She sighed and slumped in her saddle, feeling defeated. Everyone else had a preset partner for this excursion, someone who loved them. Who wanted them. Before she’d been embarrassed in quick succession by her grandmother and then Johan, she’d been excited by the possibility the day held. A morning alone with Johan, who was weird and full of himself, but whom she actually enjoyed talking to, for some reason. The fantasy that lurked under her eye rolling at his behavior had bobbed to the surface. Maybe he would look at her under the bright summer sun and suddenly see what everyone else seemed to miss: she was a woman, with hopes and dreams and desires. Maybe he’d look at her and fall in love.

Bah.

She wished she could stop dreaming, as her father had demanded. It always made the inevitable disappointment of reality that much worse.

“Sugar Bubble?” Johan’s voice was cajoling. “Maybe this is the result of a lover’s quarrel? I saw you texting and then your mood changed. If you want to talk . . . your confidant is at your service.”

The tightness in her face loosened as her glare shifted into pleased shock. He thought she was upset because of a lovers’ quarrel? He thought she had a lover?

“I don’t mean to pry,” he added quickly. “If you don’t want to talk, I understand, but since we are friends . . .”

He smiled at her then, and though she’d seen hundreds of photos of him over the years, she’d never seen this particular smile. It was tentative and somehow soft, though his stance in his saddle and the way he gripped his reins were not. His gaze was searching.

He wanted to help her.

With her love life.

Her bad mood faded, and a warm happy feeling bloomed in her chest. She tried to find a name for this feeling, that wasn’t infatuation, and she realized it was quite simply the thing she’d been annoyed about to begin with: friendship. This was not the brief romantic fantasy that had played out in her head, but she liked this, too. A shy, smiling Johan offering her his expertise because he wanted to make her happy.

She chuckled and shook her head. “I don’t need to talk, but thank you for offering.”

His horse huffed.

“Look, I accidentally saw that text you got,” he said. “Anyone who would send you a message designed to distract you from your friends is not worth your time. And cherie? Really?”

Text?

Nya bit her lip. Johan had seen her message from the One True Prince game. And now he was offering advice on how to deal with some game writer’s idea of what he would be like to date.

She couldn’t help it—she burst out laughing. Her life was truly ridiculous.

Her horse made a sound of complaint, and she covered her mouth as she composed herself.

“Ah yes,” she said. “Him. He needs to be reassured a lot, but he’s actually very sweet as you get to know him. So I’ve heard.”

“Hmm.” Johan pressed his lips together disapprovingly. “Well, I’m here if you need to discuss anything. Don’t sell yourself short, though. You’re . . .” He looked off into the distance, squinting into the sun. “You deserve someone who adores you, Sugar Bubble. Don’t accept anything less.”

The sun was beating down on them, but that wasn’t what made her cheeks flame. Johan had managed to make her feel like an unwanted castoff and a cherished gift in the space of a morning. She was not the type of woman that men adored, and Johan probably knew that, but he still thought it was what she deserved.

Her hands tightened on her reins.

“Thank you, Phoko,” she said softly. “You’re very nice, you know that?”

“Nice?” His lips pursed dubiously.

She wanted to debate him, but startled as her horse lurched into motion beneath her and began to walk. Nya tightened her thighs as she swayed in the saddle, then glanced at Johan as a startled laugh bubbled up in her.

“It’s working!” she yipped. “Yay!”

He grinned and adjusted his hat like a cowboy in the old Westerns she’d watched with her grandfather.

Friendship, she reminded herself as her breath caught.

“Let’s go catch this goat,” he said. “Our friends’ happiness depends on it.”

“Actually,” she said, cheeks warm again. “Um, this tradition has a specific purpose. Bringing back delicious food for the couple to eat gives them strength in the marriage bed after the wedding feast.”

Johan sputtered out a laugh—he looked almost boyish when he was caught off guard.

“I think my statement stands that their happiness depends on it. Or happy ending at least.” He closed his eyes, feigning solemnity, and placed his hand over his heart. “Far be it from me to leave Thabiso even symbolically undernourished on his wedding night.” He peeked at her from beneath his lashes, a smirk undermining his serious expression. “Let’s go catch us a sex goat.”

Nya laughed, and he laughed, too, their gazes brushing warmly as his horse fell into step beside hers.

GOATS WERE SURPRISINGLY hard to catch. They were stubborn and willful and did not submit easily. After the fourth goat they’d ambled toward—after being given permission from the shepherds—had pranced away, Nya was ready to make one out of sticks and underbrush and call it a day.

Finally, after laughing at their struggles, a group of children left a goat tied up in their path, giggling as they watched from the tall dry grass. They cheered heartily when Nya managed to undo the knot on the rope.