They reached the castle of Astya in no time. Alex dismounted in the courtyard and helped William down. The wound on his forearm burned a little, but it wasn't anything serious.

A few servants peeked out from the main gate, confused about why they were there. The Lord Castellan, Lord Lynden, hurried out of the main building, his ocher doublet stretched over his prominent belly.

"Your Highness! By the spirits, what—" He fell silent as his eyes darted to the blood staining Alex's sleeve, his face paling. "Are you hurt?"

"It's nothing serious. Lock the gate, post guards on the battlements, and send word to the nearest garrison by pigeon."

"What happened?"

"We were ambushed." And he wasn't at all sure they'd been simple bandits.

He handed the two horses over to the stable boy, grabbed his saddlebags, and told William to follow.

They entered the castle and climbed one of the old watchtowers—the one facing the forest where the ambush had occurred. There was a small study there where they could talk undisturbed.

Alex pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside.

A thin veil of dust danced in the warm light of late afternoon, but the rosewood desk and the wall-to-wall bookshelves had been recently polished. The air still smelled faintly of beeswax.

He shut the door behind them and gestured for William to sit in one of the two velvet armchairs.

The mage hesitated, then dropped onto the cushion. "Are you planning to interrogate me?"

Alex blinked at him in surprise. "Why would I?"

"Because I would, if I were you."

"Well, you're not me." Alex sat down before him and rubbed his forehead. "Are you all right?"

William frowned. "You're the one who got hurt, not me."

"It's just a scratch. And I doubt you're used to ambushes."

"Are you?"

"Unfortunately," Alex muttered.

His gaze fell to the missing finger hidden beneath the leather glove, and a sharp pain pricked his chest. He shoved the memories aside.

"This trip is madness. My father must have lost his mind, sending me off without an escort."

"I don't think he imagined an ambush."

"Actually, he suspected something. But maybe he believed I could handle it." Alex looked away. "The thing is… I'm not sure I can."

"We're both alive. I'd say you handled it quite well."

"Maybe. I need to send a message to the palace and request Sven and the rest of my guard. We can't go back without an escort—it's too risky."

Alex glanced at William again. He was still pale, but his breathing was steady, and his hands weren't trembling. The icy look he gave him was the one Alex was used to.

"You're not hurt, are you?"

"No. If I were, you'd notice."

"Good."

"Do you suspect me?"

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Should I?"

"No, but I wouldn't blame you if you did." William crossed his legs. "You don't know me, and we're not exactly fond of each other. The timing of this attack is… convenient."

"You almost got an arrow between the eyes. Either you're completely insane, or you're innocent."

"And what makes you so sure I'm not insane?"

"My father's and Sven's judgment. They both say you're reliable, and I trust them. Besides, the current Court Mage wouldn't have endorsed a madman."

William pressed his lips together. "So you don't trust me."

"I don't know yet." Alex looked down. "I don't know you, and I can't figure you out. You're… complicated and unreadable, and your tongue is sharper than a blade. I can't tell if you enjoy pissing people off or if you simply don't know how to behave. And the way you look at me is irritating."

The mage frowned, clearly displeased. Alex ignored him.

"But you're honest—maybe too much. You stayed by my side even after I ordered you to run, saving my life. Why?"

"You're my prince; I couldn't leave you behind. Besides, you saved me." William looked away. "I don't like being indebted to powerful men."

Those words stung Alex. "Do you really think I'd use a blood debt to blackmail you? That I'd ever hurt you?"

"I don't know. I…" He bit his lip, and for the first time, he looked genuinely uncomfortable. "I've never gotten along well with nobles."

"That's why you hate me? Because I'm a prince?"

William didn't answer, and Alex dug his nails on the armchair.

"You know," he murmured, "I'm starting to think that maybe being bound to you won't be so bad after all."

"It will be. For you. Trust me, you don't want to be bound to me."

Alex frowned and looked back at him. "What are you talking about?"

For a long moment, silence stretched between them. Then William sighed.

"Do you remember what I told you a few days ago?"

The mage had told him a lot of things, and Alex usually remembered about half. Damn his terrible memory—was it really that hard to pay attention when people talked to him?

He scratched the back of his neck, a little embarrassed. "Let's just say I wasn't really listening."

William frowned—the same way his father did when scolding him. "Sometimes I can't tell if you're stupid or brilliant."

"Are you going to tell me what you said or not?"

The mage looked away and scratched his forearm. Was he nervous? "I told you I knew how to prevent the Crown's Pact—and I do. It concerns my condition. I have hemophilia."

"Is that a perversion?"

William shot him a look so cold that Alex felt a chill run down his spine. "It's the illness I suffer from. Hemophilia."

"Oh… Is it contagious?"

"No. But it might be the reason you need to dismiss me."

Alex froze, unable to say a word. That was what he wanted, right? So why did the thought of sending him away make his chest tighten?