Safe? Thabiso’s thighs pressed into her hips, his strong arms caged her as he held the reins, and his body heat inscribed warm memories of their night together into the skin of her back. There was nothing safe about that. She’d spent the entire ride ashamed at the way she wanted to push her ass back into him, to feel the length of him grow against her, like he wasn’t a man who’d betrayed her.

She arched her back away from Thabiso and sucked in a breath of air so cold that she thought she might be able to feel each individual bronchiole as it froze. She focused on that instead of how her body protested being separated from his. “You could have found your own donkey,” she said.

“I could have,” he said, leaning forward just enough to close the space she’d created between them without pressing himself against her. “I think you would find the trip much colder without me here at your back. Sorry, but you’re stuck with me.”

Her breath caught at his words and she wished she had never let her silly Velcro hang-up slip. He couldn’t be telling the truth. She had years and years of evidence to back her up—people might give her a try, but in the end, she was not the kind of person anyone kept around.

“I really hate having people behind me, actually,” she bit out. “Especially people I can’t trust.” She needed to remind herself of why she couldn’t just relax against him. Why she couldn’t believe it when he said that maybe they could have something more.

She felt the expansion of his chest as he sighed. “Well, I watch the backs of people I care about, whether they trust me to or not. It’s a princely requirement, though my wanting to protect you has nothing to do with my job. That’s one thing we should be clear on.”

“Oh, now you want to be clear?” she snapped. That wasn’t entirely fair, though. He’d been trying to clarify things ever since she’d discovered the truth. And before that. She remembered that day in Fort Tryon Park, and that night, and how many times he’d tried to tell her before the gala.

His arms tightened against her sides a bit as he leaned closer to her ear.

“Yes. I want to be clear now. I should have been honest with you sooner, but I was frightened of losing you. I believe this is called irony.” She felt a laugh rumble through his chest, but could tell it wasn’t a happy one. “Even if you never forgive me, even if you leave Thesolo and don’t look back, know that I will regret hurting you for the rest of my days. And, I’m sure you already know this from your research, but Thesoloians have quite a long life span.”

She told herself that it was the cold wind that was making her eyes water. Why did it seem like the more determined she was to keep him at arm’s length, the easier it was for his words to affect her? And his touch, too?

“Thabiso—”

“The town is just around the bend,” one of the herdsmen called out.

They made a sharp turn and the rocky cliff face gave way to a sprawling town like something out of a nativity scene. Most of the snow-dusted houses appeared to be traditional Thesoloian huts like the ones she’d read about during her research—round structures with thatch roofs—but as they drew closer, Naledi realized they were made of concrete, not clay, and painted brown. The thatch was real, but it had to cover some other structure judging from the weight of the satellite dishes and solar panels that rested on each house. They looked like large, fancy yurts, and Ledi half expected to see a crew from the House & Home channel filming a segment.

In the distance, larger, less traditional houses loomed—Victorians, Georgians, and a couple of blocky condominiums.

Snow had been packed down and worn away on the cobblestones beneath D’artagnan’s hooves, but the sidewalks were completely clear. They were also steaming.

“Is this mountain a volcano?” she asked. “Because with the luck I’ve been having, it might be better for everyone if I left.”

Thabiso chuckled.

“There are heated coils in the sidewalks that melt the snow,” he said. “The meltwater is collected in drains and used to heat homes, so people no longer have to use wood or coal. Energy efficient and good for the atmosphere, although not ideal when the livestock decide to stray from the street.”

“That’s impressive,” Ledi said. “Is every town this advanced?”

“Not yet. Lek Hemane was the site of our pilot project because they receive the most snowfall, but we hope to expand the project soon. It had been put on hold when the Omega Corp deal was in play.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because there was no use investing in a town where the people would be uprooted and the infrastructure razed.”

“Oh.” A frisson of foreboding went down her spine. “I imagine that would have been a hard choice to make.”

“Unfortunately, it came quite easily to some.”

She remembered his talk of the finance ministers and how they were upset about the deal he hadn’t agreed to. Making large-scale decisions like this must have been the equivalent of a group assignment with some major assholes, but where the fate of a country rested on it instead of a grade.

“You made the right choice,” she said, and felt him stiffen behind her. “I give you a lot of shit, but you do seem to have the well-being of your people in mind. I can’t say the same of most people in power.”