The Errant Prince Read Online Free PDF Page B

bath."
    Myron snorted but nodded. He finished off the last of his breakfast, glancing around the cottage as he did so. Something seemed different… His eyes landed on the purple fire burning once more without firewood.
    "Why do you need firewood, anyway?" Myron asked. He looked at Tamsen, gaze lingering on Tamsen's fingers when he licked a bit of soft cheese from them.
    "Not every fire I make is magical," Tamsen said. He gathered up their dishes, leaving Myron to wonder what Tamsen might use a wood-based fire for. Myron glanced around the cottage again, trying to pinpoint what was different from the previous day. Nothing stood out, except perhaps it was tidier? "Come on, day's wasting."
    Myron drank down the rest of his tea, barely managing to keep a straight face at the taste. He followed Tamsen outside and around toward the well. Some twenty feet past the well, closer to the woods, was a large stump and a stack of thick logs that Myron had noticed the previous day but not really noted.
    "Find me when you're finished," Tamsen said. He headed back toward the cottage, and Myron stifled a laugh. Tamsen might not be the epitome of spoiled prince, but it seemed even he wasn't above fobbing off hard labor when he could.
    A bit of rooting around produced an axe—not as sharp as Myron would have liked, but serviceable—and Myron set to work. He hadn't chopped wood since his early days in the King's Guard, but it was easy enough to fall into the familiar rhythm of it. He'd spent three months doing nothing but chopping wood and hauling water with the other new recruits, the first of a long series of tasks meant to weed out the weak and build up strength.
    It was as boring and monotonous as he'd remembered, but it was also easier than he'd built up in his head. That didn't mean he didn't work up a sweat; the day was too warm to keep him cool. About an hour in, Myron shucked his shirt. The fabric binding his chest would have to stay, but that was a necessary evil. Myron took advantage of the break to fetch up a bucket of water from the well, grabbing a quick drink before returning to his chopping.
    He worked steadily through the morning, catching glimpses of Tamsen here and there around the edge of the cottage. Tamsen seemed to be up to something in his garden, and Myron was pleased that Tamsen hadn't set him to work only to laze about.
    Myron stopped about two-thirds through the stack of wood, when the sun tipped past its apex and started its downward curve. Stretching his arms above his head, he headed for the well. He washed up as much as he could and drank what seemed like an entire bucket of water. He debated fetching his shirt again, but Tamsen had likely seen him without it by this point. It was too hot besides, Myron decided, and headed for the cottage in search of food.
    He met Tamsen as he was rounding the corner of the cottage. Tamsen was near covered head to toe with dirt. It was caked into the knees and shins of his pants and liberally streaked across his shirt and face. He wore a wide-brimmed straw hat, his face shaded beneath it.
    "Are you injured?" Tamsen asked, surprise and concern crossing his face. He stepped closer, lifting a hand, but almost immediately dropped it to his side, the fingers clenching into a fist. "You didn't have to—"
    "I'm fine," Myron said, cutting Tamsen off before he could work himself up further. "I'm not hurt. I wouldn't have agreed if I were."
    Tamsen's brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth—but Myron cut him off, not really wanting to hear whichever stupid question Tamsen would invariably ask. "Are you feeding me this afternoon, highness?" Myron asked.
    "Tamsen," Tamsen snapped. He rubbed at his forehead, leaving another streak of dirt just under the brim of his hat. "Yes. Go wait inside while I clean up."
    Myron did as he was told, relieved Tamsen hadn't pushed. That wasn't to say Tamsen wouldn't push in the cottage, but Myron was happy for the reprieve. He definitely should have put