Page 65 of Ties of Dust

Flora woke the morning after the ball with a pounding head and a very confused heart.

The first thing she noticed was the absence of the pressure around her waist. The memory made her cheeks burn. Cassius must have felt it, too. What would he think? It was the first night she’d allowed herself to settle comfortably into her bed without thought for the edge of the tether. She’d noticed the first night that the two beds were barely within the twenty-foot limit, and she’d hoped that by sleeping right on the edge, Cassius wouldn’t notice. Had her actions last night forcedhimto sleep right on the edge? Had he wanted to flirt with the limit of their tether, or had he been frustrated that he couldn’t get comfortable, free from her invisible touch?

Whatever his feelings about it, for her it had felt like falling asleep with his arms around her, strong and comforting.

And all kinds of confusing.

Just like their dance had been. No one had forced himthen. He’d been the one to ask—no, insist—that she dance with him. Not that she’d been against the idea.

It was all overwhelming, and if she had her way, she would hide away and avoid dealing with it by not seeing him all day. Perhaps for several days. But that wasn’t an option, so she needed to stop being a coward.

With a groan, Flora pushed herself out of bed and pulled the curtain open. She was taken aback by the light that streamed in. The morning was well advanced.

It was no wonder she’d overslept. Her head still ached, and her limbs felt sore and heavy from the exertion of the previous evening. Neither of the enchantments she’d done had been too substantial, but the movement she’d used to create them had been minimal, and it had taken significant effort to achieve the effects with such a small amount of magic.

Magic craft was incredibly taxing on the body and mind, and generally it was necessary to use about half the power created by movement to replenish the user’s own energy, so as not to pass out from the effort. It was all a matter of proportions—the more movement, the more power, the greater the potential use. But the more substantial the enchantment, the more energy it cost…exponentially so.

The magic generated by the movement of her skirts in the dance—and later, when she used them to stir up enough Dust to stop the cake stand—was insubstantial. She hadn’t wanted to be conspicuous by making more obviously orchestrated movements, so she’d disregarded good practice and put almost all of the magic toward the frivolous display with the dancing.

It had been a foolish decision, born of a lax mindset that they were in no danger at a ball and she thereforedidn’t need to marshal her resources. But she hadn’t reckoned on falling cake displays and the need for further magical exertion, and she was paying the price now.

She soon learned that she wasn’t the only one paying a price. Once she’d speedily washed and dressed, she made her way out to the corridor, feeling guilty for her tardiness. She assumed he had also slept late, or surely her presence would have been demanded earlier.

But almost as soon as she’d taken up position outside her door, a stately figure issued from the prince’s receiving room. The queen was impeccably dressed, and she moved with her usual dramatic air. But her attendant ladies were notably absent.

One glance at Queen Horatia’s face confirmed that she was irritated. She paused as soon as she caught sight of Flora, her glare leaving Flora in no doubt of her standing in the royal’s eyes. It took all her focus to keep her eyes straight and fight down the flush attempting to flood her face.

Whatever the queen might think, Flora knew that she’d done nothing wrong.

Well, dancing with the prince had maybe been a little bit wrong. But after all, he’d insisted.

The queen stood for an uncomfortably long minute, regarding Flora in the silence of outraged majesty. But she seemed to decide it was beneath her dignity to address her grievances to the guard directly. At last, with a sweep of skirts, she took off down the corridor, leaving Flora to let out a silent breath and release the tension in her shoulders.

It returned a moment later, as one of the prince’s guards addressed her.

“Stories of your magic craft have been understated.”

Flora looked at him cautiously, not committing herselfto a reply. She doubted he was complimenting her protective enchantment at the ball.

“We’re all well aware that you have the prince wrapped around your finger,” the guard went on, an unpleasant glint in his eye. “But I’d like to know what magic you use on the head guard to avoid losing your position with the way you carry on.”

“Getting the prince in trouble is usually a dismissible offense,” agreed the other guard. “Seems you’ve worked your charm on a lot of people to avoid consequences the way you do.”

“Trouble?” Flora repeated, ignoring the slights against herself. “What trouble is the prince in?”

The first guard snorted. “You just saw the queen, what do you think? She’s been in there scolding the prince for two straight hours.”

Flora winced. No wonder her presence hadn’t been missed earlier. Cassius hadn’t been free to go anywhere.

She said nothing, and the guards showed every sign of wanting to needle her until she gave them a response. Thankfully the prince chose that moment to appear, his eyes holding Flora’s for one heartbeat before quickly flitting away. He didn’t greet her, just started down the hall, trailed by the three guards.

What remained of the prince’s morning was spent in the king’s study. Flora, positioned outside, couldn’t hear what passed between them. But she would have bet all her meager belongings that Cassius was trying again to persuade his father to move forward with the alliance. In the short moment when her eyes had met his outside his rooms, she’d read the same tension she felt after the events of the night before.

Their current situation was untenable. Something hadto change, and judging by the length of time he spent in his father’s study, the prince was determined to change it. Meanwhile, Flora stood in the corridor, enduring unpleasant comments from the other guards. By the time the prince emerged for lunch, she was hungry and far more weary than the short morning of duty justified. There was a reason it wasn’t normal for guards to be on duty all day every day without pause. It was difficult to maintain a sharp edge.

The king left his study along with his son, both men seeming frustrated.

Mercifully the meal was a quiet, private affair, with only the prince and his father, along with a senior nobleman whose meeting with the king had been delayed by Cassius’s prolonged interview, and who had been invited to eat with the royal pair instead. The servants were casting more looks Flora’s way than usual, silent questions behind their eyes as they saw the newcomer transformed from ball guest back to guard.

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