“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Prince Maximillian,” she said.
“Ew.” he wrinkled his nose. “Call me, Max.”
“Max, this is Lady Brielle Treveon.” Prince Ira explained, still radiating amusement. “And why precisely are you in the library when you should be sleeping?”
For reasons she couldn’t begin to process, the name of her best friend stung against his lips. There was a voice inside Luci that screamed to tell him the truth, which she quickly stomped down. The sooner she found her way to the carriage, the better.
Max straightened his white shirt with all the dignity of a king and gestured to the floor where the abandoned pages lay scattered over the light blue carpet with lilies.
“I was trying to write when I heard you barge in here,” he said accusingly.
A small snort left Prince Ira as he knelt and began compiling the pages. When he was through, he handed them to Max, who muttered what might have been a thank you. It was hard to tell next to the frown that was pulling at his lips.
“My apologies. How are the stories going?” Prince Ira asked.
Righteous indignation radiated from the young prince as he clutched the papers to his chest.
“They aren’t stories,” he said, eyes glaring at Luci. “They are history.”
This might have been the strangest night of Luci’s life. First, she was sent to a ball wearing the finest clothes she had ever worn, danced with the crown prince, and now she was being put on trial by the youngest Vencia. She wasn’t even sure what she was supposedly accused of.
“Max gets a little offended when people doubt the existence of magic,” Prince Ira said with a fond smile.
Oh. Realization dawned on her that he would have heard their conversation. In that case, she was very deserving of his glare. It was probably in her best interest to beg forgiveness, but the best she could do was offer some common ground.
“My best friend loves all of it. She tells me all the time, magic is still everywhere, and fairy godmothers watch and help when you need it most,” she said.
Max rolled his eyes. “They do not. All the-.”
“All right, little brother.” Prince Ira said, gently pushing him to the exit. “Go to bed before someone else finds you.”
“Why? No one comes in here except you,” he challenged.
“Yes, well, I’ll come read what you wrote tomorrow morning and bring you some scones-”
“The raspberry kind!” Max said.
“Deal.”
He shot one more skeptical look over his shoulder at Luci and whispered something that made Prince Ira laugh, a deep baritone that brushed against her skin just right. As soon as the little prince was through the library doors and she was alone with the older one, she realized she needed to leave. There were too many feelings crowding her mind and her body. It was overwhelming and disarming.
“He’s writing down ourhistoryas he prefers it. Max is,” he ran his hand through his hair while he searched for the words, “He’s a really special kid. Some people just see his quirks and dismiss him, but at seven years old, he’s smarter than most of the people my father takes advice from.”
Luci nearly choked on the air, but what came out inside was a small snort that was mortifying. Prince Ira’s eyes widened, and he ran a hand over his face, mumbling to himself about saying stupid things.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-.”
Luci held up a finger. “Nope, you can’t take it back now. It’s already been spoken.”
The smile she was holding back was burning the inside of her lips, but the prince, who was so charming and perfect, fumbling for the right apology, was enough entertainment that she simply couldn’t put him out of his misery.
“I-” his face twisted like he was in physical pain.
For a moment, a small and wicked part of Luci enjoyed letting him struggle for the right words to redeem himself, but then again, she was pretending to be someone other than herself, so fair was fair.
“It’s fine.. You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I mean, Max seems like a smart kid.”
Relief flooded his features as he took a deep breath. It probably wasn’t often that the crown prince felt discomfort, but then again, there was something different about him. Something unexpected. It was in the way he ran his fingers over his clean-shaven chin and upper lip when he was thinking about something that puzzled him. It was in the way he talked about his little brother, who was all sharp edges with an air to him that was unique. Likely easily misunderstood, but not by his older brother, who only had kind things to say.