“Driscoll,” the person shouted back, a man, though his voice wasn’t as deep as this one’s was. “From the earth court.”
My brows furrowed together. From the maps Gran had shown me, I knew the earth court was a long way from here.
“And I’m Leoni,” a female voice shouted. “From the water court.”
Also a long way from here.
I bit the inside of my cheek, not even knowing if they’d be honest with their answers.
“Trust no one.”
Gran might not have been here, but it seemed her voice would stay with me always.
“Uh,” Driscoll said, “is there a strong, ridiculously handsome man up there with you? Perfect auburn curls that just effortlessly shine? A symmetrical face that defies reality? Blue eyes that pierce your soul? Skin golden like?—”
“I think she gets it,” the other person—Leoni—said.
“I’m trying to be as specific as possible,” I thought I heard him say, though it was hard with the wind.
“Yes, he’s up here,” I shouted, “and I’ll warn you, I’ve knocked him unconscious and...I’m holding a knife to his throat.”
Silence.
“You can’t kill him,” Leoni said, voice frantic.
“I don’t see why not,” I yelled back, the threat tasting sticky and sour in my throat.
Whispers erupted between the two, growing louder and more tense, until Driscoll finally burst out, “He’s the prince—of Apolis, that is. We’re trusting you don’t want to kill the prince and bring war down upon you?”
I stilled, then sank against the stone wall, staring at the man. The prince. Of the water court. Oh, spirits below. This was bad. I’d knocked a prince, an actual prince, unconscious.
I chewed on a nail. Unless they weren’t telling the truth. But if they were...
Gran had never spoken highly of the rulers of the courts. She’d believed they were cowards, that they didn’t have the strength or courage to face threats, so they ignored them, shoved them away like old boots in a wardrobe. And because of this, she viewed them as weak and unworthy to rule. Whenever she’d mentioned them, it was with a hatred that ran deep in her soul. As I got older, I realized her hatred pricked the surface of something deeper—it was more than not agreeing with the way these rulers led their courts. Something else had happened, something personal. But I could never get Gran to open up about it, about what these rulers had done to her that made her so angry with them.
I knew of the rift between the shadow court and the other courts of Arathia. The other courts hadn’t agreed with the way the shadow elementals had used their magic. Didn’t like when they used their powers to rip away others’ shadows. The rift had been so deep, it had led to a war. I’d always assumed that war was what ultimately made Gran dislike the rulers, though I didn’t know the specifics of what had happened.
I picked at my nails, turning my attention from the past back to the present. Why would a prince of the water court come here, to the sky court—to my tower? What could he want with me?
“Hello?” Leoni called. “Did you hear us?”
“Please don’t kill him,” Driscoll said, a whine to his voice. “We’ll be in a lot of trouble if he gets killed—and we’ll also miss him. Even if he doesn’t seem to like us very much.” I heard a grunt like he’d been elbowed or hit. “Probably too much information,” he shouted.
I didn’t know what to make of these people.
The man stirred on the ground, groaning and stretching out. I shot to my feet and grabbed a jagged piece of the flowerpot, ready to slice him open if he tried anything.
His eyes blinked, heavy, and he slowly sat up. “Well, that’s a first.” He rubbed his head where I’d hit him, drawing his hand away, fingertips coated in crimson.
“A first for what?” I asked hesitantly, raising the jagged piece threateningly.
He heaved a sigh. “The first time a woman hit me in response to me trying to kiss her.”
My face flushed. “I don’t even know you.”
A wolfish grin spread across his face. “Well, you could get to know me.”
I shot him a look.
