There’s a part of me that wants to go back and get the whole army. “I don’t want to show up looking ready to wage war. It’s supposed to be a wedding proposal.”
He glances my way and gives me a once-over. “Oh, so that’s why you’re back here with a dozen weapons strapped to your armor. You’re prepared to beromantic.”
“Forget what I said. I liked it better when you were quiet.”
He laughs.
But then a shadow flickers across the snow somewhere in the distance, and his laughter cuts short. He has a bow tethered behind his saddle, but he unstraps it now. Mine is already in hand.
Whatever moved has disappeared—or gone still—and we see nothing further. I don’t put away my bow, though.
Sev doesn’t either.
I wonder again about traps. Was something planted in the snow? Could that man have been sent out to delay us?
I shake off the questions. We’re not at war. This is a journey toward peace.
It still doesn’t feel like it. “How much farther, do you think?” I say, keeping my voice low.
“To Perriden? Less than five miles, I’d say. But at this pace it’ll take another hour.” He glances at the hint of sunlight along the horizon. “How serious do you think they were about you showing up at dawn?”
Very serious, and knowing Prince Dane, he’ll take any delay as the highest of insults. We’ll spend an hour trading barbs about it, and then he’ll threaten to unravel the entire alliance unless I yield somethingelse.
But another hour feels interminable, especially with threats hiding in the darkness and men at my back who are already freezing and frustrated.
No one has complained, but they’re my best soldiers. They won’t.
I sigh and consider the horses, the snow, the way we’re sitting ducks out here in the darkness—and how very deliberate that is.
Then I consider the way Prince Dane didn’t even realize who I was on the day we met, how they’re surely expecting the king to arrive instyle, with a full retinue of servants and courtiers and guards, despite everything he knows about me.
Maybe it’s better if theythinkwe’re late—without me being late at all.
I draw my horse out of the line and ride parallel to the others. “Nikko,” I say to the soldier behind Sev. “Hold the line.” I nod at the carriages. “Keep protecting the ‘king.’ Sev and I will ride ahead.”
Nikko gives me a nod, but Sev looks at me like I’m insane.
“They’ll think we’re heralds,” he says. “Or outriders. You’rethe king, Ky.”
I roll my eyes and tether my bow. “I know who I am. But they won’t. This will give us a few minutes to determine whether Prince Dane is genuine—or if this is a trap.”
He still balks. “Atrap? Then you stay. I’ll take Roman and—”
“Are you coming or not?” I say. Sunlight begins to crawl over the horizon, so I don’t wait for an answer; I just touch my heels to my horse’s sides.
If this is a trap, I don’t need Astranza’s fire to protect my people. I can start my own.
Chapter Four
The Princess
When we snuck through the palace as children, Asher and I never really worried about getting caught. No one would punish a princess, and Asher’s mother was the queen’s first lady-in-waiting. It’s very possible that we weren’t fooling anyone, and the actual staff simply endured our antics because of who we were. But it felt powerful, like by changing our clothes we could also change our skins, becoming someone else entirely. When we were teenagers, we learned to be stealthier, but it wouldn’t have been a huge scandal if we were caught.
If I’m caught dressed as a maid on the morning Maddox Kyronan is due to arrive, it would absolutely be a scandal.
When I slip out of my bedchambers in the stolen uniform, the halls are quiet and dark—and cold. Soft voices echo from somewhere nearby, so I scurry away from my door, keeping my head down.
It’s early enough that few people are out and about, and it helps that the lack of torches and lanterns keeps the hallsverydark. When I pass a footman in crisp livery, I keep my eyes on the floor, but he doesn’t glance in my direction. I chance a look up, but I can barely make out his features in the shadows.
