I scowl and fix my gaze on my plate. I am at the end of the table, seated across from Lady Yasson Ru. She is at least ninety years old, and she smells like she hasn’t bathed for the last five. Every word she says to me is a shout, but she is the head of the most wealthy of the Royal Houses.

Luckily, she has an attendant to distract her every time she begins speaking.

Her wrinkled face is frowning. “DOES OUR QUEEN TRULY THINK WE CAN ALLY WITH—”

“Here, my lady,” says her attendant. “Have you sampled the spiced wine?” She thrusts a glass in her face.

Yasson Ru’s wife, Lady Alla Ru, sits beside me, and she’s already asleep.

I have no desire to look at Grey and Nolla Verin again, but my eyes are traitors, and they flick that way anyway. Her hand is on his upper arm now, and she’s whispering something to him, her mouth inches from his neck. Grey is listening to her, but his eyes find mine.

I jerk my gaze away and down my own glass of spiced wine all in one gulp.

Lady Yasson Ru watches me. “YOU SHOULD BE CAUTIOUS WITH DRINKING SO QUICKLY. YOU ARE OF ROYAL—”

“My lady, more bread?” says her attendant.

I give the girl a grateful look.

I only have to survive dessert. When the plate is set before me, a pile of decadent chocolate and whipped frothy topping, I nearly pour it down my throat.

“GOODNESS,” says Lady Yasson Ru. “YOU HAVE QUITE THE APPETITE.”

Beside me, her wife jerks awake. “WHAT, YASSON? HAVE THEY SERVED THE FIRST COURSE?”

I ease my chair back. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Musicians in the corner of the room have begun to play, low drums mixed with stringed instruments combine to make my pulse step up. I slip between guards and guests and aim for the glass doors to the veranda.

No one stops me. No one cares. I am not the queen and Nolla Verin has been named heir, so I am unworthy of much attention at such a gathering. I don’t want to enjoy it—but in a way, the change is nice. Right now I don’t want any eyes on me.

The veranda stretches wide from the side of the castle, jutting out with a view of the dark mountains looming overhead and the moonlit city glittering to my left. Only two torches are lit out here, allowing me a perfect view of the starlit night. The air is too cool to be comfortable, but for now I will enjoy the solitude. At least, until more wine has been poured and inebriated guests begin spilling onto the veranda.

I am feeling the first effects of that spiced wine. Not enough to offer any bravery or social ease, but enough to turn my thoughts a bit free in my head.

I wonder what Nolla Verin said to make him laugh.

With a sigh, I sink into a cushioned chair. Then I pull my book free and begin to read, ever grateful for stories about other people and their adventures.

“What are you reading?”

I jump so hard I nearly fall off the chair. The book goes flying.

Grey snatches it out of the air. The ghost of a smile finds his lips. “Forgive me.” He holds the book out.

I lurch to my feet and take it. I try to smooth down my robes and my hair, grateful for the warm shadows that will hide any blush on my cheeks. “I am glad you were not an assassin.”

“Indeed.” He casts a glance around the empty veranda. “You should have guards.”

“For what purpose? No one here would have anything to gain from my death.” He frowns at that, but I say, “And what of your guards, Your Highness?”

He smiles. “We have come to an understanding.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I do not need to beg for privacy.” He pauses, and any amusement slips from his face. “I am unused to being the center of attention.”

“You looked as though you were enjoying yourself at dinner.” I sound snippy and jealous, and I wish I could suck the words back into my mouth.

Grey studies me, and I know he’s noticed. He notices everything. “I am glad I gave that impression.” He pauses. “If I am disturbing you, I can return.”

There does not seem to be a safe answer to that.

No, I do not want you to return. I want you to stay here with me in the moonlight, where I can pretend we are sitting among the trees again, no mothers or sisters or alliances between us.

I swallow. Grey’s eyes, so dark in the night air, have not left mine.

“Or perhaps I could join you?” he says.

I nod, because I do not trust my voice. I do not ease back into my chair, however. Standing feels safer than sitting. Cool wind rushes down from the mountain to slip through my robes and make me shiver and think of Iisak, trapped in the dungeons.

Grey unbuckles his jacket and slips his arms free, then extends it to me.

I blink at him. “What are you doing?”

“If you are cold. Is it not a custom for men to offer a lady a jacket?”

I frown and square my shoulders. “It would be considered impolite to acknowledge a weakness.”

“How is being cold a weakness?”

Wind slips across my neck again. I am unsure how to proceed. Wearing an article of his clothing feels very intimate, very much like something I should not do.

I inhale and want to take the coat so very badly.

He waits, reading my silence, then adjusts his grip on the jacket, holding it between two hands. “May I?”

I swallow, then nod, then close my eyes as he slips it around my shoulders. The leather and silk are warm from his body, the jacket heavy across my back.

“Thank you,” I say.

His fingers, feather-light, brush against my chin, tilting my face up. I inhale sharply and open my eyes.

“You are far from weak, Lia Mara.”

I smile slightly. “Carrying that buck nearly killed me.”

“I am not talking about the buck.” He pauses. “I am speaking of the moment in Blind Hollow, when you should have run for safety, but you began helping the injured. I am speaking of that moment when you offered me sanctuary, when you could have been miles away on horseback, long before dawn. I am speaking of every moment and every step of our journey here.” His voice lowers. Softens. “I am speaking of that moment when Iisak tore my arm open and you took my hand.”

He’s so still that he might be a shadow, a whisper of imagination. If I did not have the warm weight of his jacket on my shoulders or the faint gleam of his eyes, I would not believe this was happening. I am very aware of my breathing, of his breathing. Music escapes through the doorway to invade our tiny cocoon of silence.

“Are you drunk again?” I whisper.

He laughs, and that’s such a rare thing that it makes my heart skip. “Quite sober, I assure you.”

I swallow. “You should be inside,” I say. “You should be with Nolla Verin.”

He does not move. “Why did you run from the party?”

“I did not run. I was not needed.”

His eyebrows draw together. “Since the moment we arrived here, you have hidden yourself from me. I do not understand why.”

“My sister—”

“This is not about your sister,” he growls.

“But it is about my sister,” I insist. “Do you understand? She is the chosen heir now. The favored daughter. You ask why I would leave the party, as if I have any place there. My goals do not align with theirs. What do I have to offer?” I spread my hands wide and turn, indicating the wide expanse of air surrounding us. “I am alone on this veranda because I have nothing. Nothing! I have no throne, no crown, no country, no—”