Grey rides forward and pulls a small bag from a pouch at his waist. “Here. Twenty-five coppers. Can you spend that?”

The man blinks. “Yes—but—”

Grey tosses him the bag.

The man’s hand is occupied with the food, and I’m worried the coins are going to sail right into the mud, but he’s more agile than I expect. He snatches the pouch out of the air with the same hand that’s holding the food.

He offers a clumsy bow. “You have my thanks. Your Highness. My lady.” Then he backs away to climb into his wagon.

He’s barely seated before he’s clucking to his horses, driving them down the hill.

I wish I could follow right behind him. The weight of Rhen’s gaze is almost painful. His expression is full of disapproval and his tone matches. “The longer I know you, the less I see your acts as those of bravery. Did you forget the attack from last night?”

“Did you forget your people are suffering?”

His jaw tightens. “You speak of things you do not know.”

“I think I’ve seen enough.”

His expression darkens like thunderclouds rolling over a summer sky. He says nothing.

Grey speaks into the silence. “You mentioned that you are not a prisoner. Does that mean this is not an attempt to escape?”

“Of course not.” I pat a saddlebag. “I’m bringing food to Freya and her kids.”

“You’re bringing food,” Rhen echoes. “To the inn.”

“It seemed like they were already short and we dumped five more people on them.”

He looks incredulous. “But why would you not ask?”

I draw back and stare at him. “Ask? Are you kidding me? When you’ve got a kitchen full of food that’s going to be replaced every day—”

“You misunderstand.” He puts a hand up. “Why would you not ask for assistance?”

Oh.

“I didn’t think you’d do it,” I say quietly.

He stares back at me. I wonder if he’s going to ask why.

Looking at his expression, at the trace of resignation that flickers in his eyes, I don’t think he needs to.

“Very well,” he says finally. He turns his horse away.

“You’re letting me go?” I might fall off this horse in shock.

“I’m escorting you to the inn,” he says, as if I was too stupid to figure it out. “Unless you have changed your mind?”

I sigh and turn my horse to follow.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

RHEN

I’m used to loneliness. Despair. Sorrow. Disappointment.

I’m not used to fear, at least not this kind. I have never met someone so reckless.

She is not the first girl to run, or to fear me, or to question my motives. She is the first girl to force me into situations requiring armor and weaponry.

We walk in silence, Grey riding behind, waiting at the crest of the hill as we descend into the valley. Her words keep piercing me. Did you forget your people are suffering?

“I did not forget,” I say to her.

It’s been a while since we’ve spoken, but she needs no clarification. “Well, you don’t do much to fix the situation.”

“One day in Emberfall, and you know so much about my failures. I suppose you believe you are doing a good thing, visiting a mercy on suffering people?”

Her eyes are icy, but I can tell that she does think this.

I shake my head. “Even if we empty the castle of food at every meal, every single day, it would not feed all of my subjects.”

Her voice is quiet. “It would feed some of them, Rhen.”

“Yes, but not all.” I look over at her. “How would you choose?”

Frustration is painted all over her face. “Why would I have to choose?”

“Why would you not? The people of Emberfall fear Ironrose. They believe a monstrous creature sleeps on the ramparts, waiting for an opportunity to destroy them if they approach. My people will not willingly come to me. And even if I were to hire a wagon to take everything I have, how would you determine the most needful?”

“I—”

“And before you answer that,” I press on, “what would you say to those for whom you could not provide? Imagine we arrive at the inn, and there are half a dozen more guests. What you’ve packed into your saddlebags will not feed them all. What will you say then?”

“I’ll go back and get more.”

Silver hell, she is so stubborn. “Say you were to visit every day with a bounty of food. Word would spread. People would line up. There would be small skirmishes among the people, gradually riots would form—”

“I think you’ve made your point.”

“Fighting would ensue, and with no enforcers to quell the violence—”

“Okay, I get it!” Her cheeks are red, her breathing quick. “I don’t care. I’m still bringing them something. It’s better than nothing.”

“Is it?” I say. “Are you certain, my lady?” I reach out to grab her reins and pull both our horses to a halt.

She whips her head around to glare at me, tussling for control of the reins. Her eyes are hot with anger. “Let me go.”

I keep my voice even. “You know I do not mind honesty and civil discourse. I would hope I have made that clear. But I will not tolerate bald-faced disrespect.”

“But it’s acceptable to disrespect me?”

Her horse—my horse, in truth, though she seems to have no hesitation in claiming him for her own—tosses his head and stomps in the slush, but I keep a tight hold on the reins. Her skill at firing me up and beating me down is truly admirable.

“I have asked you to examine the ramifications of your actions,” I say tightly. “If you see that as disrespect, you are mistaken.”

“Fine.” She looks away.

I draw a short breath. “There are reasons I have confined myself to the castle for so long. If you force me to interact with my people, you must be aware of what that means for—”

“No one is forcing you to do anything. Now let me go.”

I take a moment to gather my mettle, then cast my gaze to the sky. Of course my final chance would be a girl determined to undermine me and create new obstacles at every turn. Every step forward seems destined to end in two steps back.

“Now, Rhen. I’m not one of your subjects. You’re not my prince.”

My voice is very low. “I may not be your prince, but you are in my kingdom. Not your own.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“You have no comprehension of the tenuous control I have here. You have no consideration for what I have done to provide for the safety of my kingdom.” My jaw is tight, lending ice to coat my words. There was a time when this tone in my voice meant people would scurry. The same tone in my father’s voice meant people would die. Yet she stares at me defiantly, and it takes every ounce of self-control for me to keep my voice level. “You speak to me with contempt and disregard, as though I do not feel the weight of what my people endure. You speak as though you rule over me. I will remind you of our roles here.”

“What, kidnapper and kidnappee?”

I raise my eyebrows. “You wish those to be our roles? Fine.” I turn my head. “Commander!”

“What are you doing? Rhen, let me go.” She tries to pry my hand off the reins. She must be digging her heels in, because Ironwill dances at the end of the reins and fights my grip. “Let me go—”

“My lord.” Grey’s horse skids to a stop beside Harper, spraying slush and blowing steam in the air.

“Return Lady Harper to the castle. Bind her if necessary. Lock her in—”

“No!” She pulls the dagger. Aims for my wrist.

Grey’s sword appears at the bend of her elbow. He’s got hold of her cloak, pulling her back and away from me.

She’s frozen, her face pale, her eyes wide with fear and fury.

I should feel remorse, but instead I feel satisfaction. Finally something gets through to her. “He’ll take your arm off if I order it.” I glance at the dagger in her hand. “I drew no weapon on you, my lady.”

“The reins.” Her voice grows tight, almost choked, and I wonder what kind of pressure Grey is putting on her neck. “I was going to cut the reins.”

“Ah.” I glance at him. “Release her.”

Grey obeys. She slides the dagger back into its sheath, then gives the cloak a jerk to right it. Her breath still shakes and tears glitter on her eyelashes.

Now I feel remorse.

She doesn’t look at me. “I just want to go to the inn.” Her cheeks are pink. She swallows and her voice is quiet. “I don’t—I don’t want to play games. I just wanted to help them.” With that, she glances up and a spark of her usual fire reenters her tone. “Do you understand that?”

Her words lodge in my thoughts, tangling with Grey’s near-admonition over the card game. I do nothing without careful thought regarding the impact. He was right: I do plan my moves out far in advance.

Maybe she’s right, too.

I look at Grey. “Escort her to the inn. I will follow in a moment.”

Grey’s eyebrows go up. “My lord—”