“Aya,” he said slowly, “I care about you. Our friendship—”
She silenced him with a finger on his lips. “Spare me the pity, Rangar. I’m not some lovesick girl who fell for the first man she danced with. You know me—I’ve never been overly emotional. The reality is your Mir princess is a kingdom away. It will be a long time before you see her again, assuming her father even lets you get within a hundred paces of her. You aren’t going to be a saint your entire life. Nor do I wish to be. You can’t deny that there was something between us at the dance.”
Before Rangar could object again, she replaced her finger over his lips with her mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck, and kissed him again.
Chapter7
Trei
The heavy snowfall had kept Trei up late, helping the castle’s woodcutter haul in extra logs for the two monstrous fireplaces at either end of Barendur Hold’s great hall. For most of the cold winter months, the castle’s servants and many townspeople from Barendur Village slept on the great hall’s floor for warmth. They even brought their livestock into the heated space so that now, cattle, sheep, and sleeping bodies covered the floor.
Though Trei shared an upper chamber with his brothers where they had cots and wooden chests for their clothes, they, too, tended to sleep in the great hall during this time of year, in part for the fireplaces’ heat and in part to show solidarity with their people.
When he finally finished with the wood and splashed icy water over his face and hands, most of the castle was asleep. He stepped carefully over the slumbering bodies until he reached the dais near the northern fireplace where his family laid their bedrolls. His father was asleep, but his two brothers’ bedrolls were empty.
Valenden was at the tavern, no doubt, keeping warm with a belly full of ale. But it wasn’t like Rangar to stay out all night.
Trei grabbed his wool bedroll and dragged it into the alcove near the courtyard with the yew tree. He looked back toward the great hall, where a few villagers were still awake chatting, a single musician toyed with his lute, and a few couples had absconded to the room’s shadowy corners and grunted and moaned under blankets.
“There you are.”
He twisted to find Saraj, yawning and wrapped in a blanket, shuffling up to him. She plunked down next to him, leaning her back against the wall. “Do you mean to freeze, sleeping out here practically in the courtyard?”
Her rejection from earlier in the day still stung, but he tried not to show his wounds. “Why are you awake so late?”
“I was waiting for you.” Mischief glittered in her eyes as she pulled a basket of raspberries from under her blanket. “Iborrowedthese for you from the kitchen. Figured you’d be hungry.”
All Trei could think about was the first time he’d caught her stealing when he’d been barely a teenage prince and she a scrappy orphan girl, and he’d spied her pilfering raspberries. Was this why she’d chosen raspberries now? To remind him of their history?
“When I got you the position at the falconry mews,” he said, popping a raspberry in his mouth, “I thought your little habit would come to an end.”
“Stealing?” She gave him a small smile. “Come on, you know that I never take anything valuable.”
“You do it for the thrill.”
She reached up to brush a spot of berry juice off his lip. “Idolike thrills.”
Trei looked off toward the snow falling gently in the uncovered portion of the courtyard. Quietly, he said, “Is that why you don’t wish to marry me? Life with me wouldn’t be enough of a thrill?”
She took her time swallowing down another raspberry and then met his eyes directly. “Maybe. Yes, maybe that is it.”
His chest tightened at yet another rejection, but she rested her hand on his arm. “You’re a good man, Trei. You care about your people. You’ve been up all night hauling in extra wood to keep the villagers and livestock warm—do you think arrogant Prince Mars of the Mirien does that for his subjects?” Her eyelids lowered slightly. “Besides, every girl in his kingdom has a crush on you. They call you the Saint of Stolen Hearts behind your back. I can’t tell you how many jealous looks I get each day.”
By the saints, could she be any more beautiful like this, with the distant firelight warming her face?
“And yet I haven’t stolenyourheart,” he said.
She sorted through the basket of berries but didn’t eat more. Finally, she whispered, “Are you so sure about that?”
A flutter of hope moved in his chest, but he quickly squashed it, unwilling to get his hopes up again.
“Saraj—”
“I love you, Trei.”
He froze. They had never spoken those words aloud, though he felt confident that she knew he’d been in love with her for years. After all, the entire kingdom knew.
He dared to raise his gaze to her face. Her lips were stained with red berry juice. Her green eyes were on fire.
