Regis still sat in the library while she worked in the mornings, and she had meetings all afternoon, but the second afternoon after they’d talked in the middle of the night, she walked into the library, shut the door behind her, and carefully backed away from it, as if it was bound to open at any second.

“I feel positively wicked,” she said when she finally turned to him, smiling. “I feel even worse for feeling happy about it.”

“What?” he asked. “Didn’t you say you had meetings all afternoon?”

“I,” she closed her eyes tightly as if pained, and then peeked at him with one eye, “asked Serono to take notes for me.”

Regis grinned at her. “That’s not wicked.”

“It feels like I’m shirking duties,” she said. “It’s a meeting about types of crop transfers, but I still feel like I’m shirking duties.”

Regis came over and took her hands. “You deserve a break. Especially after this morning.”

“Was it that obvious?” she asked. The King of Adife had been even worse than usual.

“No,” he said. “That’s why you deserve a break.”

She smiled, but that faded almost immediately. “But what do I do?”

“Whatever you want,” he said. “You’re the crown princess.”

“I don’t know what I want,” she said. “I’d sort of like to go outside, but Geo will advise against it for security reasons, and my ladies will advise against it because it’s wet—but I’m going. Do you want to come with me?”

They ended up walking through the orchard until she had to get ready for dinner, talking about . . . whatever came to mind in the moment. They started talking about Irene’s war and somehow the conversation wound through history to childhood memories to food to art to music.

The next day the same thing happened—there was one meeting she didn’t have to oversee, so she came to find him and they talked, this time while she went over possible designs for another set of silverware.

So it went for the rest of the week.

“Alright,” Nem said the night before the second week was up, “either she’s fallen completely in love with you or you’re just good for her.”

“It’s the resting,” he said. “She now has at least an hour of free time every day.”

“So you’re good for her,” she said.

“Rest is good for her.”

“You got her to rest.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“If you say so.”

The King of Adife had left earlier that day, so at breakfast the next morning it was only Charlotte, Regis, Nem, and the normal nobility of the house who sat down to breakfast.

“The air feels cleaner somehow this morning,” Charlotte said. “It’s as if some putrid thing has been removed.”

By the smiles and covered laughs Regis knew that the king had gotten on everyone else’s nerves, too.

“I’m afraid you’ll also be leaving us today, are you not?” the duke asked Charlotte.

“I must,” she said. “Every day the people in my entourage get more nervous about the snows.” She went on in praises for how he’d welcomed her and how fine his estate was, saying everything polite. Regis wondered if he’d go with her—if she asked he’d say yes.

“Are you leaving us as well?” the duke asked Nem.

“I also have to,” she said. “I’ve been invited to stay at the Boarderlord Chestern’s estate for the snows, so I need to make plans with my steward.”

The duke, surprised, looked at Regis. “You’re not staying to manage it?”

“I can’t manage it,” he said, quite truthfully. “I’ve studied swordplay, not the specifics of land management. A hole in my education, but Nem’s good enough at it for both of us.”

The duke made a noncommittal sound and moved on. He was probably thinking that if Nem were so good at land management, why were they so poor? Regis almost laughed, thinking about the irrigation system overhaul. The Duke had no idea.

As they rose from breakfast Charlotte stopped, as if remembering something. “Nem, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something. Would you walk with Regis and me?”

Nem almost looked resigned as she agreed. As soon as they were all but alone in a hall, walking to the library, Charlotte looked at her.

“Will you hate me for even offering to steal your brother for the snows?”

Something in Regis’ chest was suddenly warm, and lighter. If he were more sentimental he’d have said his heart leaped.

“I could hardly hate you,” Nem said. “I’ve heard too much good about you over the years.”

Regis felt himself color badly, but fortunately Charlotte was walking between Nem and him, and turned toward Nem.

“I’ll miss him,” Nem said, “and you’ll have to deal with him missing me, but it’s all his decision.” They both looked at Regis.

“You know I’ll go,” he said, and Nem sighed. Regis raised his eyebrows at her. “Do you really want me there? Besides, you’ll be able to sigh dramatically over dinner and bemoan my absence while hinting at him that he might become someone you care about enough to bemoan the absence of just as much—”

Nem’s cheeks had flushed, but she was laughing. “I hadn’t even thought of that. Thank you.”

“Just keep in mind he’s a strategist,” Regis said. “If you try to play him he’ll see it.”

“You’ve said that five times already.”

“You aren’t listening.”

Charlotte was listening with a younger smile than she usually wore around anyone else but him, and when Nem saw it she blinked, making it disappear immediately.

“Well,” Charlotte said as they got to the door, “I have work, but thank you, Nem. Perhaps you’ll come see him after the flooding.”

Regis wondered if she’d meant that implication.

“Regis.”

At the warning tone Regis did not look up at the door. Nem had opened the door to his room, where he was packing the few things he had.

She shut the door. “I told her it wouldn’t help you.”

Then he looked up at her. “Did you tell her it would harm me?”

“I had to admit it wouldn’t,” she said. “No more than a small amount, added to the overall—and then she looked guilty. I think she’s taking you because she likes you.”

