Page 17 of Jon’s Desert Prince Dream

“Holy shit,” I breathed, stunned. “No wonder you and Borrowman acted like Oswald was attacking a friend.”

“She’s a friend of the nation, in a sense. I don’t know her well, personally, but she’s always the first to help if something goes wrong. I adore her for it. She’s saved many, many people because of her ability.” Prince Donovan speared a piece of watermelon, grinning. “Hearing her daughter is just like her? Ahh, this day can’t get any better.”

I bet he was happy to hear that. “So when William said his father was breaking massive laws trying to take him back, is that because William is Alladora’s anchor?”

“Correct.”

“Was he part of that thing? The flash flooding?”

“He was, in fact. They’d just started dating when it hit, I think. He’s also a workhorse and not one to quit when things need to happen.”

I absorbed this information. So really, Oswald had run across several blockades. He’d tried to break apart an anchor and psychic, he’d insulted a national heroine, and he’d insulted psychics in general, which this culture had no tolerance for. Wow, yeah, I didn’t know how he could have done a worse job. Not only was he likely banned from this country for life after this point, if he ever showed up again, it’d likely lead to his funeral.

Couldn’t say I was too broken up over the thought.

Prince Donovan asked simply, “What do you want to do next?”

“Show me the city.” I wanted to get a better sense of the place since I’d live here. “And on the way back to the palace, I want to stop by Garrett’s store again.”

“That’s fine. For what?”

“Stationery, to start with, so I can write my sister.” As well as a few other things.

I was not getting caught without oil again, let’s just say that.

6

After touring the city, we returned to the palace in a hustle just as the sun was setting. We needed to dress for dinner, as it was imperative Jon attend. I had a feeling he was the piece needed to turn diplomacy on its head. Or at least knock the sails completely askew for a certain ambassador.

Anyway, we retreated to my rooms, quickly rinsed off the desert sand, and changed into something more formal. With nights cooling quickly, most formal outfits were a secondary, heavier shawl or robe worn over the lighter layer. These could be incredibly elaborate, depending on the skill of the artisan who made it.

Now, normally, I wore a more basic overcoat, something with a very geometric trim, embroidered with gold thread. I wasn’t a very fancy man, as my mother put it, as I liked things streamlined in appearance. It was partially why I’d surprised myself when I’d chosen an outfit for Jon, as I had picked something incredibly different from my own tastes.

Still, when I watched the maid shake out the shawl and put it around him, I knew my instincts had been correct. It had been the perfect choice.

The shawl was a deep cobalt blue, one of the richest colors my people could dye. In antique gold and silver, embroidery covered the hemline in a thick three-set inlay, the pattern complex, with elaborate knotwork. With it draped over one shoulder, it hung nearly to his knees on the right side, and then swept around his back so that it lay over his right arm and hung even lower, nearly to his ankle. The longer the shawl or robe, the more expensive it was, as of course that was a lot of dye, material, and work. Only those who were incredibly wealthy or a prince of this nation could afford such a shawl.

I may have splurged. A little.

I couldn’t regret it as it brought out the fairness of his skin and the depth of those blue eyes, making an already beautiful man seem ethereal. If he’d actually started glowing from the divine power within him, it would have only completed the picture and not surprised me a whit.

Jon seemed poleaxed by it, lifting both arms to look the shawl over, his eyes wide with incredulity. Maybe wonder. He’d probably never seen the like, considering blue dye wasn’t something his countrymen could easily lay hands on.

“When,” he finally managed, sounding somewhat strangled, “did you do this?”

“I actually bought it yesterday for the banquet last night,” I admitted easily, shrugging. “I’m so glad I bought it. It’s stunning on you.”

“Truly, Psychic Jon,” the maid seconded, beaming. “You look exquisite.”

“Thank you, Lila.” Jon managed a smile at her.

I extended a hand. “Shall we go?”

“Oh, we should, yes.”

We left my rooms and I guided him deeper into the palace. The banquet hall was dead center, as it was part of the original building, so it took a while to get there no matter where you started from. It also faced the cliff out back of the palace, giving a stunning view of the ocean. I suspected it was why the location for the palace had been chosen to begin with.

Jon cleared his throat a little. “So what are you planning on doing tonight and why am I the lynchpin?”