Thane exhales, rolling his shoulders like this conversation is weight he’s already braced for. “They happen to be passing by the outpost, returning to their lands. So they’re stopping here for a few nights.”
I tip my head back against the wall, spinning the water jug between my hands. “Convenient.”
“For them or for me?” His tone is dry.
I smirk. “You.”
His lips twitch, but whatever amusement he might have had is gone a moment later. He turns his gaze forward, watching the warriors still sparring across the room. “I’d like for them to meet you.”
I lower the jug mid-spin, frowning. “Why?”
His eyes flick back to me. “We’re getting close to the time we have to introduce you to the rest of the realm.”
The words settle between us—heavy, inevitable. We all knew this moment was coming. But hearing it aloud—hearing Thane name it like it’s just another battle—makes it real.
And standing now, it hits me: I was just starting to get used to this different life.
I fold forward, grasping my ankles, stretching until the burn catches along my thighs. “And the Hales are the first step?”
“They’re an important one,” Thane says simply. “Toren commands a strong hold on the border. And Evelyne . . . ” Thane exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “Every time I’ve met with Toren at the capital, she’s never exactly hidden her ambitions.”
He doesn’t elaborate. Doesn’t need to. His tone is even, but there’s a sharpness in it—like a nuisance he’s long since stopped fighting.
I blink, then smirk. “Poor Warlord. Must be exhausting—being noticed.”
Thane cuts me a look, half-amused, half-exasperated. “You have no idea.”
I take a slow sip of water, considering him over the rim of my jug. “And yet, here you are, suffering through it.”
His brow lifts slightly. “Some burdens are heavier than others.”
I hum, tilting my head. “Oh? And where does Lady Evelynerank among your many great burdens?”
Thane exhales, a short breath through his nose. “Somewhere between council meetings and Garrick’s snoring.”
“Truly—how do you survive with so many responsibilities?” I ask, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I don’t know,” he muses, a dry edge to his voice. “Yet, somehow, I endure.”
I grin, stretching out my sore arms. “Well, you do have quite the reputation. I imagine Lady Evelyne isn’t the only one taking notice.”
His smirk doesn’t falter, but there’s a slight, almost imperceptible shift in his expression. “Is that so?”
I nod, all mock wisdom. “Oh, definitely. The brooding warlord? The ruthless fighter? Muscles for days and a dragon to match? I’m sure half the noblewomen at court are just dying for you to glance their way.”
Thane huffs, shaking his head. “If they are, I must be very disappointing to them.”
I purse my lips, mock thoughtful. “Or maybe you enjoy the suffering. Adds to the whole mysterious, tormented warlord thing.”
He exhales, tilting his head toward me. “You think that helps?”
Lifting a brow, I say, “I think it doesn’t hurt.”
His gaze lingers—not unreadable, exactly, but shielded. Something he doesn’t say. “No, Amara. It definitely hurts.”
I shake my head, pushing to my feet before he can see the warmth creeping up my neck. “Come on, Warlord. Let’s get this over with.”
Thane doesn’t move right away. His gaze flickers over me, something shifting—quiet, considering. Then it’s gone—buried beneath that familiar smirk.
