Page 15 of A Fragile Enchantment

“Is that so?” Kit asked, annoyed.

“Oh, yes. I don’t mean to offend, but your usual wardrobe of black and only black was beginning to depress me. This one makes me feel warm and fuzzy just looking at you.”

“Fuck off,” Kit replied, but there was no bite to it.

Niamh snorted. Never in a thousand years did she expect such foul language to come out of a prince’s mouth. Kit and Sinclair bickered no differently than a couple of Machlish lads stumbling home from the pub. Some things, she supposed, were universal.

“No disrespect to you, of course, Miss O’Connor,” Sinclair said after a moment. “It is a lovely coat. It really does suit him.”

“Thank you,” she said miserably.

Sinclair raised an eyebrow at her tone. His gaze darted back and forth between Kit and Niamh. “Oh? I see you two are still getting along swimmingly.”

Kit huffed. “Are you incapable of minding your own business?”

“Now, now, Christopher, are you sure that’s how you wish to speak to me? I do know all of your secrets.” Sinclair sidled closer to Niamh and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you know, Miss O’Connor, that Kit here was a very sensitive child? In fact, I recall that on his tenth birthday—”

“Stop.” Kit’s face turned crimson in an instant. “What’s the matter with you today?”

“Me? Why, nothing.” Sinclair flashed Niamh a sly smile.

Just then, the doors to the drawing room opened, letting in a wash of excited chatter and nervous giggles. The presentation of the debutantes had begun.

“Miss Selby,” the herald announced, “accompanied by her mother, the Right Honorable Lady Selby.”

Miss Selby strode into the room with her chin held imperiously high—most likely to balance her precarious headdress. Thefeathers in her hair reached nearly a yard into the air and quivered with her every step. In one hand, she held a fan made of ivory. In the crook of her other arm, she cradled a bouquet of white lilies. She curtsied to Jack and accepted Sofia’s outstretched hand. Now, Niamh saw her mistake. Miss Selby pressed a kiss to the sapphire in Sofia’s ring.

“Your Royal Highnesses,” she said with grave solemnity, “I carry the divine blood of Saint Isolde in my veins. What would you hear?”

The nobles around them leaned in, chattering excitedly.

“What gift did Saint Isolde have?” Niamh asked.

“Prophecy,” Kit said.

Niamh had never seen magic of its kind. Soothsayers had not walked on Machlish soil for centuries. The Avlish had been quite meticulous about disposing of them in the early days of their occupation. “That is incredible.”

Sinclair shrugged. “Don’t get too excited. Last year, her older sister predicted we’d have at least one little heir to the throne running around, and look how that turned out.”

Kit shot him a disgusted look.

“Will the day of the wedding be auspicious?” Sofia asked.

Miss Selby’s eyes flared golden. The dramatic silence stretched out so long it became awkward. Somewhere in the depths of the drawing room, someone coughed. At last, Miss Selby spoke.

“There is a twenty percent chance of rain on the day of Infanta Rosa and Prince Christopher’s wedding.” A pause. “Erm… Most likely. I can say so with approximately twenty-five percent certainty.”

“Thank you, Miss Selby.” Jack rubbed his temples as though he was fighting off a headache. “That was most illuminating.”

Tepid applause pursued her out of the room.

As the next debutante began to make her way down the aisle, Niamh stole a glance at Kit. As much as she couldn’t stand him, as intolerably rude as he was to her, she couldn’t let him believe thatthis horrid coat represented the whole of her abilities. It simply would not do.

She leaned closer and whispered, “Your Highness.”

“I said not to call me that.” He sighed thinly, as though the conversation had already exhausted him. “What do you want?”

Oh!How had a prince not internalized a single thing about good manners? Granted, she wasn’t entirely sure what they taught noble children, but she was certain there was at least a basic etiquette class or three on the curriculum. “I wanted to talk to you about your coat.”