Lamps and Lies

by Laura Greenwood

  "Thank you."

  "You're welcome," he responds, picking up his own cup and blowing across the top. "Sometimes, I like to put honey in my tea too. But it's probably too much when we have so many delicious sweet things." He doesn't look at the selection on the table between us as he speaks. Instead, his eyes bore into me, as if suggesting that I am somehow the sweet thing he's referring to.

  I glance away, a blush rising to my cheeks as his compliment fully registers. I don't think I've ever felt this way around someone before. And even if I'm trying not to feel it, affection rushes through me.

  I twirl the ring on my finger, a nervous tick I've picked up. It's probably something to do with me wanting to check that the genie is still safe and that I'm not alone in a tough situation. I should be more careful, though. All it does is draw attention to the one jewel I shouldn't.

  "It's a pretty ring, where did you get it?" Enver asks, as if echoing my thoughts.

  My eyes widen. What am I going to tell him? The ring is nowhere near ornate enough for something a princess should wear, and yet I do, all the time. I have to settle for something close to the truth.

  "A woman gave it to me as a way of thanking me for helping her when she fell down." I suppose the only part of that which is a lie is that she gave it to me. But I can hardly tell him that she dropped it, and that I hoped to sell it for food because I was starving.

  Did the woman who lost this know about the genie in the ring? I suspect not, or she'd have been more careful with it. Though for all I know, she went back to the market to try and find it again, but I'd already gone. I try not to think about it too much, or I'll be eaten alive by guilt.

  "Did she know you were a Princess?" he asks.

  "No. I was dressed as a commoner." I'm walking the line between the truth and a lie now, but it feels better than outright deceiving him.

  "Ah, I see. I've done that myself when I want to go unnoticed, though naturally, Father doesn't approve of that."

  I chuckle. "It doesn't sound like your Father approves of much."

  "You're right there," Enver admits.

  I feel sorry for him. I've never considered that Princes and other nobles might have as many troubles and restrictions in their lives as we paupers do, but now I'm talking to him, I realise how true that must be. They can't fall in love with whoever they want, or be friends with who they please. They can't even be sure about who they can trust, lest they be taken advantage of by people with bad intentions.

  People like me.

  It's best if I don't pursue that line of thought or I'll drive myself crazy.

  "Alyeesah?" Enver asks, drawing my attention away from my thoughts.

  "Oh, sorry, just lost in thought. Did you ask something?"

  He smiles reassuringly at me. "I asked if you wanted anything else to eat or drink."

  "Oh, no. I'm quite full, thank you." I smile in return, just so he knows I'm not saying it because I don't want to spend any more time with him.

  "Shall we call one of the carriages, or would you like to walk back up the castle?"

  I study him closely, checking to make sure he really is interested in a walk over anything else.

  "A walk would be lovely." Especially if it means I get to spend more time with him.

  He nods and gestures to one of the servers. The girl comes over and accepts a small bag of coins from Enver. I reach for my own coin pouch, a blissfully full one thanks to the coffers provided by the genie.

  "I can't allow you to pay for dinner," he insists.

  "But..."

  "Please, Alyeesah." A small thrill runs through me because of the way he says my name. There's something delectable about it, even if it's a fake lengthened version of my real name. I suppose the genie is right, there isn't much of a difference between Aly and Alyeesah.

  We walk through the streets arm in arm. The night is clear and crisp. It's not cold enough for snow yet, but the season is definitely on the turn.

  The castle approaches faster than I'm ready for it to. I don't want our date to end. He's pleasant company and seems to respect that I can have my own opinion about the things that matter.

  Enver brings us to a stop outside the grand doors and lifts my hand to his lips. He presses a soft kiss against the back of it, sending a shiver down my spine.

  "I've had a lovely evening, Alyeesah."

  "As have I, Enver." It almost feels wrong to use his given name, but so right at the same time.

  And I mean every word. It turns out that not lying to him is very easy.

  Chapter Six

  I dip my quill in the ink, then pull it back out and jot down a few more notes about the history of the formation of the kingdoms. It's not something I actually have much interest in, but it feels like the kind of thing I should know, so I want to be careful and study this particularly carefully.

  I set my quill down and turn back to the book I have open in front of me. The writing is small and cramped, which is making it slow going, but I'm going to manage it. I want to come across as knowing the right things, even if I've only just learned them.

  The text mentions something about a map, and sure enough, when I flip over the page, there is one. I trace the lines, wondering where the genie would consider my kingdom to be. We've never talked about that, though perhaps we should in case anyone asks me where my kingdom is. It seems like an easy way to get caught.

  I suppose I could pretend I'm clueless about geography. I've seen other girls successfully pull it off, and it may be my only hope of pulling this off.

  A loud sigh escapes me, even though I try to suppress it. I glance up and around the library to check that no one has heard me. I'm a fool for studying down here, but the book I need is here, and deep down there's the hope that Enver may show up and I can spend more time with me.

  I groan. I need to get over this infatuation, or I'm going to end up in so much trouble.

  My annoyance intensifies as I notice Fatin walking towards me. I'm about to bow my head and return to my study of the book in front of me when she waves.

