The Errant Prince Read Online Free Page B

popped loudly, snapping back with enough force to knock him over backward. He stayed where he was, pressing a hand to his chest as his heart damn near tried to jump through his ribs in alarm. He sat up slowly, making a face at Tamsen, who had expected that result if the amused little grin on his face was any indication.
    "You could have warned me," Myron complained, running his hands through his short hair to settle it into place again. "What did I mess up?"
    "You pulled the wrong element of energy to the fore," Tamsen said, still looking far too pleased with himself. "You can make force or light from energy. You pulled force."
    Myron wrinkled his nose. That wasn't very clear, but it wasn't as though he was used to clear instructions when it came to magic. Holding out his hands again, Myron frowned in concentration. He pulled up a small bit of energy again, carefully assessing it and trying to ignore the way Tamsen was watching him closely.
    Two elements: light and force. He'd pushed the energy before, had forced it, so if light was the opposite element, to get light he'd have to do the opposite. The opposite of pushing, forcing it, would be to let it go? Myron let some of the energy go, but it just dissipated back into his skin, sparking briefly as it sank in with a sharp tingle.
    Myron huffed in frustration as he reabsorbed the rest of his energy. He glanced at Tamsen questioningly, absolutely lost.
    "When it sparks, hold it before it dissipates," Tamsen said. "Like locking the animation into a construct."
    Myron pulled out another little bit of energy. Focusing, he let some of it go, trying to lock it in place when it started to spark along his skin. It took a few tries, but it finally caught, bright and steady. Myron turned it over in his hands, giving it more energy to make it brighter. That only made it bigger, and Myron frowned at the little ball of light.
    Pushing the energy back into a smaller space made the light brighten, and Myron played with it for a few minutes, changing its shape, making it duller and brighter. Tamsen watched, a funny look on his face, but he didn't interrupt.
    Myron let the magic dissipate, the sparks of it sinking into his skin with a faint tingle. He looked up and gave Tamsen a smile. "Thank you."
    Tamsen shrugged, climbing to his feet. Myron let him go, not following. Instead, he stayed in the meadow, repeating the light trick until he was positive he had it and could do it with his eyes closed and without holding his hands out in front of him. He collapsed backward into the grass when he was done messing with his magic.
    It would be dark soon. Myron stared up at the sky, wondering again what had made Tamsen leave Rishaw. He knew a little of why the king was searching for Tamsen—besides the obvious of Tamsen being a missing prince, a liability and potential weakness because of it.
    Myron probably had a few weeks, possibly a month or so, before anyone else figured out where Tamsen was. He doubted anyone would miss him, specifically. The regiment of the King's Guard he was attached to worked mostly solo, so as long as he checked in periodically—every few weeks—no one would pay any attention to his not reporting in. That only meant he had time, though he was still no closer to figuring out a way to convince Tamsen to return to the palace with him.
    He certainly wasn't going to learn anything lying about lazily. Myron climbed to his feet, stretching and yawning. He hadn't done anything particularly strenuous, but he was still tired. Making his way back to Tamsen's cottage, he headed around to the back. Tamsen had yet to use the front, past when he'd confronted Myron over his spying construct, and Myron was content to continue that precedent.
    Tamsen was puttering around in the garden near the back door, though he immediately left off when Myron came around the corner. "You can join me for dinner. If you like."
    "I would love to," Myron said, following Tamsen into his cottage. He still