Page 35 of Wrath of the Never Queen

“Oh.” I look around. “Yes, you might be right.”

“I do not have any paints, unfortunately, but you are welcome to any books you find.”

I twist my neck to look at the collection of books lining one of his walls. They are colour-coordinated. A great sorrow wells up as I find myself missing Aunt Meena’s messy library.

“I am sorry,” the prince says quietly. I blink at him. “You must miss your home.”

“Yes.” The sadness leaks into my voice.

The prince catches his lower lip between his teeth. He clears his throat.

“You mentioned a House of Learning,” he prompts gently. “And that you studied magic?”

Grateful for the change of topic, I nod eagerly.

“Yes, and History. Although I was considering Linguistics also.”

“History and Linguistics.” He sounds impressed. “I suppose the two would be closely related.”

I blink at him.

“Are they?”

“Of course.” The prince shrugs. “If you only read one language’s history, you only read one side. And history rarely has one side.”

I give him a side-long look, silently impressed myself.

“Quite right,” I agree. “History should be viewed critically, I believe. Whoever wrote it or said it will have their own biases.”

The prince’s cheek curves in a smile.

“It has been a long time since I had such a lengthy conversation with anyone,” he tells me. His ears tinge pink at the tips. This time, when he reaches forward, he does not falter. He lays a large hand on top of mine. The air thrums around us. “I—”

“Excuse me, Your Highness.”

We are interrupted by a knock at the door. One of the guards steps inside. The prince immediately looks away, and the spell is broken. I am left flustered, though I am unsure why.

“Yes?” the prince addresses the guard.

“The king has summoned you.” The guard glances at me but says nothing else.

“Right,” the prince replies and his posture becomes rigid. “Please excuse me, Miss Shivani.”

I look at him, but he averts his eyes from mine. His expression is even, and the inch of warmth in his disposition dissolves so quickly, I wonder if it had ever been there. As I standto move to the adjoining room, the prince calls after me one last time.

“Please do not wear my mother’s dress again.”

Chapter 15

Ispend a week playing the role of subservient common girl, ferrying myself to and from the prince’s chambers every few nights and enduring degrading comments from whatever guards I pass that evening. I grind my teeth together and avert my eyes. I do my part painfully. And, as the prince said, the king does not call for me again. But it is not enough. I need my freedom back.

At night, I lay awake and wonder. The prince, on the night he caught me outside my window, took us back through a secret tunnel built into the walls. I chew the inside of my cheek, staring at the ceiling. The window in my bedchamber has proven an ineffective way of getting outside these walls. But the tunnel is hidden and seemingly even the guards are unaware of it. If I can use it to leave the castle, I can do what I originally intended—scale the overgrown tree down to Mossgarde.

The tunnel was joined to the portrait outside the prince’s chambers, so I waited until the next time I was due to stay there. I try to keep my nerves contained, but the prince must sense something.

“Miss Shivani,” he says from his armchair, looking up from a book. He always maintains a respectful distance and usually does not speak much. The sound of his voice startles me.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

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