The Errant Prince (12 page)

"You get down, and then we go get Lizaben," Tamsen said. He wasn't sure how the impromptu game had started when they'd only been meant to take a turn about the gardens, but it was a welcome distraction.

Illiana cocked her head, considering the deal. She abruptly nodded. "Liza likes hiding by the roses."

"Does she," Tamsen said, putting Illiana down gently. He shook his arms out.

Illiana gave him an exasperated look, like she couldn't believe how stupid he was. "I just said so."

Tamsen bit his lip to keep from laughing. "Let's go look in the roses, then."

She didn't wait, taking off at a tear. Tamsen shook his head, pushing away from the tree and jogging after her. He was never having children. They were entirely too exhausting. He and Illiana broke free of the trees, and Tamsen slowed, waving at Stirling. Illiana ignored her father, continuing on toward the roses without a backwards glance.  Tamsen let her go, taking the out that Stirling represented.

"Having fun?" Stirling asked, smiling. He eyed Tamsen's clothes, and Tamsen knew he was a mess. He'd tripped earlier and gotten acquainted with the dirt of the garden. He'd also managed to run into a tree branch at one point. Tamsen had left his jacket out of harm's way, and his shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, revealing a few small scratches from his run-in with the tree.

"Your children are menaces," Tamsen said, smiling as he said it. He pointed to Kirson, who was sitting quietly on a bench with his nose in a thick book. "Except that one."

Stirling laughed fondly, leaning forward to pick a leaf from Tamsen's hair. "I knew you'd have fun with them."

"Come to join us? I'm tired of losing," Tamsen said. He kept his tone light, though he was pretty certain Stirling had ulterior motives for joining them. It had been three full days since Tamsen had returned. Four if he counted the day he'd arrived, and he was still avoiding Hartley.

"For a little while," Stirling said. "Not long. I've got a meeting at seven bells. When are you meeting with Hartley?"

Tamsen should've seen that coming, but for some reason he'd thought Stirling would lead up to it. "Are you having me followed?"

"No," Stirling said, sighing. He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking like he wanted to shake Tamsen. "Are you being followed?"

"Fairly frequently," Tamsen said. So Hartley was behind it, then. He hadn't had a chance to ask Stirling about it previously. Stirling had skipped out on their lunch the other day, and Tamsen had only crossed paths with him a few times since. "Servants, usually from the Wizard's service."

"When are you meeting with Hartley?" Stirling asked again.

"Soon," Tamsen said, despite wanting to say never. He didn't appreciate being followed or the way Hartley kept showing up at his rooms at odd hours. Tamsen had only been there twice, but Madsin had informed him that Hartley had been by a half-dozen times.

"I'll set something up for tomorrow," Stirling said, his tone brooking no argument. "I need to move forward with the negotiations with Sumira, Tamsen. Stop stalling."

"No meals, and I want it in a meeting room," Tamsen said. He ignored Stirling's sideways glance. He didn't want any excuse to linger, and he definitely wanted to be on neutral ground.

Stirling sighed. "You're not even going to try, are you?"

"I said I'd listen to what he had to say," Tamsen said, refusing to feel guilty. He'd promised nothing more than that, and he wasn't going to let Stirling guilt him into something he didn't want. "We broke it off, Stirling. Before I left. He may not believe I meant it, the two of you may have your pet theory that I never meant breaking it off or leaving or abdicating, but I meant it then, and I mean it now. I'll hear him out because you asked, but I doubt anything he has to say will change my mind."

"How long were you seeing each other?" Stirling asked. He moved, heading toward a bench a few dozen yards from the one where Kirson was still reading. Tamsen trailed after, wishing he could get out of the conversation.

"Eight months, give or take," Tamsen said. "I'm not going to claim I'm any more mature now, but I
was
only twenty."

"He made it seem longer," Stirling said, sitting down. He frowned at Tamsen, looking pensive. "And much more serious."

"Well, he's got a vested interested in that, doesn't he? Husband to a prince, even a hermit prince, gives him more power," Tamsen said bitterly, recalling the fight again.

"And you have a vested interest in downplaying it," Stirling said, but he said it gently, no sting in the words.

"I do," Tamsen acknowledged. He sat down next to Stirling, lapsing into thought. He didn't want to discuss it, but keeping quiet wasn't helping any. Stirling only had Hartley's side of it; it was little wonder Stirling had so many misconceptions about what had happened.

