Page 37 of Princess of Air

“Mine are real. I sometimes float in my sleep if I’m not comfortable.”

He nods, unable to respond to such an odd thing. It’s kind of adorable, so I choose not to feel bad about it. “Well, I heard you were going to take your supper in your rooms and wondered if I might join you.”

“That would be lovely.”

“Good.” He comes to sit beside me. “I already asked the maid for it.”

“Confident in my answer, were you?” It’s a good look on him. That confidence comes naturally to him in his role of prince, and I rather like seeing it in personal matters.

“Hopeful.” His smile offers everything warm and sincere.

“I think you always are—hopeful.”

“Is that a good thing?” The question is more loaded than he realizes. I suppose one of us should be hopeful about our relationship, even if his hope ignites my remorse.

“Yes, I think so.”

“How was your excursion into town?” He refills my glass and offers it to me.

“No, thank you. I’ll wait until I have some food before me. You enjoy it.” I wave it off, and he takes a sip of wine before setting it down. “It was interesting. The town is lovely. I enjoyed conversations with a few people without them knowing who I am which was pleasant.”

“That’s certainly a unique opportunity.”

I nod. “It was. Oh, I should inform you—I received an offer of marriage from a boy in town.”

Jamys’ chin pulls back. “Really, now?”

“Yes, he was quite smitten with me. If he were fifteen years older, you really might have had some competition on your hands.”

Jamys’ laugh reminds me of his music—bright but somewhat shy. “I’d have liked to witness that.”

A calm settles over me, and I realize I’d have liked for him to be there. Jamys’ presence is a welcome warmth in the usual tempest of my life—something steady and grounding. This business with Tomas makes it desirable to drop from the billowing winds and tether myself down.

Chapter nineteen

After a lovely evening together, Jamys returns to his rooms, and I go out to my balcony before washing up for bed. Clouds cover any glimpse of stars or moon. In the distance, lightning flashes through them. There’s still some time before they reach us, and the warm smell of rain entices me to drop down to the ground.

Alone feels okay but somewhat dangerous. I should probably stick to Jamys’ side as much as possible. When I am, I’m happy with him, but I need more for it to sink in. I know I can fall in love with Jamys. I should, even. I’m not there yet, though. It feels too fragile, like a seed trying to take root that needs tender loving care. It’s so easy for it to be forgotten under the soil while on the surface, Tomas’ heat keeps snagging my attention.

My eyes remain on the ground as I think of it. All that lies beneath. How does it feel to have the power Rylan possesses? Can he feel deep down into the earth? It seems rather… heavy. But my attention is pulled upward by two people on a balcony—Tomas and Ceanna.

Pressure builds in my ears at the sight. He leans back against the stone railing, and she stands close enough to lean in for a kiss. I can imagine the cunning look in his eyes, the one he’s given me so many times before as he leans so casually. He’s probably acting like he’s disinterested while hissing words that make her want to devour him like he always does to me. Perhaps part of me thought it was an act, his way of being alluring. I didn’t think we were as casual as we claimed. But apparently, I was wrong.

She takes a step closer to him, and without giving it any real thought, I slam a barrier down between them and push him back over the rail.

Her scream as he falls is drowned out only by the thundering of my heart. Of course, I blow the air up under him to slow him down. Not as much as I could, but he should consider the rough landing on his feet to be a gift. He steadies himself, and I march toward him.

“Why did you even come here?” I demand as he says, “Thank you.”

He also calls up, “I’m fine,” to the hysterical Ceanna up above us.

My jaw drops. “Thank you? Did you just thank me? I just pushed you off a tower. It wasn’t as a favor to you!”

“It was a favor all the same.” He brushes himself off. “She doesn’t know how to take a hint.”

“Perhaps”—I shove his shoulder—“your hints”—and again—“are misleading!”

He takes my rage like a stone wall. Unflinching. Unmoved. His eyes only narrow when he says, “You are going to draw the attention of every person in this castle.”

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