The Errant Prince Read Online Free PDF Page A

wasn't sure why Tamsen wasn't running him off or trying to sneak away.
    The answer hit him in the face as he stepped through the doorway into Tamsen's cottage again. It was obvious in all the little touches around the house: the books would have taken time and money to collect; there were personal bits and bobs tucked in the shelves, nooks, and crannies around the room; and there were several homemade throws tossed over the chairs in front of the fire.
    Tamsen's cottage was a home, not a hideaway. If Myron were in Tamsen's position, he'd do what he could to stay—even try to convince a nosy soldier not to say anything to anyone.
    "Sit," Tamsen ordered, pointing Myron to his earlier seat. Myron did as he was told, contemplating his theory. The only hole in it was that Tamsen wasn't exactly trying to butter him up. He watched Tamsen as he fetched dishes, the soup he'd put together earlier, and a jug of something that turned out to be a weak, but not terrible, ale. Tamsen served them both, then took the seat across from Myron.
    "Why not try and bribe me?" Myron asked, feeling out his theory.
    "Do you see anything around here worth as hefty a bribe as I'm sure you'd require?" Tamsen asked, ignoring his soup in favor of his ale. "Bribes are only so useful, and there's nothing to guarantee you'd stay bought once you returned to Rishaw. How did you find me, anyway? I thought I'd laid a good false trail to Sumira."
    "That was pretty easy to discredit. The port master was arrested for accepting bribes a few months ago, and he gave your bribe up alongside a bunch of others," Myron said. He ate another spoonful of soup. "This is really good."
    "Thanks," Tamsen said dryly, but he started eating his own soup finally.
    "I probably wouldn't have found you if I hadn't run across a peddler who swore he saw you selling something in Traversin. I followed that back to here, though it wasn't easy. I don't think anyone thought he was telling the truth, but eventually they'll run down everything else and come this way for thoroughness' sake."
    "Wonderful." Tamsen drank down the rest of his ale and poured another glass. Myron didn't comment, continuing to eat. The soup was good, flavored by hints of spices that Myron couldn't even begin to name. Cooking was not one of his specialties, despite how much time he spent traveling on his own.
    Tamsen didn't seem very happy as he ate his soup slowly. Myron almost wanted to offer to leave Tamsen in peace. He could easily sow misleading information. All he had to do was report the cottage was a dead end, and that would gain Tamsen plenty of time, particularly if he laid low and didn't visit any of the larger cities.
    That wasn't what his orders were, however, and if his deception ever came to light, he'd lose everything. Everything he had left, anyway, and he doubted Stirling's reasons for finding Tamsen were stupid. Myron finished his meal and brought his dishes to the washbasin. It was already filled with water, and Myron heated it with a quick flash of magic.
    "You can cast fire magic and build constructs but can't cast a light spell?" Tamsen said, sounding absolutely baffled.
    Myron shrugged, shoving back his sleeves. He started washing the dishes they'd used for lunch first. "Light spells aren't in most magic books." They were one of the first spells taught to new wizards after a few months of book learning. Myron hadn't gotten past the book learning.
    Tamsen came up behind him, setting his dishes down. He lingered a moment but walked away without pressing further. Myron finished the washing up and laid the dishes out to dry. Myron dried his hands off on the front of his pants, and then turned for some indication of what Tamsen wanted him to do next.
    He was fussing with the fire, making it change color from yellow to green again. Myron didn't know what the different colors meant; perhaps he could learn that if Tamsen used him as another set of hands tomorrow.
    Tamsen looked weary, the set of his