“Since you have the means to travel across the desert,” I tell her, “go across the bridge to Alba. A general by the name of Marcus and a handful of Loegria’s finest are likely securing the town and waiting for me there. If you need anything, tell them I sent you.” I twist one of the buttons of my coat until the frayed thread gives way. I drop the button into her open hand. “He’ll recognize this.”
Katharine closes her fist and smiles inscrutably. “I appreciate the fine offer, cousin.” She insists on telling the other villagers that Aren and I are merely hapless explorers in need of help. Even if the people don’t believe the lie, no one challenges her.
Aren leaves to go to the women’s baths and I to the men’s, where the cool waters soothe my skin. Travel, and the harsh conditions of the Waste, have taken a toll on my body. I hope Aren has fared better, and I worry about the toll this journey must be taking on her mind, as it has mine.
I think about Marcus and Jared. I know how much I asked of them, two men trained for leadership and war. But Aren? She’s gone the farthest and the longest, and my stomach hollows out when I think about the many injuries that must now scar her body, too.
She’s a civilian, a barmaid who deserves to be a princess. I feel unbearably selfish for asking her to do any of this, but especially now that we’re heading to such a dangerous, dreaded city.
When I return, dressed in clean clothes, my mind is made up.
“Don’t you dare,” Aren says as if she’s read my mind.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t try to leave me here, or send me away again, or whatever bullshit you’re thinking this time.”
“You know what I’m thinking?” I ask, a glimmer of a smile on my lips. She’s wonderfully annoyed with me again, and the fire in her eyes makes me want to cheer.
She huffs and blows at a lock of hair that’s fallen across her face. Then she haughtily lifts her chin, puffs out her chest, and deepens her voice to do her best impression of me. “‘Don’t come with me to Engel. You won’t be safe.You, a weak woman, should go back home and let me, a big, strong man, handle it.’” Her eyes narrow. “Well, face it, mister. We’re in this together.”
“I could order you to go,” I rumble. “You are, after all, my subject.”
“According to the unification treaty, I’m really not until you marry an Alarician girl. And”—she holds up her left hand gasps in feigned surprise—“I don’t see a ring.”
For a moment, all I want to do is to get on one knee and offer her my mother’s opal ring. There’s a yearning in me to prove my troth, to make our pretend engagement real. I wonder if it would make her nicer to me.
Probably not.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
That kiss at the temple felt so real. The memory makes me want to relive the moment now, to see if it feels just as authentic.
“Hey, if you want to foolishly put your life in danger, I can’t stop you,” I say, holding up my hands in surrender.
She crosses her arms and smirks. “Exactly.”
“That isn’t the victory you think it is,” I reply.
“What else could possibly happen?” she asks airily. “We’ve already been robbed by bandits, hunted by raiders, attacked by Kilandrar, almost died from dehydration—I think things are looking up from here.”
She looks so fierce and fearless in this moment, I need to kiss her again. Now.
“What?” she snaps, and I realize I’ve been staring at her mouth for longer than is normal. “Do I have something in my teeth?”
I cough. “No…”
“Oh,” she says, her voice suddenly low and husky. “Because I thought…”
I lean forward. “You thought?”
She looks deep into my eyes, and I lean in even closer. I can see every freckle on her nose and cheeks, the dimple when she smiles. I close my eyes, and our lips meet. Her mouth is as warm and inviting as I remember, despite the dry desert heat. I put my arms around her, can feel her fingers digging into my shoulders. I run my hands down her back, then lower still to cup her—
Someone behind me clears their throat.
“Oh!” Aren jumps back, blushing furiously. “Katharine!”
Damn.
