sheo?

He sighs. "I did offer. Twice, actually. You never answered."

Once again, he's right. He did ask, and I just assumed he'd inferred the answer. Can't he take any hints?!

I manage to stay quiet this time, and after the silence begins to drag he puts down his book and stands. Apparently he's now taking this conversation seriously, which is probably not a good thing. I stiffen slightly when he comes to stand in front of me, suddenly very aware of our differences in size.

"I don't demand much, Eileen," he says quietly, looking down at me, "but I do ask that you speak your mind with me. I dislike the hinting and guessing games of humans. As you can see, it turns even the most trivial matters into points of discord. So if you have something to say, then say it. I am not society, there is no need to uphold an image with me."

Forget being a model wife, apparently I've got it all backwards.

"Alright," if he wants me to speak, I'll speak, "Why didn't you ask to come with me? Clearly you wanted to, if you spied on me the whole time. Am I to guess your mind, and spill my own?"

I actually have no idea if he was watching the whole time, but I’m determined to demonstrate that I can say whatever I like if that’s his wish. No image is still an image, and I can become whatever kind of woman these men challenge me to be. After all, my entire life has been an act.

As always, he’s unphased. "I have no interest in the castle grounds. My only interest is you, and I can have you just as well indoors."

My lips press together. I won't let him fluster me, not right now. "Why do you hate going outside?" I ask with a note of desperation.

He's still infuriatingly calm as he looks back at me with raised brow. "Is that what you think? I don't hate going outside. What I hate is my brother and his wretched sod."

I blink dumbly at him. There's really nothing to say to that. I know that he and the god of earth have clashed for centuries, but I didn't really consider the fact that we're technically standing in Ion's domain. Sheo has been living on his worst enemy's property for 400 years, so I guess I can understand not wanting to admire the shrubbery. It’s actually kind of a relief that he's not so divine that he can't be petty. Trivial matters indeed.

"Perhaps," I begin in a milder tone, "perhaps sometime we can visit my family's home by the sea."

Only the sound of the fire breaks the silence that falls between us again. His hand reaches to brush a strand of hair behind my ear, yet despite the gentle gesture, for the first time since we started this conversation he doesn’t appear calm. It’s only for a moment, but now I know what jealousy looks like in those eyes. Somehow, I think the words I spoke with best intentions were the worst to have said.

"I appreciate the sentiment,” his hand draws away, “but unfortunately I cannot leave the vicinity of the castle. My spirit is bound here." Before I can say anything else, or ask any questions, he’s changed the subject. “Your bath is ready, by the way. I had Shay prepare it for your return.”