  Great. Now it's rude of me to ignore her. Instead, I smile, then turn the page, making it look like that's what I was going to do already. I don't want her to see the map and start asking questions. I have to be more careful than that. Once I've done that, I prepare the rest of the table for her arrival. Fatin isn't the kind of person who gets to the point quickly, and I don't want my quill drying out, or my ink knocking over. I close my notebook too. I don't want her to see how rudimentary my handwriting is. It's not as bad as it could be, but it definitely doesn't reach the same level of elegance as the handwriting I've seen from the other royals here.

  I gesture for one of the servants for some tea and cakes, the bangles around my arm clanking together as I do so. I need to work on being able to move my arm more subtly so that doesn't happen, but I often forget I'm wearing them now.

  The servant hurries off. I'm sure they'll be back in a matter of minutes with a tray. That's one of the reasons the servants are even stationed in the library. That and to see to any other needs of the assembled students.

  "Alyeesah, how lovely to see you here," Fatin says, sitting without waiting to be asked to.

  I wish I had the confidence to tell her off for the infraction. I'm the more senior noble as far as she's concerned, and she should be affording me the respect that title requires, even if it is only fake. She can get away without using my title thanks to the academy's rules, but to sit down without asking still goes against convention.

  "It is the library," I say through a forced smile. "Where else am I going to study?"

  "Ah, yes, study. I never did receive an invitation to a study session with the Prince." She doesn't do much to hide the scorn in her voice. She feels slighted by the lack of invitation to something that hasn't happened yet.

  "There hasn't been one yet, we're trying to find the perfect time," I answer as sweetly as possible.

  The perfect time is never if she's involved, espe
cially when I know she only wants to spend time with Enver so she can trap him into some kind of an alliance. Possibly one that involves the two of them getting married. The idea sits uneasily within me, even though my own intentions aren't all that pure. But I do want to protect him as much as I can. Even if I know Enver and I can't be together romantically, I still want to be his friend.

  Great. Now I'm lying to myself as well as to everyone else.

  Fatin raises an eyebrow and leans back in her chair. "That's a pity. I heard the two of you are spending a lot of time together."

  "We have some common interests. But compared to other people, I suppose I do spend more time with him," I acknowledge, wording things as carefully as possible. I don't want to make it sound like there's more going on than there is, but I also don't want her getting the wrong idea about whether or not she has a chance with him. If I have anything to do with it, then she definitely won't.

  "Hmm. I think you should invite me with you next time."

  "I'm sorry, Fatin, that's not my choice when Enver is making the plans."

  The expression on her face highlights my mistake. I shouldn't have used his name, it indicates a level of familiarity between the two of us that is far above what I'm suggesting is there. I need to be more careful.

  I'm saved from my slip of the tongue by the servant setting down a tray of tea and mini-cakes. They look delicious, and should hopefully distract Fatin long enough for her to forget what we're talking about so we can move on to other things.

  "I'm guessing he's taking you to the ball this weekend, then," she says, studying her nails.

  "The ball?" My heart sinks. What is she talking about?

  "The ball," she repeats, as if I'm stupid. "The one that's happening this weekend." She says the words slowly, and it's all I can do to refrain from kicking her under the table.

  Not that my delicate slippers would do much damage. She probably wouldn't even feel it through all the layers of fabric our dresses would provide.

  "I haven't heard anything about a ball," I admit softly.

  "Oh, I see. Perhaps you and the Prince aren't as close as you might think, if he's not taking you," she sneers.

  I guess her being nice to me is a thing of the past then.

  "I don't presume to know the Prince's plans at every point in time," I add smoothly. "I'm sure whatever lady he is taking to the ball is worthy of his company."

  Even as I say the words, a stab of jealousy winds its way through me. I don't like the idea of Enver going to a ball with someone else, even if I'm saying I don't mind. What else can I say? It's not like I can keep up this charade around him forever.

  "Hmmm. I guess we'll see." She rises to her feet and sweeps off, leaving her full cup of tea behind her.

  I roll my eyes. I shouldn't have expected anything else from an interaction with Fatin. She never has anyone's best interests at heart other than her own. Though perhaps that's true of us all.

  I watch her go, not because I want to, but because I need to know for sure that she isn't coming back. Her presence always makes me far more uncomfortable than I like to admit. I'm not sure what it is about her, but there's something off about the way she speaks to me. Almost like she's constantly plotting something.

  Maybe she is. The whole academy is full of people of high birth, I'm sure there are so many plots going on that it's impossible to throw a stone without hitting one. I hope I don't become collateral in whatever it is she's plotting, though.

  Just as I'm about to decide that she isn't coming back, the doors open and Enver rushes in. He scans the room, and when his eyes land on me, his whole demeanour softens.

  My heart quickens.

  Stop it.

  Chiding myself isn't working any more. There's something about Enver which makes it impossible for me to think of him as nothing more than a potential friend.

  He rushes over. "You're here," he says.

  Why do those words fill me with such joy when they filled me with such annoyance when Fatin said them? They're the same.

  And yet oh so different.

  "I am. Is everything all right?"

