Amused, Stellan followed her, but he still felt somewhat wary. He looked over his shoulder, half expecting someone to accost him for keeping the company of the King’s daughter.
“Come on,” she called back. “I’ll show you my favorite place!”
He dutifully obeyed, but remained quiet as she escorted him along a path marked with polished stones. The sounds of the party faded away as they ventured deeper into the garden. Crickets sang a cheery lullaby. Stellan fixed his gaze ahead, not quite sharing their enthusiasm. As they walked, he noticed the princess kept stealing glances at him. After several more minutes of this, he cleared his throat. “Is there something you’d like to ask me, Princess Clarysa?”
She giggled into her hand. “Well, first I’d ask you to call me Clarysa.” She giggled again.
Normally, he would have found such girlish behavior irritating. Meaning, had he ever been around any girls. But she had an infectious quality. Nevertheless, he maintained his guard. “Well, then, Clarysa, what do you have on your mind that begs escaping?”
“Lionel tells me you hail from the Western Wastes.”
“True.”
“And you live near Dungeon Forest!”
“Also true.”
“And…you’re one of those sorcerers.”
Those sorcerers. Stellan paused, wondering where this was leading. “Yes. I am.”
Clarysa’s voice became deeper, bolder. “You practice magick.”
“Yes.”
“Well, is that all you can say?”
“No, it isn’t.” He narrowed his eyes. Old suspicions began to surface, suspicions that warned against discussing such matters with those unacquainted with the Black Arts. “What’s your point?” His voice had an edge, but he didn’t care.
Clarysa, however, seemed oblivious. Suddenly she moved forward and pressed closer to him. To his dismay, he discovered he enjoyed the feeling very much. Stellan glanced down.
“Show me!” she whispered, a hungry look saturating her features. “I’ve never met anyone who can perform magick, at least not the real kind. Is it quite difficult?”
Stellan slowed his pace, but said nothing. What is she driving at?
“I know why you’re hesitant. You think me like the others, but I’m not.”
He walked ahead, picking up speed.
“I won’t tell a soul, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He shot her a dubious look.
Clarysa raised a hand. “I swear on my father’s life I won’t!”
Stellan came to an abrupt decision, followed by an abrupt halt. He glanced about, then swiftly turned and dove into a grove of flowering dogwood trees. The soft rustling of her dress reached his ears. You’re a brave woman, following around a bastard sorcerer like me in the dead of night. Well, here is your reward!
Spinning around, Stellan caught her hand in a flash of movement. Clarysa yelped, but did not back away. Grasping her wrist, he forced her hand palm up. He began to concentrate intensely. With his fingers, he traced a symbol across her palm and muttered an incantation. The red light flickering in his pupils were reflected in hers.
Clarysa gasped. “What is–”
“Quiet!”
A small glowing orb materialized above her palm. Soon, it coalesced into a shimmering, translucent rose. Stellan watched the princess watch the illusion, its soft light enhancing the beauty of her face. After a moment or so it faded away, as soundlessly as it had come.
The grove reverted to its former state of semidarkness. Stellan heard Clarysa’s heavy breathing, and then he realized he was breathing just as hard. Whether it was from the effort it took to perform the spell, or something else, he wasn’t sure.
“Do it again!”
Stellan dropped her hand. “No.” He headed out from the grove.
“Oh, but wait!” Clarysa clutched his arm. “I’m sorry. I was being selfish.” She searched his face. “You’re panting. Are you tired?”
Stellan halted. “Not particularly, no. But magick can be strenuous, yes, in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.” He sensed the impression he had made by the widening of her eyes and the visible shudder that ran through her. For some reason, it gave him a thrill.
A bench lay ahead of them once they reached the path. Clarysa sat down, and patted the spot next to her. Stellan looked around, thoroughly ill at ease. He really should have been trying to arrange his meeting with the King.
“Would you rather go back to the party?” she asked.
Stellan shook his head and sat down. In the middle of a wedding celebration, it was unlikely he’d gain the King’s undivided attention.
Clarysa folded her hands demurely on her lap. But she regarded him with a bold and even gaze. “What’s the most powerful spell you’ve ever done?”
Stellan looked at her sharply, and he was suddenly reminded of how different the two of them were. “Only children, charlatans or the ignorant refer to the Arts as ‘spells,’ and I hardly think my past actions are any of your concern.”
A crestfallen expression passed over her features. “Begging your pardon, sir. I was only curious.”
Frustrated, Stellan glanced away. He debated how long he should stay. Perhaps he should storm back into the castle and demand to see the King immediately. After all, it was for the benefit of Aldebaran. Related thoughts boiled in his brain, but then a light sniffling sound broke his concentration. Stellan gave the princess a sidelong glance.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, unable to keep the hard edge out of his voice.
Clarysa rubbed her nose briefly. “Nothing. What makes you ask such a question?”
“No, I just…” Stellan paused. How could a man and a woman spending time together be so damn confusing?
“You just what?”
He opened his mouth to answer, only to slowly close it, thinking the better of his proposed response. “Oh, forget it.”
An awkward pause followed, suspended by the rhythmic chant of cicadas. A very long pause.
Clarysa cleared her throat. “I’m sorry I was nosy about your spells…or magick… Whatever you prefer. You see, well, it’s so exciting! And I don’t get much of that around here.”
Stellan looked at her in surprise. He made a sweeping gesture.
