He sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face, smearing some of the golden paint and mussing up his hair.
“The guards like me well enough—they won’t disturb me for the rest of the night. He, on the other hand…” He turned his head, squinting out the still-open window. Wren followed his gaze, seeing the commander’s tower in the distance, the council room glowing brightly in the darkness. “Will check on me once he’s finished.”
He clearly didn’t mean Commander Duncan. “Who?”
“My handler, Galen. He is a relentless social climber, distant cousin, and all-around cock.”
Wren snorted and handed him the flask. He took it gratefully. As he drank, she peered out the window. “If he’s looking for an ass to kiss, Commander Duncan will oblige. The man burns the midnight oil even when he’s alone, but with company to impress and the wine flowing…” She peered down at him, grinning. “You’ve got a couple of hours at least.”
The prince perked up. “Hours, you say. How shall we fill them?” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Don’t even think about it,” Sabina said from under her pillow.
Wren reached out a hand and hauled the prince to his feet. He was surprisingly steady, though shorter than she thought he’d be, standing an inch or so beneath her.
“Come on,” she said, heading for the door. “I’ve got an idea.”
TEN
With Wren in the lead, they darted between the shadows to avoid the guards, climbing up the ramparts, which themselves offered a wide view of the area, but she had something better in mind. Since he’d already proven he had some aptitude for climbing, Wren took the prince to the Breachfort’s highest tower, where they scaled a rickety ladder, climbed over the battlements, and came to stand on the small circular platform next to the flagpoles, the fort’s pennant snapping in the breeze.
The crenellated walls protected them from the worst of the cold but still allowed them to take in the stunning view for miles in all directions and keep an eye on Commander Duncan’s tower.
“Impressive,” Leo said, leaning out between a gap in the stones and taking it all in. “Can you see the Breach from here?”
“No,” Wren said with a sigh. “Sadly, I haven’t seen so much as a wisp of ghostlight since I arrived.”
“No sign of the undead—how very sad indeed,” the prince said teasingly. The cold air seemed to be sobering him up slightly, cooling his flushed cheeks and making his eyes shine. “Does that make you a zealot, then? Doing the illustrious Gravedigger’s good work?”
“What do you know about the Gravedigger?” Wren asked dubiously. Even after the Breach and all the House of Bone had done to make the Dominions safe, most regarded bonesmiths with wary superstition.
Leo looked affronted. “I am a prince of the realm,” he said. “I know everything.”
“Really?” Wren said, grinning.
“The Gravedigger is the first recognized smith in Dominion history,” Leo spouted, rising to the challenge. “There were likely others before him, but no civilization could truly take root here, in the Land of Magic, before they’d found a way to deal with the rising dead.”
“I thought it was the Land of Falling Stars?” she pressed, trying to catch him out. That’s where most people believed magic came from—stars falling from the heavens. No other country had it, as far as Wren knew, and certainly not in the same form. She’d heard of Selnori fortune-tellers and Rhai herb witches, but nothing like what they had in the Dominions.
“It depends who you ask,” Leo said without a hitch. “The Maltecs called it Majland, and the Andolesians called it Estellaisle. The first settlers called it Smithland, back when everyone who lived here had magic, but now, thanks to my ambitious ancestors, it’s called the New Dominions—named for a place that no longer exists.”
The Valorians came from a country called the Northern Dominions, but civil war had since seen it splintered into several smaller nations. Their country was officially called the New Dominions, but most dropped the prefix.
“I’m impressed,” Wren conceded. History had never been her favorite subject, but despite his roguish behavior, Leo was obviously more studious than he let on.
He beamed at her praise, tipping his head in gratitude before peering around once more. “How long have you been here?”
“A little over a month.”
“And how are you enjoying it?”
“I’m not,” Wren said flatly. “I’m bored. Fighting ghosts is all I’m good at, and as previously stated, there aren’t any.”
“Boredom—now, that is something I completely understand.”
Wren turned away from the view to lean her back against the wall, staring at him. “Being a prince not all it’s cracked up to be?”
“Oh, it has its charms,” he conceded. “But while first and second sons have duties and responsibilities in addition to the usual bits—”
“Like money and power?” Wren asked wryly.
“Yes, exactly,” he said without skipping a beat. “A third son, on the other hand, often finds himself without much to do. You have the heir, the spare, me, then the daughter—youngest and favorite, I might add.”
“So you’re the second spare.”
“The spare’s spare.”
Wren laughed. “But you’re the only goldsmith, right? Surely that counts for something?”
“Besides an extra name in my official title that people rarely bother to use? Not really. They won’t let me actually use my ability. Princes don’t work, Wren Graven, not even prince-smiths—surely you know that,” he said with a smirk. “Once I’d finished my education…” He shrugged. “No expectations. No responsibility. Hence the Breachfort visit. It’s one of a dozen stops I’ve made in the past few weeks, tours and inspections all to keep me busy.”
“And behaving?” Wren asked.
“Mostly behaving,” he amended, raising his flask.
“Sounds like an easy life,” Wren said, though she suspected that wasn’t quite true. She knew what it was to have people expect the worst from you, all the ways you could rebel against or play into those perceptions. Wren herself had only ever done half the stupid things she’d done for the attention. She’d wanted to be caught, to be seen, to be talked about and remembered.
She’d always assumed any attention was better than no attention. Better for people to expect the worst than for them to expect nothing at all.
Then again, that behavior had landed her here.
“An easy life, yes,” Leo said, tilting his head back to look up at the stars. “But also an invisible one.”
“Could be worse,” Wren said bracingly. “You could have failed the test you’ve been training for your whole life, been banished from your family, and exiled, rather than just popping by for a visit.”
Leo’s attention dropped back down to her. His expression was serious. “What kind of idiots would exile you?”
His tone was incredulous, as if the very idea of it was beyond comprehension. As if, after knowing her for only a few short hours, he saw her value more than her own blood.