He cleared his throat, then rose and strolled away to lean against a pillar. Sweat glued his shirt to his back, accentuating the twin columns of muscle flanking his spine.
I stayed on the bench, trying to piece together my shattered composure. What the fuck had just happened? Just when I’d found my footing with him—a hatred I could safely burrow into—he’d knocked me off-kilter again.
“Harlowe?”
I jolted. It was the first time he’d said my name, and the syllables sounded so foreign in his mouth, the vowels robust, thersoftened almost to nonexistence. “What?”
“What’re they doing down there?”
“Who?”
“Those men.”
I smoothed my skirts—and my breathing with them—and went to stand beside him.
A duty, I reminded myself. That was all this was. I would tolerate this awful, beautiful, monstrous prince for a bit, thenmarry him to Amryssa and widow her. Logical, concrete steps I should have no trouble taking.
Steps Iwouldhave no trouble taking.
I scanned the lawn with shaded eyes. Below, Merron and the stewards milled at the edge, where the grass gave way to a feral purple tangle. In the swamp, cypress roots jutted from the water like beckoning fingers, inviting the unsuspecting into Zephyrine’s corrupted domain.
The men fanned out, armed with shovels and torches. Some dug a trench in the grass while others burnt the outer perimeter. Their combined efforts produced a barren brown line in the earth. “They’re containing the spread,” I said.
“The what?”
I glanced sidelong, but Kyven’s gaze was as open and cloudless as if the moment on the bench had never happened.
“The spread,” I said, steadier this time. “Of the rot.”
“The rot?”
“Yeah. It’s a long story, but...maybe you’ve heard of our patron goddess? Zephyrine?”
His mouth tilted. “I’m from Hightower, lioness. Not the underside of a rock.”
I rolled my eyes. Yep, I’d definitely enjoy stabbing him, when the time came. “Okay, so you might’ve heard of Zephyrine, but what you probably don’t know is that nine years ago, she fell asleep. Or was cursed with some kind of divine slumber. Or...well, nobody knows, really. What happened. But she stopped answering prayers, and started dreaming these awful nightmares, and without her around, the marsh got sick. Just in the middle, first, where Zephyrine sleeps inside her thousand-year-old tree. But the rot’s crept outward ever since. The only way to stop it is to burn it, so that’s what we do, because any plants or animals affected turn poisonous. Humans aren’tsusceptible, but if we don’t protect our gardens and coops and goats, we’ll have nothing to eat.”
“Hmm. That doesn’t sound so tragic.”
“No?” I scoffed. “Big words for someone who ate his own weight in bacon this morning.”
“Come, now. I’m not forgoing my rights to a lavish breakfast. I just mean that everyone acted so doom-and-gloom after the nightmare yesterday. So why not just leave? Go elsewhere?”
“And do what?” I crossed my arms. “Beg someone to take us in? No, thanks.”
“You wouldn’t have to beg. You’re rich.”
Oh, great. He was no different than the rest of them. “We’re not, actually. Everything we had is gone. Everything but what you see here.”
Kyven cut me a glance. That had surprised him, clearly, and I belatedly wondered if I’d misstepped. Maybe he’d come here believing Amryssa would make him wealthy. That he would inherit a territory whose coffers he could tap at will.
“So what you’re telling me,” he said slowly, “is that I should eat less bacon?”
I blinked. Or not. “I’m saying we have nowhere to go. No income. Oceansgate lost its tax collectors when we lost our lawmen. Life has only gotten harder, and at this point, we’re hanging on by our fingernails. Olivian’s only real hope is for Zephyrine to wake up.”
“So you stay,” he said, half-question, half-statement. “Nightmare after nightmare. Youendure.”
“I didn’t say I liked it.” My lips dragged down at the corners. “I hate it, actually. I hate how the nightmares make me feel so...”
