Ledi ignored the little thrill that sneaked in behind her frustration, like those jerks who rushed through the subway turnstiles with strangers rather than pay. She ignored the fluidity of his walk as he returned, rubbing his hands together, and the way his body was put together so damn well beneath his sweater and jeans. None of that mattered. They’d sleep, get rescued at some point, and then she’d go back to her practicum and he’d go about his royal business. If she held out just a bit longer she’d be done with him for good. That was what she wanted. Totally.

“Does this place have reception?” she asked, pulling out the phone she’d been given.

“No. You’d have to go stand out in the snow,” Thabiso said. “Me and my sparkling wit are your only form of entertainment for the foreseeable future.”

He looked away quickly and she knew he’d had the same thought she’d had. There were many ways he could entertain her . . .

“I wish I had eaten lunch,” she said, suddenly realizing that the prospect of an entire night without food lay ahead of her. Food talk was safer than thinking of the ways Thabiso could keep her preoccupied.

He grinned and dragged his travel pack closer to him, then dug inside and began pulling out aluminum foil–wrapped packets. He glanced up at her, his eyes bright. “You may detest me, but you can never say that I’ve let you go hungry.”

He handed her one, and she tore it open and bit into a savory pastry stuffed with delicately spiced goat. “Oh my god. The goats walking around are cute and everything, but I can’t feel an ounce of guilt about this.”

She tried to eat with some decorum, finishing two pastries, and then making it through about half a serving of spicy rice before wisely cutting herself off. She had no idea how long they’d be in the cave.

“I’ll save these for round two,” Thabiso said, retrieving the unopened packages and placing them back inside his bag. “Nya is an excellent cook. Her mother, your aunt through marriage, passed away when she was born, so she’s always had a lot of responsibility.”

“She told me. And that our mothers were all best friends. How they were all pregnant at the same time.” She kept any comments about the queen’s behavior to her best friend’s child to herself.

Ledi had spread her blanket out on one side of the fire, and Thabiso had done the same on the other. She rolled to her side and looked at him. “Is there a reason why you never replaced me when my family left? Like, with Nya, for example? She understands your people, and she knows what it’s like to have unwanted responsibility.”

Thabiso lay on his back with his hands beneath his head. He shrugged, and she could see his lips purse in thought despite the obstruction of his beard. “It is not wise to second-guess the priestesses,” he said, then turned his head toward her. “Besides, I always hoped you’d come back. I believe in fairy tales, remember?”

He was looking at her with those Disney eyes again, this time with firelight dancing in their depths. The wind howled outside and the flames flickered as the cold air swept through the cave. Ledi remembered the story he’d told about his imaginary soul mate; she’d never forgotten it, but only now did she really connect the fact that he’d been talking about her. While she’d been alone in New York, Thabiso had held out hope. Saving her food, talking to her, keeping her company . . .

I stopped believing for a while there.

Did that mean he’d started believing again?

She’d grown up thinking that she wasn’t wanted anywhere, but there had been a prince a world away who had been waiting for her and had apparently never stopped.

The emotion descended on her like the storm that had driven them into the cave. She held back the tears but she couldn’t hide the way she shook thinking of the fact that he’d waited. He’d waited and wanted, and when she’d never returned, he had come looking for her. It was silly—she was romanticizing things—and yet . . .

“Are you cold?” he asked, his voice low.

Ledi stared into his fire-filled eyes and nodded. She was actually warm; her body had heated under his gaze. She should have said no, she was fine. She had always been fine. But she was tired of always being fine when fine meant alone, so this lie was okay.

She wasn’t cold; she was hungry. Hungry for his touch and his soft smile that let her know she had never been alone. Or rather, that she had been, but he had been alone, too, because maybe Ingoka really didn’t make mistakes, as the locals were fond of saying.

Thabiso eased himself up in one fluid motion and pulled his blanket after him. Ledi felt the puff of air displaced by the blanket as he flopped it onto the ground behind her. She felt his movements as he stretched out, and then scooted closer and closer.

“Is this okay?” he asked when there was a drafty couple of inches left between them.

“You can come closer,” she said.

He did. Slowly.

His knees notched into the space created by hers as they bent. His shins pressed into the boots that covered her calves, and the muscles of his thighs rubbed over her glutes. Each new impression of his body against hers made it harder to breathe, harder to think of anything but how good he’d felt inside of her their one time together. Did it really only have to be once? Her body was presenting a serious rebuttal to that conclusion.

His muscled torso pressed against her back, and then his arms went around her to secure her.