  He seems a little harried, like he's just received bad news. It isn't likely that he's found out the truth about me, he's not angry enough for that. Perhaps his Father wants to send him to a different academy again? My stomach sinks at the thought of losing out on more time with him. I don't want him to leave.

  "Yes, well, I don't know." He sits down. "Whose is this?" He points to the still steaming teacup.

  "Fatin's," I say with a sigh. "She didn't touch it, though."

  "Good." He picks it up and takes a sip.

  "Enver?" I question. "What's wrong?"

  "I just found out about the ball," he says. "And I didn't want you to think I wasn't going to ask you..."

  "Oh."

  "And if you can forgive me, then I'd really like it if you'd accompany me."

  "There's nothing to forgive," I assure him.

  "Then you'll say yes?" Hope fills his gaze as he watches me for my answer.

  A soft laugh escapes me. "Of course I'll go with you."

  I don't know why I'm agreeing. Except, that's not true. I know why I want to go with him. It'll be fun and the two of us will have a great time. But that doesn't mean I should be accepting invitations like this one.

  Enver's whole body relaxes at my response, as if he was truly worried I'd tell him no.

  Chapter Seven

  The moment the doors swing open and the two of us are announced, I'm struck by the enormity of what I'm doing. While the word hasn't been used, we've more or less just announced to the rest of the students here that we're courting.

  Kind of. To some of them, it won't even cross their minds. From what I've seen, most of the kingdoms seem to be comfortable with casual ball escorts, but anyone from the East kingdoms, like we are, will know instantly what it means.

  Why didn't I think of this?

  "Is everything all right?" Enver whispers to me.

  I nod, the jewelled band around the top of my head making its weight known. I'm not used to wearing anything like this. It's been in my trunks since I arrived at Grimm, but I haven't been confident enough to wear it. But things have changed since I started spending more time with Enver, and I feel more capable of wearing some of the more extravagant pieces the genie created, even if I am aware of them.

  "You look beautiful," he says. "Not that you don't always. I don't mean to say you don't..."

  I reach out and put a hand on his sleeve. "Thank you, I know what you meant," I assure him.

  It's surprised me how unsure he is of himself sometimes. Almost as if he doesn't think people want to spend time with him. Anyone who has ever made him feel that way is a fool. Even if he was a pauper, I would want to spend time with him. He's funny, charming, and thoughtful. The fact he's a Prince has nothing to do with why I want to be at this ball on his arm. In fact, that's a reason for me not to spend more time with him.

  A noble was my goal, not a royal. This is just going to spell trouble for me. Knowing that isn't enough to make me want to stop though.

  I'm a terrible person. That much is becoming clearer to me than ever. But the guilt isn't unmanageable yet. Once it becomes so, I'm going to have to tell Enver the truth and live with the consequences.

  Maybe I should do it tonight before I get any further involved with him.

  I glance at him and soften the instant I see his smile.

  "Would you like to dance?" he asks.

  "Yes, but I'm not very good," I admit, hedging my bets that he was also unfamiliar with the style of dancing popular here at Grimm when he arrived, and so both of us know as much as one another and it has nothing to do with my past on the streets.

  He chuckles. "I'm not either, but everyone seems to be having so much fun."

  I follow his gaze over to the dancing students. He's not wrong. Everyone has smiles on their faces, and there's a lot of laughter and joy coming from the dancefloor, even when
someone gets one of the steps wrong.

  The current song ends and the next begins. The dancers get into a formation I recognise from the class I'm in at the moment.

  "I know this one," I tell Enver.

  "Me too." He leads me onto the floor and we take up a position at the back. This way, no one will be able to see it when we go wrong. I appreciate that.

  At least the academy actually teaches us the skills we need to know for the balls, which I think are one of the main things they want to promote about academy life. By having us all meet here, we can forge alliances, friendships, and more, under their supervision and not need to worry about things going on in private. Not that I believe secret meetings don't happen. The academy may have rules about things like who can be in which room, but I've never seen any evidence that they enforce them. I suppose they have to be able to assure the parents of nobles and royals that nothing untoward can happen, even if it means letting their children have their own way.

  Besides, I haven't heard any scandals about things that go on here, so they must do well enough at covering them up. Other than the prophecies I've heard some of the students talking about, but I have no idea what that's about, and no one seems to talk about it in great detail, so I just ignore it.

  We move in time with the other dancers, my focus mostly on what the girl in front of me is doing. She seems to be sure-footed, and that means she's a good one to copy the movements from.

  Enver takes my hand and pulls me to him in time with the music. My dress drags out behind me, but because of the way the fabric falls, it doesn't spin out like the skirts of the other girls around us. It almost makes me feel like I'm flying.

  We end up face to face, so close I can almost feel his soft breath on my cheek. The echo of how his lips felt against the back of my hand tickles my skin, and I start to think about how it would feel if he kissed me.

  I bite my lip, trying to still my thoughts. I need to detach myself from this notion that there can be something between us. We can be friends, but nothing more.

  Unsurprisingly, my thoughts don't listen to my reason. They never seem to. It's like they have a mind of their own sometimes.