His laugh was small and breathless, attention never straying from the page. “I don’t have any idea what it says.”
Mireille could just make out the corner of Kin’s mouth lifting where the woman stood facing the balcony. She had done what they had asked, fulfilled the wishes of the prince’s guests. But she had not broken any trust; the fae secrets were just as far away as they had been.
Except that Thomas was no amateur historian. He excelled at breaking codes. Beside her, he said, “Another. Please. Same time period.”
Kin turned, expression wary at the change in his tone, but Mireille only smiled and said, “See? He loves this stuff.”
Late in the afternoon, after Thomas had exhausted Kin and devoured more texts than Mireille could count, Noal appeared to retrieve the pair. Mireille made a point to grouse about their lack of success.
“Was there something in particular you were searching for?” he asked.
Absently, she ran a thumb over a finely carved vine that edged the table. Every detail of the palace felt intentional, as if nothing had been left out. “Actually, several things. But I was wondering most of all about fae customs. The significance of certain flowers, for instance.” The flowers were far less a concern than the stipulations of fae bargaining and the right of rule, but the blossoms seemed her most likely chance to gain Noal’s trust, especially given the look he had shared with the prince their first night. When he did not respond, she tapped a fingernail against a small glass urn atop the table. “Can’t find anything of the sort, despite all of these references.”
Noal’s expression remained level. “You wouldn’t. They’re in our hearts, practiced within our rituals. Our traditions are not bolted to the wall with a finely engraved plaque or listed on a register for all to see.”
A small, choked sound came from the corner, where Thomas attempted to cover his laugh with a cough, likely at the man’s reference to her earlier comment.
“Yes,” Mireille said. “I can see how listing them out might be a problem. I wonder, then, how one might find the answer to those questions instead.”
Noal did not respond.
“I suspect I will not find them with the prince.”
Noal’s attention seemed to sharpen on her. “Indeed, if one were to discover insight at all it would be with the heart of Rivenwilde. Your dinner with the prince approaches. Shall we return you to your rooms so that you may prepare?”
She leaned nearer, dropping her voice. “Truly? You’ve nothing to offer but obscure comments?”
“Not in the way of kingdom secrets, no.”
Mireille narrowed her gaze. “Because you cannot reveal more or because you will not?”
“Precisely.”
“I see,” she said. “It appears we are left entirely up to our own devices.”
* * *
Because of the attack,Alder had changed the rules. Their dinner would be private. He was to meet Mireille at her suite, then walk with her to a secluded dining hall.
Dressed for the occasion in a gown that was far more elegant than the last—and with a much lower neckline, despite the prince’s warning to Noal—Mireille stood in the center of her sitting room, watching as the door came open, well past when she was to expect the prince.
It was not the prince who entered, but Noal, dressed in his dark suit and perfectly tied cravat. “The prince has been detained with court business. Perhaps this evening’s dinner would be better taken in your rooms. Shall I have it brought up straight away and send your regrets?”
She gave the man a patient smile. “I will wait for him.”
Noal’s expression did not waver. “It may be quite some time.”
“I trust that the prince will keep his word. He will show eventually, and that is all that matters. I have nothing but time, after all.”And nowhere near enough of it.
“Of course.” Noal’s hands unclasped to fall to his sides. “I will return when he is?—”
“I will wait for him outside of—wherever he is.”
That earned her a small twitch at the corner of his lips. “As you wish.”
He led her to a gallery that looked out over the kingdom, a wide window before low stone steps that felt very quiet and still. “No one will bother you here. This is a private gallery reserved for His Highness.”
Mireille drew her eyes from a view of expansive estates and lush forests. “You do not have to wait with me. I’m certain you’ve other matters to attend.”
