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I grit my teeth and bury my nails into my palm. I shouldn’t lead her into the darkness that hangs over me. I know how that ends. The confusing part is, how does some little thief see me better than Sterling ever did? She got under my skin so quickly…

I’m frustrated with myself, at Esme, and this whole godsdamned situation. I force my breathing to slow, count backward from a hundred, and finally, finally, exhaustion drags me under.

I rouse to dew dampening my cheek and the chirp of songbirds. My second favorite way to wake up. The morning could only improve with the addition of a willing woman in my arms.

The fire is mostly embers, so with a flex of my magic, the ground swallows them to eliminate the risk of stray sparks.

Esme lies curled on her side in the direction of the firepit, one hand pillowing her cheek. Dark hair spills across the shaped earth like she’s posing for a portrait, and I want to brush the loose strands away from her face. Even in sleep, tension grips her shoulders and jaw, and little furrows remain between her eyes.

Is she having a bad dream? A nightmare because of what she witnessed last night in that room?

Or because a foul-mouthed brute abducted her and marched her out of town?

I remind myself that I need to do whatever is necessary to finish my mission. My attraction to Esme can’t factor into my decisions.

“Wake up.” I nudge her shoulder. “Time to move.”

She jerks awake with a gasp, her eyes wide and unfocused for a beat before they lock on me. Recognition floods in, followed by wariness.

Good. She’s smart to be wary.

I extract two bundles of travel food from my pack and toss one at her.

Esme fumbles but catches it against her chest. I tear off a chunk of dried meat from my own bundle, chewing while I wait for her to get herself together.

Ignoring me, she sits up, pulls out a comb from a pocket, and re-braids her hair with quick, efficient motions. Then she leans toward me with a fake smile, stands, and wipes dirt from her clothes.

“Well.” Her voice comes out too bright and casual for her hurried movements. “It was interesting meeting you, Agnar. I wish you well on your journey.”

I almost laugh. The little princess is trying to dismiss me, like this is a chance encounter between strangers, and now, we part ways with a polite nod. “No.”

Her fake expression falters. “What?”

“You’re coming with me. I only untied you so things would be easier, not so you can leave.” I take a bite of my Dragon Blood bread, savoring the sweetness of the dried berries.

She steps back. “I’m not⁠—”

I fold the wrapping around the meat and cheese, tucking it into my pouch. “Don’t make me force you again. You know I can and will.”

Esme’s mouth opens, closes, and opens again before she worries her lower lip with her teeth. All the while, her gaze darts to the trees, the road, and back to me. Wheels spin behind those swirling brown eyes as she tries to find the angle that sets her free. “Where?”

I shoulder my pack and gesture toward the road. “What do you mean? The road right there.”

“Where are you taking me?” She jumps away, careful to stay out of my reach while still doing exactly as I bid.

“Home.” I start walking, stretching my arms out to herd her along like a stray goose.

Stubbornness washes over her features, and she plants her heels, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You can stroll along this beautiful tree-lined path and enjoy the warm morning.” I sweep out my arms and use my size to appear more threatening. “Or I can throw you over my shoulder and carry you. Your choice, princess.”

Reluctantly, she heads toward the trail, which leads from our camp to the main road, her bravado crumbling like yesterday’s oatcake. “Don’t call me that.”

I shoo her along. “Then stop acting like one. I could have you trussed up and over my shoulder before you even finished screaming.”

Esme drops her arms, pivots on her heel, and stalks toward the road with her spine painfully straight. “Where are you really taking me?”

“I told you.” Once on the road, I remain close enough for our shoulders to bump every few strides. Branches sway overhead as the forest slowly wakes around us. Birds call to each other, animals scamper through the underbrush, and insects drone by in lazy circles. I swat a large fly away from my head, suppressing a shiver at the memory of Esme’s beetles in my hair.