"I can join you—"

"No, oh god no," Tamsen said, looking at Stirling with horror. "You are not going to sit in while my ex tries to apologize for a seven-year-old fight. I literally cannot think of a way to make that meeting worse."

Stirling laughed because he was horrible. Tamsen scowled at him, scanning the garden. He caught a glimpse of Illiana's red curls amongst the greenery near the roses, but the other kids were better hidden.

"It was only eight months," Tamsen said again. "I thought you wouldn't approve and would try to make me end it."

"I may have," Stirling said, giving Tamsen a sideways smile. "You were good at bad decisions."

"I probably still am," Tamsen muttered. Stirling stayed quiet, and Tamsen appreciated that. He didn't look at Stirling, already uncomfortable sharing, but Stirling needed to know more than what Hartley was telling him. "I was infatuated, I'll admit that. If you'd asked me then, I would even have said I was in love. I was starting to figure out that I made a lousy prince," Tamsen said, which made Stirling shift. "Shut up, you know it's true. I had the abdication papers drawn up quietly, and I was going to talk to you about it when I had a chance. Then Hartley proposed.

"I said no. I didn't want the fairy tale life. No title, no prestigious marriage, and I think I realized it was a bad idea. Hartley didn't take it well, particularly when I told him I planned to abdicate. One of the last things he told me was that I shouldn't because that was the only reason anyone would marry me. So you'll have to forgive my skepticism about Hartley's intentions."

Stirling sighed, sounding weary. Perhaps Tamsen should have kept it to himself, but he was tired of hearing Stirling talk as though Hartley had been grievously wounded and not at all part of the problem. "Ask him if he'd marry you if you abdicated. I'll draw up the papers again since you're sure—" Stirling paused, giving Tamsen a questioning look.

"I am," Tamsen said. He wouldn't marry Hartley no matter the answer to that question, but he did want to see Hartley's face when Tamsen asked him that.

"See if his stance changes when you tell him you're still abdicating, marriage or no," Stirling said.

"I'm still going to say no," Tamsen said, hoping Stirling understood that.

"Ask anyway," Stirling said. He sounded grim, and Tamsen wondered again just what Hartley had been telling Stirling. "Come see me when you're done."

"All right," Tamsen said, wishing it was over with already. Still, he was nearly there. He just had to meet with Hartley and sign the papers abdicating his title. Then he could go home whenever he wanted, though he certainly wouldn't be leaving immediately. Not when he had six nieces and nephews to get to know. And Myron.

"Tellia said you were quite friendly with Guardsman Vere the other day," Stirling said. He was fishing—and being obvious about it. Tamsen scowled at him.

"Who's Tellia? I thought you said you weren't spying on me."

"Don't get paranoid at me. Tellia is one of my secretaries," Stirling said. He wasn't deterred, unfortunately. "Another reason you're saying no to Hartley?"

"I don't need another reason," Tamsen said, dodging the question. "And his name isn't Vere. Speaking of which, why didn't you step in? His magic is top tier. He's a waste in the King's Guard."

"Regardless of what you may think, Tamsen, I don't actually force people to do things. He chose the Guard—"

"His parents blocked him from the Tower," Tamsen said bluntly. How did Stirling not know that? "Of course he chose the Guard over nothing."

"I was under the impression he chose that path voluntarily," Stirling said, narrowing his eyes at Tamsen. "Anything else you'd like to share?"

Tamsen rolled his eyes, leaning back against the bench. It wasn't his fault Stirling had been unaware—though that was infinitely better than Stirling condoning the matter. The bells in the wizards' wing tolled the hour, seven short bursts of chimes.

"And now I'm late," Stirling said, climbing to his feet with a sigh. "Don't let the ruffians wear you out, and let me know if you change your mind about me being there when you meet with Hartley."

"I won't change my mind," Tamsen said. He waved Stirling off, his stomach flipping uneasily at the idea of finally sitting down with Hartley. He could get it over with, though, and then the only thing he needed to worry about was screwing up with Myron in some way.

