This sobered him. The smile, like a brief glimpse of the sun in rainy season, disappeared. “What kind of questions?”

She was almost relieved not to see his smile anymore. “He wanted to know what I thought of the relationship between the British Empire and lands under her influence abroad.”

“Ah.” He relaxed visibly. “Kashkari would want to know your opinions.”

“Why?”

The kettle sang. He rose, lifted it off its hook, poured boiling water into a teapot, and swished the teapot. “Kashkari has ambitions. He does not state it, but he wants to free India from British rule in his lifetime. Wintervale is sympathetic. I am known to be apolitical, so he is secure in the knowledge that at least I am not antagonistic toward his goals. But he is less sure about you.”

“Wouldn’t he have conjured Fairfax as someone more sympathetic to his views, the way Wintervale believes I’d help him win cricket games?”

He discarded the water from the warmed teapot, tossed in some tea leaves, and poured more boiling water on top. “Fairfax was born and brought up overseas. There are other such boys here at school, and they are the most fervent imperialists of all. Kashkari had no reason to think you would be different.”

He set aside the kettle and placed the lid on the teapot for the tea to steep. “So what did you think of the relationship between the empire and her colonies?”

She still couldn’t quite comprehend the sight of the Master of the Domain making tea—for her. “I said an empire shouldn’t be too surprised that her colonies are unhappy with their overlord.”

“And Kashkari was pleasantly surprised by your attitude, no doubt.”

“He thought my thinking very unusual.”

“It is. And do not broadcast it. The last thing we want is to have you labeled as a radical.”

“What is that?”

“Someone whose parents had better explain why their son thinks as he does. Imagine an Atlantean youth piping up at school and saying that Atlantis should let go of all the realms under its control. The reaction here probably would not be quite as extreme, but better not test it.”

She nodded—she saw the point.

He filled a teacup and brought it to her. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted him so near. “Thank you, though you don’t need to ply me with food and drink all the time.”

“You would do the same for the most important person in your life.”

She set down the teacup harder than she needed to. In the wake of that resounding thud, an uneasy silence spread—uneasy for her, at least, caught between the dark allure of his words and the harshness of her own common sense. And he was so close, she could smell the silver moss with which his clothes had been stored, the clean, crisp scent of it made just slightly peppery by the heat of his body.

“I need to go back to the laboratory,” he said, taking a step back. “Stay safe in my absence.”

From his laboratory, Titus returned to Mrs. Dawlish’s for supper, then to his own room to test the trial he planned for Fairfax. He emerged from the Crucible disoriented and nauseous, to knocks on his door.

Wintervale charged in. “What the hell is going on out there? Why are there armored chariots everywhere all of a sudden? Is there a war going on I haven’t heard about?”

Titus gulped down a glass of water. “No.”

“Then what? Something is going on.”

Wintervale’s family, even in exile, was extraordinarily connected. He would learn sooner or later. And if Titus lied to a direct question, it would appear as if he were hiding something.

“Atlantis is hunting for an elemental mage who brought down a bolt of lightning.”

“You mean, like Helgira?”

The name still made Titus squeamish. “You could say that.”

“That’s poppycock. No one can do that. What’s next? Mages riding comets?”

A burst of masculine laughter came from Fairfax’s room next door. Who else had become her friend now?

Friends, he mentally corrected himself, as more boys joined in the uproarious laughter.

“You know what I think?” Wintervale set two fingers under his chin. “I think it’s just an excuse for Atlantis to get rid of some Exiles they don’t like. I’d better tell my mother to be extra careful.”

“We can all stand to be a bit more careful.”

“You are right,” said Wintervale.

Now why could Fairfax not be more like Wintervale, respectful and willing to take advice?

“How is Lady Wintervale, by the way?” he asked.

“Gone to her spas. I hope they calm her down. I haven’t seen her so jumpy in a while.”

Wintervale left only when it was nearly lights-out. But Fairfax’s room, when Titus pushed open her door, was still full. She sat cross-legged on her bed, Sutherland next to her, Rogers and Cooper, two other boys from the house cricket squad, straddling chairs pulled up to the bed. They were playing cards.

“Come and help me, prince,” she said casually. “I’m terrible at cards.”

“He really is,” said Sutherland.

“Good thing I’m a brilliant athlete and handsome as a god,” she said it with that affable cockiness she did so astonishingly well.

The boys laughed and booed.

“Full of ourselves, aren’t we?” asked Rogers.

“My mother taught me false modesty is a sin,” she said, smirking.

Titus had cautioned her against making friends. But the sharp feeling in his heart was not concern, but a stab of envy. Even if his circumstances had allowed friends, he would not have had them so easily. There was something about him that discouraged contact, let alone intimacy.

“It is almost lights-out,” he said.

Cooper, always awed by Titus, immediately set down his cards. “Better get back to my room then.”

More reluctantly, Sutherland and Rogers followed.

As Titus closed the door behind them, she shuffled the cards. “You’re very good at dispersing a party, Your Highness. Must have taken you years of practice.”

“Incorrect—I was born this talented. But you, it must have taken you years to perfect your act.”

“You refer to my innate and splendid charm?”

“Your charm is about as innate as my truthfulness.”

She gathered the deck in her right hand. The cards flew out of her fingers and landed neatly in the palm of her left hand. “Did you have something to tell me?”

He had not come with any particular purpose. But as her question fell, his answer sprang readily, as if he’d been mulling it over for a while. “I have been reading about your guardian. He has not made your life easy.”

“His own life was made impossibly difficult because of me.”

“Relax—I do not question his character. I only want to let you know that you took very good care of him. You have a good heart.”

Her glance, when it came, was as cold as a mountain stream. “I took care of him because I love him—and because I can never do as much for him as he has done for me by taking me in and giving me a home. Your compliments will not earn you greater devotion from my part. I will do as much as the blood oath stipulates and nothing more.”

Clever girl. She made him feel almost transparent.

“Good night, Your Highness.”

Grand, too, dismissing him as if he were a subject of hers, instead of the other way around.

He vaulted the few feet that separated them, kissed her on the cheek, and, before she could quite react, vaulted back to his place by the door. “Good night, Fairfax.”

CHAPTER

12

THE PRINCE WAS MANIPULATING HER, Iolanthe was sure. But to what goal? Did he think that telling her that she was infinitely precious to him, complimenting her on her good heart, or kissing her on the cheek would make her willingly embrace mortal danger for his sake?

Nothing would make her willingly embrace mortal danger for his sake.