“Brielle is not a burden. She is better than all of us combined.”
Luci didn’t suppose she would be particularly good at the art of war, but for Brielle, she would pick up the sword every time.
Eyes widening, Prince Ira shook his head, light brown hair mussing.
“Of course not. Did you think that’s what I meant? Brielle is incredible. I only worry for her as you do. I worry she won’t say when it’s too much, but more than that, I worry she deserves better than this,” he said.
The hackles on Luci’s back settled, and the fire dimmed. He understood. Taking a steadying breath and making a mental note not to murder the crown prince, Luci took another bite, letting herself process the next words because she didn’t know much, but she knew they were important.
“She would say she deserves what she chooses for herself and that she chose this. Chose you,” the bitterness on her tongue was probably a rough cut of chicken. “But more than that, it’s our job to protect her from herself because she will never say when it’s too much. We have to protect her even when she doesn’t want it.”
Aside from Mrs. Blakesley, Luci never really had an ally in her fight to ensure Brielle’s wellness. It was strangely comforting to know there was someone else who cared about her as much as Luci did. It just didn’t explain why there was a weight to the heart that beat in her chest. Maybe it was having to share Brielle.
“I promise I will protect her. It’s the least I can do, but more than that, it’s my honor to do so,” he said.
A knight vowing to his king on bended knee. Like Lancelot to King Arthur. Except that ended in betrayal.
“I’ll hold you to it,” she said, wishing there was water to coat her dry mouth.
The corner of his mouth pulled. “I’m sure you will.”
Silence stretched, and Luci finished the last of her plate, making sure to soak up every last drip of sauce onto the last bite of chicken. It filled her stomach to the point of bursting, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Every inch was worth the accompanying discomfort.
A few moments passed, and Luci decided it was a good idea to scoot Calcifer closer to the edge of the desk and lay her head on his mountainous fur. The silky soft strands of his orange fur were the perfect pillow. After a moment of confusion where he stretched out his paws with a long yawn, he curled back in and began his rumbling purr.
“Good, Beastie,” she yawned.
“For the second time in one day, I find myself incredibly envious,” he said.
Luci chuckled.
“I’m sure Noah would make you another tonic if you wanted to experience what it is to lie on a rumbling cloud,” she said.
“Why do you so easily call him by his name, but refuse to call me by mine?” he asked.
Was that—? Pressure built in Luci’s chest at the way the words were quiet, but strong. Sincere.
Lifting her head, she saw that Prince Ira was standing in front of the desk, arms folded over his chest. For a crown prince, he was often more relaxed than she would have expected. Like, he didn’t quite take the role seriously. Light. That was the word that came into her mind when she thought about him. Easy. Gentle.
Crisp white sleeves rolled up to his forearm, while his blue and gold vest hugged his lean form. Luci never gave much thought to what made a man attractive, but something about the way his forearms folded over his chest—
“Are you even listening to me?” he asked.
Was she?
“Yes?” she asked. “You wanted to know why I still call you by your title.”
His chuckle was deep as he ran his hand through his hair and leaned against a nearby bookshelf.
“Yes, but I was saying that you are quick to insult me, so the formality of my title seems unnecessary,” he said.
“I don’t insult you,” Luci said, furrowing her brow before recovering. “Besides, you are the crown prince; it wouldn’t be appropriate to refer to you as anything else. Noah is— did you know he grew up in Foxglove? He worked his way up to the Citadel on merely his natural talent. So really, he’s more of a peer, so referring to him by name is appropriate.”
One eyebrow arched towards the sky as if this were all quite amusing, but the muscle that feathered in his jaw gave away his irritation. Why was this important to him?
“You refer to Max by name,” he challenged.
“Well, he’s very bossy, and he’s not the crown prince,” Luci said.