Page 23 of Quest

His head jerked up in offense. “If you think I use such a shallow measurement to determine the worth of my comrades, then I have been a poor leader.”

Guilt prickled. Once again I’d used my unfounded prejudice as a defense to keep the prince at a distance, a poor show of gratitude for his consideration for my welfare. I lowered my gaze in remorse. “I’m sorry, I don’t truly think that.”

His shoulders relaxed and he turned slightly, his attention captured by the vivid vision of blossoming pink before us. Awe seized his breath as he gaped at the sakura tree, momentarily speechless. “What is this place?” Reverence filled his bulging gaze as he took in the scene.

“A place where the temple imparts wisdom to the guardians who come seeking it. I came not only for guidance, but because its blossoms can be used in a variety of recipes, especially those pertaining to knowledge.” I caught one of the sakura petals waltzing with the breeze.

“It appears the forgotten temple is home to many valuable ingredients.”

Caught up in the majestic scene, I had entirely forgotten my original purpose, but his comment reminded me that my wandering had left him alone, giving him ample opportunity to track down the silverleaf. Had that search been what had led him to find me?

I narrowed my eyes. “Did you really come after me because you were worried, or did we happen to encounter one another after you retrieved?—”

My sense finally caught up and I hastily bit back the rest of my condemnation, but by the agonizingly long silence that followed it was too late. He frowned as he searched my expression. “By your reaction, I’m led to wonder if you purposefully informed me of an element of the recipe I’m not supposed to obtain. Was it some sort of test?”

My consuming panic robbed me of my voice, but the delay was only momentary before the defensiveness that always seemed to be present in our interactions took over. “Are you truly naive enough to think I would blindly trust my family’s secrets to you so easily?”

He frowned. “It wasn’t a request.”

I snorted. “Your title does not automatically qualify you to the privilege of my trust.”

His eyes narrowed. “You agreed to honor the duties expected of you when you embarked on this mission. You would really defy an order from your prince?”

“My first duty is to my family. My loyalty cannot be swayed by such a triviality as your prestigious title.” I barely checked the impulse to roll my eyes at his audacity; I didn’t want to push my disrespect further than necessary—more for my family’s honor than for the prince’s sake.

“A…triviality?” For a moment he seemed lost for words as his ego processed my insult, but then to my surprise a slow grin curved his lips. “I never considered I might have allowed my status to get to my head, but you’ve helped me realize that I’ve grown conceited. Despite my show of pride, you’re right to protect what is dear to you. Forgive me.” He offered a bow in contrition.

Rather than his apology dispelling my worries, the ease in which he gave it only left me more wary. Yet before I could make another unwise statement, the lantern’s voice sounded in my mind.

“It must be exhausting fearing every action has an ulterior motive. Have you ever considered that rather than trying to deceive you, His Highness simply isn’t as confrontational as you?” Lumis’s tone was far too knowing for my liking; despite its help thus far, I almost regretted obtaining an enchanted lantern with the uncanny ability to expose the hidden parts of myself I didn’t want to examine.

I ignored my lantern’s advice and subtly gave Prince Darcel’s body a quick perusal—there were several areas folded into the fabric or hidden pockets where he could tuck the silverleaf should he have acquired it.

Unfortunately my subtle perusal didn’t go unnoticed. With a sigh Prince Darcel extended his arms. “You can search me if you don’t believe me.”

“Absolutely not.” I tucked my hands behind my back to resist the frustratingly strong impulse to take him up on his offer to get closer.

“Perhaps resisting the temptation will be easier to endure with the reminder that you made up the fact that the silverleaf exists in the temple in the first place,” Lumis said.

I felt both grateful for my lantern’s sense when my own had become lost in the heat of the moment, and begrudging that Lumis had even felt it necessary to remind me of that annoying fact. “Searching you is unnecessary.” I wasn’t entirely certain who my words were trying to assure—Lumis, the prince…or myself.

Prince Darcel cocked a skeptical brow, an annoying smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “So you believe me that I haven’t gone behind your back and stolen it?”

I hesitated only a moment more before finally relinquishing my stubborn fight. “I suppose you haven’t.”

Amusement lit his dark eyes as he eyed my dejection. “Don’t sound too excited.”

I forced a strained smile that caused him to laugh—the sound rich and warm as it drifted through the blossom breeze, waltzing with each petal in a joyous, mystical dance. The unexpected reaction was second only to the alarming sensation it caused me to feel, leaving me missing it when his mirth faded.

“It appears I have been negligent in considering your duties from your perspective,” he said. “But I admittedly find myself curious what you were hoping to achieve by concocting such a test.” His anger at my trick seemed to have faded, leaving him only amused and intrigued.

I hesitated, wondering if it was wise to confess the extent of my initial distrust, but his openness and the lingering warmth left behind by his earlier laughter chiseled away at the rigid wall I’d erected between us. “I simply needed to ensure your motives are as altruistic as you claim or if they’re instead motivated by greed.”

He staggered back, as if I’d slapped him. “Have I ever given any indication I’m unworthy of your trust, or are you simply determined to make me an enemy? I was teasing you before, but you sound as if you were truly hoping I would fail your little test.”

How aggravating that His Highness seemed to share Lumis’s annoying insight. “Perhaps a little,” I admitted.

Perplexity lined his brow. “Why?”

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