“No wonder you get all those paintings as donations,” Emery said, as they strode down the path towards the stables. “They’re cheap. Your benefactors just throw to you the junk they don’t need at home and call it a donation.”

“They look better in daylight,” said Nico.

He had expected the prince to be at least mildly impressed by their art collection. Nobles were supposed to appreciate beautiful things. He himself had always been enchanted by the gallery.

“Sunlight or candlelight, not a single one of them is by a famous artist.”

“They’re still pretty.”

“Are you arguing with me?” Emery slapped him on the shoulder, and Nico felt chilled for a moment. He dared a look and found Emery eyeing him approvingly, which made something inside of him relax a bit. “I like that. Now, what’s the next stop? The pictures were cheap, and your pottery so horrendous that I’m surprised anyone buys it. I hope this place has more things worth boasting about, for what I’ve seen so far hasn’t impressed me.”

“It has a lot,” Nico said, although his confidence was shaken. So far, the midnight tour around the monastery and the grounds wasn’t going well. The things that Nico saw as charming about the place in which he had lived since childhood had no appeal to the prince. It probably made sense, for the man had surely seen more beautiful places, but it still made Nico feel stupid and insignificant.

There was still the garden, with its blooming night flowers. That had to work.

“What’s there?” said Emery, pointing at the wooden shed clinging to the outer wall.

“We keep some animals there. Rabbits, chicken, and such. Tulio takes care of them.” He stopped himself—the names held no meaning for Emery. He even referred to Thaddeus as ‘that abbot of yours’. Nico was possibly the only person in the monastery whose name the prince now knew. “There’s a bit of smell, but we will pass it quickly.”

“Dogs!” Emery exclaimed, and instead of continuing down the path stepped closer to the low post-and-rail fence surrounding the shed. Two noses were already peeking out curiously, and one of the dogs gave a low, tentative bark.

“Careful, your…” Nico began, but Emery was already reaching inside with both hands, patting, sinking his fingers deep into the long fur covering the dog’s heads. They responded eagerly, wagging their tails, whining and pushing their noses into his palms.

“Hello, dears. Hello, boys.” Still patting them, Emery glanced back at Nico with a surprisingly unguarded smile. “We have hounds at home. This trip was too long to drag them with us. These are not hounds, though.” He returned his attention to the dogs. “So much fur.”

“It’s a local breed. The winters are harsh in the mountains, so they need the fur. They’re sheepdogs.”

“You keep sheep, too?”

“No, but the villagers in the area do. These dogs are damaged—one limps, the other is half blind—so Tulio took them in.”

“Limping or blind, they’re sweethearts.” Emery bent lower, rubbing the two furry heads. “Can we let them out?”

An unbidden smile pulled at Nico’s lips. “They’ll make too much noise, your highness.”

He hadn’t even intended to stop here, for an animal enclosure wasn’t likely to appeal to the fussy noble, but apparently he had miscalculated him. The dogs and Emery were clearly a match made in heaven.

“Sure, noise. We don’t want that.” With a last affectionate pat he stepped back, straightening up. “Fine, then. Where to next?”

“The gardens, your highness.”

“Fine.” One of the dogs whined, and Emery gave him his hand to sniff. “Don’t cry, sweetheart, we’ll pass by here on our way back.”

The garden looked enchanted, like it always did at night, with its clear paths and the green bushes and trees decorated with elaborate patterns painted by the moonlight. The air was still, filled with the fragrance of the night flowers.

Their steps were almost soundless as they moved along the paths, the light and shadows turning them into a piece of the scenery, as if nature was accepting them as its own.

“That’s lots of wild greenery,” Emery whispered.

Nico couldn’t quite tell if the prince liked it, but the fact that he was whispering had to mean that some of the charm was getting to him.

“Our gardens at home are more neat. The gardeners give the trees all kinds of interesting shapes. Here, everything just grows as it wishes.”

“The Creator gave shape to all things,” Nico said. “Why change it?”

Emery gave him a look and then turned away. Mildly hurt that he had said something wrong, Nico followed him, making sure to keep half a step behind and to look anywhere but at him. Still, he was constantly aware of Emery’s presence, of his slow steps, of the grace he moved with. They learned things at the royal court, probably fencing or dancing, maybe some other arts, that enabled a person to move like this, as if he was floating on air. The thought made Nico feel small again, even though he was nearly a head taller than the prince. Emery was a learned man, and what did Nico know? To read, to write, a bit of carpentry, a bit of pottery and plenty of prayers. Still, the prayers mattered the most, didn’t they?

“No, no, no,” someone said, surprisingly loud, a few steps away. “My answer is no.”

Nico froze in place, and Emery stopped, too. The path curved in front of them, leading, Nico knew, to the wooden garden alcove that was still out of sight, save for the top of its blue roof visible over the bushes.

“I must beg you to reconsider.” It was a different voice this time, and a shiver ran down Nico’s spine as he recognized Thaddeus’s voice.

Emery took another step, and Nico’s hand shot out instinctively, grabbing his wrist. The prince turned, looking surprised, and Nico quickly opened his fingers, realizing what he’d done. Still, he wasn’t sure if he feared the wrath of a royal he’d touched without permission more than that of Thaddeus. If Thaddeus discovered him at night, eavesdropping, in the company of a guest he wasn’t supposed to communicate with—Nico didn’t even want to consider the consequences.

“I’m sorry, your highness,” he whispered quickly, “but this is Thaddeus, our abbot.”

“I know,” Emery whispered back. “And the other voice belongs to my father.”

Nico’s heart sunk even lower.

“We must leave,” he whispered urgently. “They can’t see us.”

“Damn right they can’t,” Emery whispered back, and Nico stared with unease at the mischievous smile that appeared on the prince’s face. “But we can hear them, and I’ll be damned if I leave before I know what this is about.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *