“Brave girl,” he says.

No one has ever called me brave. They’ve called me clever. Sturdy. Studious. Kind.

Never brave. My heart thrums in my chest.

In the distance, the sky rumbles. Iisak’s wings ruffle, and he looks up. “The air promises rain soon.”

Grey’s hand drops. “How soon?”

“Within the hour, I would think.”

My heart won’t stop racing, but Grey gathers the cards. “Wake Jake and fetch Tycho. We’ll need to find shelter.”

The rain pours down before we’re ready, darkening everyone’s mood. The mountains tower to our left, hulking and black in the midnight darkness. My heart trips and stumbles at the sight.

Home. Home is on the other side. I might be in my own bed tomorrow night, surrounded by plush blankets and stacks of books and all the warm tea I can drink.

And Grey, who will likely be thrust at my sister. Thrust into accepting his birthright.

I’ll be thrust into the shadows while more important people do more important things.

The thought stings, and I shove it away.

We ride into the hills, water soaking into our clothes. The tack turns slippery, and the horses skid in the mud, but our persistence is rewarded: we find a cave. It’s not very deep, but it’s wide enough that we can tether the horses out of the rain and build a fire to warm ourselves. I have fresh clothes from Blind Hollow in my pack, and though they’re a tiny bit damp from where water breached the leather stitching, the leggings and blouson are a far sight better than drenched skirts. I strip out of my boots, leave the men by the fire, and move to the other side of the horses to change.

Once I’m done, I spare a quick glance over to see if they’re finished as well. Grey’s back is to me, and he’s changed into clean dark pants, but he’s still shirtless. The sight steals my breath and stops my heart. More than half a dozen scars bisect the muscles across his shoulders, thick dark lines marring the perfection of his skin.

I saw it happen, and it was terrible.

Seeing the aftermath is terrible.

Grey begins to turn, as if sensing my gaze, and I busy myself with adjusting the horse’s tether. When I look up again, he’s fully dressed, and he’s crossed half the cave to reach me.

I swallow and wonder if he noticed me staring. I’m not sure what to say. Either the rain or the time in the cooler air has sobered him, because his eyes are clearer and sharper than they were by the fire.

I clear my throat. “Forgive me,” I say. “I was—I was looking to see if you were done.”

“I am.” He puts a hand on the neck of the horse beside me, rubbing beneath its mane. He’s so gentle with animals that it always takes me by surprise. Nolla Verin will like that about him, I think.

My throat is tight again.

“We will reach Syhl Shallow tomorrow,” he says softly. “I would like to ride out before sunrise. The rain should give us a cover and allow us to reach the mountain pass unseen.”

I nod, because I have no idea what my voice will sound like.

“What kind of force will we encounter on your side?”

It takes me a moment to parse out the question. He did not approach me for quiet conversation; he is seeking military strategy. Any emotion between us is locked in my thoughts, not his. I clear my throat and look away.

“We … we have soldiers stationed at the pass.” I have to clear my throat again. “They should recognize me, but they will likely hold us at the guard station until someone can come from the palace to retrieve us.” My mother will not have me riding through the streets looking like a rat pulled from a gutter.

His eyes trace my face. “Thank you.”

He looks like he’s about to turn away, so I clear my throat. “Grey.”

He waits. “My lady?”

I’m not sure what I want from him, but I don’t want this moment to end. I want to sit by the fire and teach him Syssalah. I want to touch his lips and whisper secrets in the dark. I want to step into him, to press my face against his chest and listen to his heartbeat. I want to trace the scars on his back and tell him how he did not deserve one single mark.

My face must be on fire.

Brave girl.

I’m not brave at all. I can’t do any of that.

He touches a finger to my chin. “You should sleep. Home awaits you.”

I swallow. “I don’t want to sleep.”

“I don’t either.”

His hand lingers against my face, and I shiver.

“Are you cold?” he says. “Come sit with me by the fire.”

I shouldn’t. We are so close to Syhl Shallow, and I have one chance to prove to my mother that I have something to offer. But Grey takes my hand and pulls me forward, and it’s like he’s taken hold of my heart.

When we sit, we’re both cross-legged, his knee brushing against mine. I’m very aware of the contact, and I long to move closer, to feel more of his warmth instead of the fire’s. I put my hands in my lap and keep my eyes on the flames as Noah and Jake unroll blankets for sleeping. Tycho is already half asleep on the other side of the fire.

When Grey stands, I look up in surprise, wondering if he’s changed his mind. He must read the dismay on my face, because he offers half a smile. “I’m just getting some food,” he says softly.

When he returns, he has cheese and dried beef, along with a water skin.

The dried beef reminds me of Parrish and Sorra on our last night together, and I turn it over in my hands.

“You seem sad,” Grey says.

I glance up. “I was thinking of my guards.”

“You were close,” he says.

“Yes.” I swallow past a lump in my throat. “It was my fault Sorra died.”

“If she died keeping you safe, I believe she would see it as a great honor.”

“Would you have considered it a great honor to die for the prince?”

“When I was a guardsman? Yes.”

He truly believes that. I can hear it in his voice. “And now?”

He tears a piece of meat in half. “I knew what he would do when he found out what I was. I keep wondering if I should have just told him that first day, when I was dragged back to the castle. I wonder if things would have turned out differently.”

“I think you made the right decision.” I have to swipe a tear off my cheek. “I should never have tried to bargain with Rhen. I don’t know why I thought he would be honorable.”

“He can be.” Grey pauses. “He cares greatly for his people. He was raised to be a king.”

“I care greatly for my people, and I was raised to be a queen.” I wipe my eyes. “That doesn’t mean I should be.”

He reaches out to capture a drop with his thumb, his hand lingering on my face. “I do not know your sister, but she must be impressive indeed for your mother to choose her over you.”

I think of Nolla Verin and wonder if she is thinking of me. “She is,” I whisper. “She will make a great queen.” Another tear spills, but Grey is quick to catch it. His hand is against my cheek now. My heart flutters wildly in my chest.

“You would make a great queen,” he says. “I have no doubt.”

I put my hand over his. My eyes fill again. “And you would make a great king.”