He hadn't seen Myron in three days, but thinking of him still made Tamsen want to smile. He'd been disappointed to get Myron's note that his sister was kidnapping him for a few days, but he couldn't begrudge Myron the chance to see his family. He was doing the same with his family, after all. He'd see Myron in a day or two, and that was good enough, particularly since he wasn't going anywhere until Myron could shift to see him. Smiling, Tamsen held onto that thought as he climbed to his feet to resume the game with his nieces and nephews.

*~*~*

Tamsen was awake and pacing when the knock sounded on the door to his rooms. He moved to answer it, regretting sending Madsin off to find breakfast. He could ignore it, but it could be Stirling or Myron, and Tamsen didn't want to miss either of them. Hopefully the meeting with Hartley that afternoon would keep Hartley from darkening his doorstep.

Opening the door a crack, Tamsen peered into the hallway. He was relieved to find it was Myron, and he opened the door all the way, letting Myron inside. Myron raised his eyebrows as he stepped past Tamsen, smelling of something sweet and fruity.

"Good morning," Myron said. He stayed close to Tamsen, closer than propriety dictated, but Tamsen wasn't going to object.

"Morning," Tamsen said. He shut the door, nervous and anxious, and it was entirely because of his pending meeting with Hartley and nothing to do with Myron. It wasn't as though this were the first time Myron had been in his rooms, nor the first time Myron had infringed on his personal space. "Have you eaten? Or shall we get right to the lesson?"

"I have," Myron said. He eyed Tamsen, and Tamsen belatedly noticed that Myron's hair had been trimmed so it no longer fell in his eyes. "Are you all right? You seem…"

"Nervous," Tamsen said. He was inflicting himself on Myron, so Myron should get fair warning. "I'm meeting with Hartley this afternoon. You may not want to put up with me this morning."

"We can cancel if that's what you want, but I think I can handle you." Myron grinned, and Tamsen had missed the utterly inappropriate way Myron talked to him.

"I'd like the distraction," Tamsen said. "But you have been warned."

"I can be plenty distracting," Myron promised. He stepped closer to Tamsen, tilting a slow, hot smile up at him. Then he stepped
past
Tamsen, opening the door. "Shall we?"

Tamsen made a face at him, because that was playing dirty, and Myron scrunched his face up in return. Tamsen followed Myron from the room, already feeling calmer and more settled. His stomach still flipped uneasily whenever he thought about the pending meeting—eighth bell in the Almeria parlor—but it was easy to focus on Myron instead of what he'd say to Hartley.

Myron led the way swiftly through the halls, and Tamsen could barely keep pace with him. He couldn't glower the people staring at him into looking away, either, but the quick pace meant he couldn't linger on it.

By chance, they ended up in the same practice room as before. Tamsen shut the door behind them, scanning the walkways above for any spies. The walls were clear, however, and Tamsen was grateful for that. He couldn't guarantee he wouldn't do something stupid. He didn't like being followed and having his privacy so wantonly disregarded.

"Can you show me the spell again?" Myron asked. "Or does that count as cheating?"

"No, I think that falls under instruction," Tamsen said, recalling their wager. Myron was up to four attempts, so there was every chance they'd know if he beat Tamsen's record by the end of this session.

They settled near the bookcase of props again, and Myron sat down next him, again eschewing anything resembling proper personal space. He grinned at Tamsen, as though challenging him to say something. Tamsen didn't; he definitely preferred Myron's nearness than ceding to the dictates of manners.

"Ready?" Tamsen asked. He singled out a block of scrap wood from the top shelf of the bookcase.

"Always," Myron replied, dropping his voice an octave. Tamsen rolled his eyes, flushing. He was getting to be too easy to fluster, if that one word was enough to make his cheeks heat.

Tamsen shifted the block to the open space in front of them, going through each step of the spell slowly. Once the shift was complete, he set up a barrier spell to block the effects of any splintering. "Do you need to see it again?"

"No, I think I'm good," Myron said. He studied the block briefly and then started his shift. He pulled too hard during the disintegration, splintering the block into shards that scattered across the yard.

Tamsen grinned but quickly wiped the expression from his face when Myron glanced at him. "Five."

"Yeah, yeah," Myron grumbled, but he was smiling.

Tamsen shifted another piece of scrap over to them, aware of the way Myron was scrutinizing every bit of the spell. Myron started the shift again and got it all the way to the point of transferring the scrap to the power lines before he lost the spell. The scrap splintered spectacularly, some of it flying up and over Tamsen's barrier to rain down on them gently.