“He was a formidable opponent. We lost. He won. I just happened to be able to kill or shove his entire army out of my kingdom before the consequences could set in.” The truth, nothing more. If he is Mazus’s spy, this information won’t reveal anything. If he’s not, the answer doesn’t give him anything the rest of the world doesn’t already know.

Hawthorne seems thoughtful, gaze fixed on his lap and brows furrowed. “What was he like before the war, when he was courting you?” Now I snort, trying to hold back laughter.

“Courting me? Is that the story in Velmara?”

“Yes,” he says slowly, confused. “That he was courting you, and you were close to marriage, but then one night you got extremely upset and lost control of your magic. The rest… well, I guess you know the rest.”

“That’s not exactly how I remember it,” I snap. He holds up his hands in surrender, and I take a deep breath before continuing, though it does little to calm the raging storm inside me. “I only met him once, before the war. The ‘courting’ you mention was a single ball. A single dance, really. He made his offer to my father that evening.” Hawthorne looks stunned, and I can’t help but laugh at his slack jaw and wide eyes. “There are many different sides to a story, princeling. But this is the truth. He greeted me, we danced, he made an offer to my father, who then asked me if I wanted to accept. I thought on it for a few days for propriety, but I had no interest in marrying a crusty old fae my best friend and I referred to as Mazus the Moldy.”

Hawthorne sprays water out of his mouth as he erupts in a deep belly laugh. After the laughter continues for several more seconds, I can’t help but join in, and soon we’re both leaking tears as we cackle. Then Hawthorne says, “Mazus the Moldy,” and we start the process all over again. I can’t remember the last time I laughed this hard, and for this long, and I have to ignore the tiny voice inside of me that whispers that I like the way our laughs sound together. I’m wheezing by the end, unable to catch my breath from the silent convulsions in my body.

“Witchling, you don’t know what you’ve done. I’m absolutely going to accidentally call him that in some Council meeting one day, and he’s going to murder me on the spot.”

“Maybe that’s my goal,” I say as I bump his shoulder with mine, and he beams.

“So, you met my father once, you said no to his marriage proposal. Was there even any display of uncontrollable magic by you? His so-called reason for launching a war against Thayaria.”