All morning the girl had been in a stew, gouging wax from the tablet instead of changing the tense of the verbs in the Old Anglish poem. She’d not answered entreaties as to what was the matter; perhaps she would reply to Miss Gallivere’s. Arvana let the girls twitter while she worked out a harmony part for the duet. There was a knock. The girls fell silent and stared apprehensively at the door. Was it Chane, returned to claim the Blue Eye? No, it couldn’t be him. He’d enter without knocking and Jesquin wouldn’t dread seeing him. Arvana opened the door to find Prince Fassal pacing in the hall while his redcoat escort maintained soldierly composure. The prince strode to her. “Hera, is the princess here?” There was something frantic, and yet dejected, in his voice. So he was the reason for the princess’s distraction. They might as well resolve whatever issue was between them now, or the rest of the day was sure to be a waste of a lesson plan.
