“I try.”
“So loyal, in fact, that even though Olivian offered you nothing, you agreed to forfeit your new title simply so Amryssa could have a better life.”
My nerves sizzled. Gods among us, why wouldn’t he justblink? “Not that it matters, but yes.”
“And you consider that normal. Just par for the course. You think you’re no one of consequence.”
“IknowI’m not.”
Long moments spun by. Kyven reached out and, when I froze, tucked my hair behind my ear. I shivered. Something about the gesture felt horrifyingly intimate. The brush of his fingers carried an impossible weight, one that made my heartbeat climb into my throat.
I angled away, trying to calm my reaction.
He dropped his hand and blinked, sobered by my retreat. “Apologies. Your hair was blowing around.”
I had no idea what to say. There was no breeze to speak of. Just a ripe, waiting stillness, so thick I could taste it.
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.”
