My badly-abused stomach flips despite its queasiness. “Be serious.”
“I am.”
Liar.I roll my eyes.
“The Myseci won’t accept an outsider. I doubt the Ansi would accept me, either, even if I were to abdicate.”
“I’d fight for you, Sunshine.”
I’m not ready to say I’d give up my right to the Myseci throne for a man I barely know.
“Prove it. Take me to meet your tribe.”
I don’t know why I’m making demands of him. I mean it to be flirtatious, but my head is still muddled from the explosion. I need rest. I’m drawn to him. I know I want more than a night with him, but with our country teetering on the brink of conquest, it’s not exactly ideal timing.
Besides, I don’t believe he’s serious about wanting to marry me. Not for one second. I’m interesting because I’m forbidden and unexpected, but he’s not going to make a sacrifice of that magnitude to win me. No way, no how.
I’m setting myself up for heartbreak, and I’ve had quite enough experience with that. Hard to say which I trust least, his motives or my own judgment.
“We’re on the wrong side of the river,” Tovian says, with a smile played around the corners of his lips. Apparently, I’ve been forgiven for concealing my true identity from him.
At the makeshift camp, Luza, clad in a plain tunic buttoned high on her neck and too-short trousers belted at her waist, stands before a blazing fire. A pistol hangs from one hip, and a traditional Auralian hunting knife pokes out of the boot, its hilt visible in the space between the leather and the hem of her pants.
“No one is crossing the river tonight,” she says, eyeing our guest. “We’ll sleep in the wagons and move at first light.” Her gaze flicks from Tovian to me. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’ll live. I should treat these cuts, though.”
Luza gives me a medical kit stolen from one of the wagons. It’s basic, not much more than a few Band-Aids (knockoff brand), antiseptic cream (ditto), and gauze, but it’s enough for me to patch my injuries. I lower myself gracelessly onto a log. Tovian perches beside me, observing.
I wonder if this is how Zosia felt when Lorcan was guarding her. I don’t mind being watched by Tovian, but it is making me more self-conscious than usual.
Or, maybe it’s the knock on the head. If I wanted to follow proper treatment protocol for a concussion, I would rest for the next few days. I don’t have that luxury.
“Unless you want to ford the marshes again tonight, we’re more than a day’s ride north to get to the nearest ferry,” Tovian says. I roll my pant leg back down, covering the row of bandages plastered to my shin. He toys with the discarded wrapper, studying it.
“I can’t take that big a detour. I need to get back to base camp in Oceanside.”
We kicked the hornet’s nest today. It won’t be long before the pirates retaliate. I need to talk with Ephram.
I’m so damned tired.
“I can get you to Ansi Village, where you can rest, Princess.” He takes my wrist and turns it over, examining a bruise there by the firelight. “You’re pretty banged up. We can take cover in the cliffside caves tonight and make the crossing tomorrow.”
“Excuse me. Who died and made you commander, Tovi?”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t release my wrist. I suck in a breath and don’t release it. His touch sends flutters through me.
“I’m a prince, Sunshine. You and I are equals.” He winks. “Bet you don’t have much experience with that.”
Damn his hide, he’s right. I’ve met princes, mostly a few random European shadow royals, the sons and daughters of kingdoms long since reduced to a name and an estate, nothing more. Around them, I was keenly aware that my country was nothing more than a curiosity. A civilization trapped in time—but at least I was someone who held actual political power.
Here at home, the only one who ever challenged me was Lorcan. Outside of the training ring, he was generally deferential—as befitted the son of a disgraced knight. Nowhere close to my equal, although he’s since managed to carve out a place for himself between royalty and legend.
If he lives.
I close my eyes.
Wake up.Nearly a month, now, since his accident. The longer he remains in a coma, the less chance he’ll ever awaken.
