Instant irritation rose in him when Duncan declared the prince as his. But it couldn’t matter. Too much time was being wasted with this inane chitchat. Emory needed to find Prince Riffyn. There was most likely nothing at all wrong. He knew he was also upset about the possibility the woman with whom the prince danced out the door could end up being his bride.

No. He wasn’t going to think about that either. He simply needed to make sure the prince was safe.

“You know, you’re exactly right. I had nothing to do with it at all. I have to… um… I need to… go.” He grinned at Duncan and shrugged. Offering no other explanation and hoping Duncan wouldn’t demand one, he took off toward the doors to the garden.

Duncan called out. “Wait!”

But he was certainly not going to stand there and listen to Duncan gush about the prince. He burst through the doors and quickly closed them behind him.

Perusing the area, he found no one.

Where could they be? He listened for them but could hear nothing above the noise of the party going on behind him. Even after he closed the doors, the sounds of the night, like the frogs in the pond off to the east of the castle and the wind that had picked up since the sun went down, made it all but impossible to hear anything specific.

And, of course, there couldn’t be just one path leading off into the garden. No, there were several. One led off to the left, two to the right, and one straight ahead, leaving Emory in a quandary as to which one the prince and princess took. And that was only if they were out here, although logic dictated, due to the actions of the other two princesses, they were. But time had become short and he needed to pick a path.

There was a tingle at the back of his neck and his mind whispered for him to go left.

That had never happened before. Very strange. But left was as good a choice as any. He turned to the left.

Being as quiet as he could, he jogged around a couple of topiaries, a stone bench, and huge empty pots just waiting for the spring flowers that would fill them. That was the other thing. It wasn’t exactly cold out like it had been just a week or so ago, but it wasn’t warm either, and it was odd for the prince to think this was a good idea to take some leisurely walk in the garden.

Rounding the next corner had Emory nearly crashing into the clearing where the prince and princess were standing. Somehow, he was able to stay hidden. He was actually surprised the prince hadn’t heard him, that he hadn’t seen movement out of the corner of his eye, at least something. He knew Riffyn’s alertness and reflexes to be very sharp. But as Emory peered through the branches of the evergreen he was hiding behind, not twenty feet away, he could see neither of them knew he was here with them.

The prince seemed okay. He was smiling like an idiot, though. That was strange, wasn’t it? Maybe not. Because his full attention was on the princess who had just put her arms around his neck and was pulling him down into a kiss. In a single skipped heartbeat, Emory realized Riffyn was returning her kiss. He had wrapped his arms about the woman’s waist and was holding her close, kissing her as if he was already married to her. Emory sunk down to the ground.

What am I doing spying on such an intimate moment? He needed to quit obsessing about the man and let him go about the business of being the crown prince. A chill raced through Emory that cut right through to his bones, one that had nothing to do with the temperature.

Damn.

Emory raised himself up again to study the situation one more time. If nothing was out of the ordinary, he was going to go inside. The prince clearly didn’t need him. Maybe he would grab some more food and escape up to his little room. His head still hurt from earlier, and he honestly could stand to lie down for a while.

They were just talking now. Low. Very close. Emory couldn’t make out many words. “You’re so beautiful” and “You’re so big and strong,” were about it. Emory wanted to gag. Riffyn must have said something funny because she was laughing. Tittering, actually. She sounded more like a tiny, very fake, irritating bird. The prince turned to her and leaned in to kiss her lightly. Seemed he liked her ridiculous little sounds. Emory wanted to throw up.

But then something strange happened. Midkiss the prince jerked back. “What… Ohh! I’m sorry, Princess Kristiel. I have no idea what I…” Riffyn stepped back, touching his own lips and glancing around as if he had no idea where he was. “I have overstepped my bounds, Your Highness, please forgive me. I should never have…”

Emory was confused.

“Riffyn. Relax. It’s fine. I wanted you to kiss me.”

“But…”

At the same time Riffyn was seemingly stumbling back away from the princess, she reached into a small silky purse hanging on her arm, mumbling something Emory didn’t catch. But when she brought her fisted hand out and threw whatever it was she was holding at the prince’s face, Emory raised his hand as well and whispered.

“Stop.” Which, of course, was ridiculous. He had no hope of stopping whatever it was she threw at the prince from all the way back where he was crouching.

But then something else very strange happened.