A Swithin Spin: A Princely Passion Read Free

research.”
    Still grinning, Ryanac walked out of the room, taking the door opposite to the exit Kilan had taken. Antal stood there for a moment, shaking his head. Take some time off. Easier said than done. What was the point? Take a week off, and the week you returned to your duties you just had twice as much work awaiting you and twice the stress. Besides, what use could such an old custom be to him? The ritual was ridiculous, and even if Ryanac hadn’t been suggesting he actually perform it, even reading up on the old ways was so utterly, utterly … Antal ran out of ways to complain. Ryanac just couldn’t be serious. He couldn’t be.
    One thing Antal could be certain of: having made his fears known to Ryanac, the man wouldn’t leave him alone. He’d give him time, but eventually the day would arrive when Ryanac would approach him to inquire how he was doing. He couldn’t afford the distraction, not even in a time of peace. His men often made a subdivision of Ryanac’s troop, those who guarded Markis. There would be times when Markis needed to go out into the world on diplomatic duties, and he’d take Uly with him. Antal and his men had to be ready for anything. It didn’t matter if they faced danger or general duties; the men under his command equally deserved someone interested in their lives and their fate. Lately Antal hadn’t felt interested in anything. Not only did he feel disconnected from his body, he felt disconnected from the men and his life. He hadn’t told Ryanac that, but he had enough sense to know he didn’t need to. He cast his thoughts back over their conversation, taking in Ryanac’s expressions and gestures.
    “Damn,” Antal whispered softly. If Ryanac told him to read up on the ritual, then he had a reason, and there was no avoiding it. Eventually, one way or another, Ryanac would make certain he read it. He might as well locate a copy and be done with it.
    * * *
    Having left the room, Kilan had climbed onto the ornate column to one side of the door. Leave? He wouldn’t have left even if he weren’t a prince. Telling him what to do almost guaranteed he’d do the opposite; he’d been like that since he was a boy. He did what he liked; it was why he hadn’t got along well with his father.
    Even as he had those thoughts, he accepted they weren’t entirely true. He mostly did what he liked, but if Markis told him to do something, he trusted his brother’s judgment in a way he had never trusted his father’s -- and with good cause, as it turned out.
    His reasons for being defiant in this instance were ambiguous. Even though he was unsure of his motives, he was always willing to go where his curiosity led. Lately he’d felt very curious about Antal’s moody disposition. Antal never behaved in a moody fashion. He was usually so seemingly carefree, always smiling, often laughing. People were drawn to Antal. Kilan had been subject to Antal’s allure often enough to know that the prince missed it. Lately Antal’s smile looked strained, appeared almost as an afterthought as if the guard remembered he should be smiling. He missed the happy, laughing young man so much that he had to know what ailed him so. He wanted to know what could wipe the smile off Antal’s face so readily, and he wouldn’t at all mind finding out what might put it back in its place. There were ways to make someone smile, or laugh, giggle, even sigh; the hard part was figuring out which of those things applied and which of them, if any, would get through Antal’s defenses and best matched Kilan’s overimaginative fantasies.
    He lay precariously balanced across the top of the doorframe. If he relaxed his muscles by a breath, he could well fall from his perch. Even now, his limbs started to shake; a deep trembling took up residence in his arms and legs, a tremor that threatened to undo him. Kilan held his breath as Antal passed beneath. When the young man paused, Kilan believed Antal sensed his presence. If Ryanac