Page 49 of The Nymph Prince
***
“What are they saying?” I pressed my ear to the wall, plugging the other with my finger, and tried to hear.
I felt like a child who was spying on the guards all over again. As a boy, I’d snuck into their quarters and listened to their conversations countless times. Women were prone to gossip, but in my experience, it was the men who gossiped most.
“I know what they’re saying!” Troy exclaimed in a loud whisper. “They’re saying… mind your own business, Lor.”
I snarled my lip at him, which he countered by sticking out his tongue.
“Always so nosey.” Troy shoved my shoulder. I was sitting on a pillow in the middle of the hall with my ear still against the wall. “Stop eavesdropping and come train with me.”
“I’ve already trained this day.”
“Then let’s go for a walk.”
I sighed and regarded him. I was doomed when he jutted out his bottom lip and made his violet eyes pitiful by widening them.
“Fine.”
Malik stood against the opposite wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest, and smirked at the pair of us. Reif was a foot down from him with his eyes fixated on the closed door.
When I got to my feet, I pulled Troy up with me, giving him a narrow-eyed look. He was a pain in my backside, but I loved him.
“Night is upon us, my prince,” Malik said. “I advise you to keep to the main path and not wander the outskirts of the kingdom.”
“Ah, Mal, won’t you be able to protect us?” Troy bounced over to Malik and straightened the leather strap on the guard’s shoulder that kept his armor tied together.
Malik’s orange eyes followed Troy’s movements, and I didn’t have to read minds in order to gather that the guard was fond of my friend.
“My life, as well as my sword, belongs to the prince. I will give my life to protect his.” Tenderness swam in his eyes as he looked at Troy. “And yours.”
Troy blushed and averted his gaze to his hands.
Perhaps I was assuming wrong about Malik’s affections, but there was a definite connection between them. Whether it was romantic or not was yet to be determined.
Before I walked down the corridor, I cast a look toward the closed door where Eva and Alek spoke in private. Eva was a child of magic, and so was Alek.
I remembered how I’d carried Alek through the water after he’d been injured, my heart cracking in my chest as his slowed in its beating. He’d healed himself, even while unconscious. That type of power was rare indeed. Not even Eva could perform such a task.
When I’d been shot by the pirates and had been bleeding out on the sand, Alek had healed me, too. Only a faint pink line showed on my skin when the wound should’ve still been healing.
My mage was powerful.
If being the son of a god had taught me anything it was that men craved power and often sought out those who possessed it.
Was someone after Alek? Is that what Eva had come to say?
“Do you think Gretchen will fire up the forge and make me a tartlet?” Troy asked as we passed the entrance to the palace kitchen. “I need something sweet.”
“To help balance your bitter soul, dear friend?”
Troy rolled his eyes. “No, it’s so I may endure yours.”
Leave it to Troy to help lift my spirits. Answers would be revealed with time. For now? A handful of sweet tarts worked a magic of their own.
12
Alek