“She’s told me she likes me around,” he said.

“I mean more than enjoys your company,” Nem said.

He shook his head. “I think it’s because she enjoys my company.”

“She likes you,” Nem said, “I know she does.”

“She might,” Regis said, going back to packing so she wouldn’t see him blush—not that it mattered. She knew he was. “Either way it wouldn’t have an effect on her choice. She’s practical.”

“Really?” Nem asked. “Why don’t I believe that?”

Regis stopped and looked at her in confusion.

“You think she is?” Nem asked. “So far, aside from hearsay of her practicality in government, she’s decided to let you spend a week with her, added a week, and is now inviting you to stay with her for the snows. With the amount of security she has, and what I think that means, none of that is practical.”

“She can be impulsive,” Regis said, “but she’s been thinking about inviting me for at least three days, and as far as I can tell if it takes more than a few seconds her decision is mostly practical.”

“Then I don’t know why she is,” Nem said.

“She likes my company,” he said again.

“That’s not a practical reason,” Nem said.

Regis considered. “Yes,” he said, “actually I think it is. Why it is . . .” he stopped, acutely aware of the moment, “is not mine to tell.”

There was a silence as Nem took it in, too. It was the first time they hadn’t been completely open with each other at least since their parents died, if not longer.

Nem’s eyes filled with tears.

“Nem—”

“It’s not that,” she said. “I’ll miss you. That’s all.”

“I’ll be back after the flooding,” he said. “She’ll figure everything out and I won’t be useful anymore, just a liability—so no matter how much she likes me I won’t be able to stay. That will likely happen long before the floods, maybe even within the next few weeks. Then I can’t tell you how much I’ll miss you.”

“We’re both off to risk our hearts—you with obvious heartache at the end, me too much of a possible heartache for my liking.”

“Do you like him that much?” Regis asked.

“He left this morning,” Nem said, “and I talked to him for another minute. I think I might.”

She helped him finish packing and ordered him not to worry about research for her irrigation system unless he needed a horribly boring distraction.

“I wish I could make you another suit,” she said as they tied up his box. “The snows are the second largest social event months.”

“I know,” Regis said. He’d been trying not to think about it, but at least his one nice suit was a neutral black with minimal decorations. It wouldn’t be quite so obvious if he wore it two nights in a row. He hoped that was all he’d need.

“I’ll leave you with the emergency funds I have,” she said.

“No!”

“You take it or I’ll ask the princess to keep it for you.”

“Neeeem.”

“Get another suit,” she said. “Maybe two. Pay it back with being happy when you wear them.”

“I can’t—they’re the emergency funds.”

“It’s only one of the stashes,” she said. “I forget how many more we have. If that’s the case this counts as an emergency.”

Regis looked at her helplessly, but he didn’t have any money of his own, and if he wanted to appear at social events he’d need the proper clothes. He hated it, but she was right.

“Be happy while you can be,” Nem said. “Please.”

“And don’t let him break your heart,” Regis said. “If he does what a pair we’ll make after the floods.”

They could each crack a smile at that, but the possibility was too real for anything more.

“I’d forgotten,” Charlotte said as they rode, “how unbelievable you are. I saw what you ate at breakfast. Did you at least have a snack?”

“No,” Regis said. “I am getting a little hungry.”

“It’s almost lunch time,” Charlotte said, “and I’m famished. How you can be in love when you’ve seen how much I eat is beyond me.”

Regis blinked. “Why would that mean anything?”

“My ladies tell me it does,” she said.

Regis didn’t say that the more he heard about what her ladies-in-waiting told her the less he liked their advice.

Regis was given a full serving for lunch, but he ate only a portion, and when Charlotte had finished hers but was denied more by food rationing—Regis thought they should have planned more carefully if Charlotte was involved, unless her ladies had planned it—he offered his mostly-full plate.

“I must be honest,” she said, taking it with a rueful grin, “I was about to ask you. Really, how did you develop any muscle with those portions?”

Regis could only shrug, and Charlotte shook her head at him in wonder.

“By the way,” she said, “I haven’t noticed you practicing.”

“I’ve been distracted,” he said. “Whatever small share of Irene’s gift I have has gone to keeping up what I’ve gained.”

Charlotte carefully swallowed her bite and took a sip of water before fixing him with a cold stare. “What?”

“I don’t lose anything from skipping a few days,” he said.

“What about a whole week?” she asked.

Regis shook his head, trying to figure out her expression.

“How long does it take?” she asked.

“I’ve never gone longer than a month at most,” he said.

“Of all the—” she cut off and took a large bite, the cold thawing into sulky. “I didn’t get that,” she said once she could talk again.

“It could be a slightly different magic,” he said. “I’ve thought about it before, but it seemed unlikely.”

“I choose to believe that,” Charlotte said, “and not that Irene’s gift jilted me for some sixteenth cousin or whatever you are.”

At that Regis laughed, and after a moment Charlotte gave a small smile.

“I notice if I miss a day,” she said. “At least magic doesn’t require constant practice to stay in the same place, much less move forward.” She made a face at him and then went back to her food.