Page 43 of Enamored
After the footsteps passed by, I slipped into the tower. The low clouds and steady drizzle of rain added to the darkness of the passageway.
As I wound up the narrow stairway and entered the wing where Maxim’s chamber was located, my heart sped. Had I allowed him enough time to sleep? Though he’d masked his weariness well last eve, I’d seen it in his face and heard it in his voice.
I now regretted showing my anger with Rasmus in my demand that he find a replacement for Maxim. But the Royal Sage hadn’t seemed perturbed in the least and had promptly sent Maxim to his chambers.
I knocked tentatively.
A moment later, Maxim’s door swung open, and I found myself peering past Dag’s hunched head toward the bed. I certainly wasn’t hoping to catch Maxim half-clad, was I?
“Your Highness, Maxim has just left to visit Rasmus.” Dag spoke in a muffled tone, but the message was clear enough.
Stifling my disappointment, I started down the tower stairway. I needed to return to my own chambers and attend to the matters at hand, which included making sure the castle was well provisioned in the event King Canute made it all the way to Vordinberg and laid siege.
But at the same time, I couldn’t abandon Maxim to the wiles of Rasmus again, could I? What if Rasmus punished Maxim in some other cruel fashion?
As I turned a final corner, I glimpsed Maxim entering Rasmus’s chamber. I picked up my pace. Rasmus had always been too hard on Maxim, often pushing him to the limits of his mental endurance. Last eve had been the perfect example of that.
What benefit did Rasmus gain in being so harsh with Maxim? Of course, the strictness had challenged Maxim, likely making him more intelligent than anyone else. But why did Rasmus want Maxim to excel at such a punishing cost?
With my feet already bare in an effort to silence my footsteps, I approached the door without a sound. Lifting a hand to knock, I hesitated. I’d only been in Rasmus’s chambers once, when I was a girl and had gone with Maxim. It had been dark and crowded and the air laden with incense. Even now, the spicy mixture of rare frankincense lingered in the hallway.
“I pray twenty-four hours was sufficient for your study of how to free the sword?” Rasmus’s voice was faint but clear.
Maxim was studying how to free the Sword of the Magi? For what purpose?
“It was more than sufficient.” Maxim’s reply was low and even, the way he’d always spoken to his father, as though he needed to be perfect.
I dropped my hand to my side. Eavesdropping was impolite, but in this case I sensed something malicious was occurring, something that made my skin crawl.
“While we await word back from the chieftains, you will continue to enamor the princess and make her fall in love with you.”
My breath snagged in my chest. Maxim was attempting to make me fall in love with him?
Silence stretched, and I held myself absolutely still even as my mind raced. What was Rasmus insinuating? Why was he instructing Maxim to make me fall in love with him? Was I some kind of challenge for Maxim, so he could learn to excel in the art of winning women?
Hurt welled up within me. After the past couple of days, I’d formed the belief that Maxim and I had cleared up the past hurt and confusion. That we’d renewed our deep friendship. I’d even come to believe something more was developing between us—an attraction that went beyond friendship.
But if what Rasmus was saying was true, then Maxim had set out in a calculated effort to win my heart and was spending time with me to purposefully make me love him.
Before I could rationalize everything, Rasmus spoke again. “Tell me why the missives needed to be sent to the chieftains.”
Again, I silenced my thoughts and waited, needing desperately to understand what Maxim was doing and why.
“If all fifteen chieftains request a change in the law and all seven Royal Sages agree to the change, then the Noble Council must take a vote.”
From the precise nature of his statement, Maxim likely had the entire book of law memorized.
What law exactly did Rasmus hope to change?
I remained frozen in front of the door.
“Based on past votes,” Maxim continued, “the confidence interval for an odds ratio of twenty-two men agreeing contains an interval of .61 and 3.18, which still must be transformed by finding the antilog—”
“When you free the sword, they will agree.” Rasmus’s voice boasted such confidence that I couldn’t hold back a shiver.
Maxim intended to free the sword himself? Had he discovered a way that had nothing to do with Providence? Perhaps there was nothing special about the ancient relic after all.
“Based on past votes of the Noble Council,” Maxim said, “the odds are even riskier—”
