It was agreed. Nepenthe and Ora were to teach Lazar how to use his Snow. She wasn’t sure they were actually up to the task, but the King didn’t seem to care. Perhaps he had already asked the Coven and they turned him down. Perhaps he was afraid to approach them. Or perhaps he just thought he had nothing to lose.
The King brought Nepenthe back to Ora and Lazar. Ora was showing off her fire. There was a little flame in the palm of Ora’s hand. It was as delicate as that of a candle. It seemed impressive, but Nepenthe knew she had never worked very hard at stoking her flame beyond that. Ora preferred instead to focus on the magic of being beautiful. But looking at the two of them, and Ora’s face glowing in her own little light, Nepenthe could see that her magic was indeed working.
For lesson number one, Nepenthe proposed that they go outside the castle to lessen the chance that Lazar freeze something important.
Ora winked at him. Her magically-enhanced eyelashes sealed the deal on their attraction. If Lazar remembered Nepenthe at all in that instant, she was now forgotten.
“An excellent idea. We begin in the morning. Rebecca will get you settled,” the Prince said, dismissing them.
A girl appeared in the doorway. She wore a red uniform and was clearly a maid or a lady-in-waiting. Without further ado, the sisters were escorted down a long hallway.
“We rarely have female guests in the palace. And we have never had witches. Do you have any special requests, Miss River and Miss Ora?” the maid asked.
“Call me Nepenthe,” she ordered.
“Nepenthe,” the girl said, trying it out. She glared at Ora, who was suddenly miffed.
Ora liked the idea of being called Miss.
If the maid picked up on Ora’s displeasure, she didn’t show it.
“I’m Cammie. If you need anything, just ask for me.”
Nepenthe noticed that the Prince had gotten her name wrong. It figured.
Cammie kept walking ahead. The castle was even larger than it looked on the outside. Nepenthe’s last visit had of course not included a tour.
Ora was on cloud nine. Her eyes took in every detail, from the gilded gargoyles that held up lights to the velvety wallpaper that lined the walls. “Why can’t you enjoy this?” she asked, stopping the near skip of her step. Her long neck stretched upward and her gait slowed to a glide. Ora was practicing being a princess. “I think he’s divine. Why didn’t you say he was so dreamy, Nepenthe?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Ora,” Nepenthe warned. She felt the need to tamp down Ora’s enthusiasm. “Witches don’t marry princes, and besides, it’s very possible he could freeze you as soon as kiss you.”
Ora looked up at her sister sharply and produced a flame in the palm of her hand again.
“I doubt that.”
It was the first time in months that Nepenthe had seen Ora show even a hint of interest in her own magic. And it was one of the few times she’d ever seen her produce a flame. Perhaps the Prince inspired her.