All the while, knowledge pulsed inside me like a poisoned heartbeat.
Amryssa was Zephyrine’s. And the goddess wanted her back.
By afternoon, my head throbbed, to say nothing of my heart. Up in the cupola, Amryssa read a book while I sweated over the mending. Ky had busied himself in the yard below, lashing together a frame for some leggy tomato plants.
All the energy he’d accumulated during our weeks-long search of the library seemed to be pouring from him at once. Once he finished with the tomatoes, he weeded the entire vegetable garden, then jogged over to the wood-chopping stump. The thing saw frequent use, given how much fuel the hot water boilers consumed, and we also had an unending supply of diseased purple wood to dispose of. Not to mention an axe-wielding prince who apparently had more drive than he knew what to do with.
An exquisitely tempting prince, at that.
I wrenched my gaze away from all those sweat-slicked muscles. Four more days. Then the annulment certificate would arrive, and Ky would cease to be my problem. He wouldn’t be anyone’s problem but his own.
At dinner, Amryssa listlessly pushed bits of trout around her plate. Olivian chewed in silence. Ky sat opposite me, his so-called attendants stationed behind him. Vick glared at the back of Ky’s head as if he could drill a hole into it.
A bite of fish scraped down my throat, but dinner didn’t interest me any more than it did Amryssa. I forked a green bean and dropped it again. What the hell was I going to tell her? What if she refused to go to Hightower, once she knew?
The kitchen door opened.
Miss Quist bustled in, carrying a tray of chipped ramekins filled with thin gray pudding. My eyes shot to Lunk, who straightened.
Goddess, he must be pushing seven feet when he did that. He puffed out his barrel-like chest, making the day’s first smile itch to life on my lips. No way could he hold his breath like that for long, but it’d be fun to watch him try.
Miss Quist distributed the puddings. Rosy color dusted her cheeks. Blonde ringlets framed her face like frizzy wisps of sunshine.
“Dorothea,” Ky said, and I jolted. Since when was he on a first-name basis with our cook? “How lovely to see you.”
Miss Quist’s perennial color flamed higher. “Your Highness.”
“Just Ky,” he said good-naturedly. “How many times do I have to I tell you?”
“At least once more.” She placed a double serving of pudding in front of Amryssa. Lunk tracked her every movement, stars in his eyes.
“You know, Dorothea, I’ve been thinking...” Ky rested his chin on his hand. “It’s been ages since I’ve had a good Snogberry Fizz.”
My brows snapped together. A...what?
“Do you make those here in Oceansgate?”
Miss Quist paused while setting down Olivian’s pudding. “I’ve never heard of such a thing, Your Highness. I’m sorry.”
I slitted my eyes at him and mouthed,What’re you doing?Because I was about a hundred and eighty percent certain Snogberry Fizzes didn’t exist.
Ky winked and blew me an airy kiss. I glanced around, but no one had noticed except Vick, who weighed our exchange with narrow-eyed calculation.
I narrowed my eyes right back, wondering what he’d look like with green beans all over his jerkin. Maybe mashed into that orange hair, too. What was his problem?
“We make them all the time, where I’m from,” Ky was saying. “I’d love to take up the habit again. Maybe you could bring Lunk here back to the kitchen? Have him show you how they’re made?”
Lunk’s besotted expression shifted to one of such transparent alarm that I fought the urge to throw my fork. What was Ky doing? And did he have to be soobviousabout it?
But Miss Quist seemed delighted by the idea of the giant remedying her culinary deficiencies. She pressed a hand to herbosom. “Oh, I’m always up for learning something new. Come on, Henry, why don’t you carry this tray for me? Zephyrine knows you’re strong enough to take all the dishes at once.” She bustled around the table, clearing our plates.
I gaped. Henry? Was that Lunk’s real name? How did she even know that?
Goddess, I needed to pay more attention.
Lunk—Henry?—came dutifully forward, his face flaming, whether because of the impending need to invent a Snogberry Fizz or because Miss Quist had complimented his brawn, I couldn’t say. But he stoically bore the loaded tray to the kitchen. The door swung shut behind them, leaving us to our sallow puddings.
Well, then. With the excitement over, I stuck my spoon into my ramekin and swirled. Ky reclined in his chair, those forget-me-not eyes brimming with satisfaction.
