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I jolt upright so quickly I nearly topple off the narrow pallet, my sudden movement causing McColl to startle awake with a gasp. She clutches the covers to her chest, her dark eyes wide and confused as she blinks up at me and then at Kyrie.

“Good morning, you two.” Kyrie’s voice is filled with barely contained amusement. There is a steaming mug in her hands and a knowing smile on her lips. “Would either of you like some rosehip tea?”

Heat floods my face. “Um…that…I…” I scramble for words, running a hand through my disheveled hair. “We were…I…” I need to get it together. “We were just sleeping,” I finally settle on. I’m sure I must look like a naughty child. I certainly feel like one.

“Mmm-hmm.” Kyrie’s smile widens.

McColl looks like a startled deer. Her cheeks are flushed pink, and she won’t meet my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I stammer, though I’m not entirely sure who I’m apologizing to – McColl, Kyrie, or myself. “I didn’t mean to—” I look down at Kyrie, who finally locks eyes with me.

“It’s fine,” McColl says quickly, her voice slightly hoarse from disuse. “We were asleep. The pallet is small.” She shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”

I need to get out of this cabin. Now.

“Would you look at that? Night has already lifted. We should start those magic lessons,” I say abruptly, already moving toward my pack to grab fresh clothes. “Right now, in fact. I’ll meet you outside in a few minutes?” It’s thinly veiled as a question, but I leave without waiting for a response. I practically run out of there like my tail is on fire.

The cool morning air hits my face as I stride toward the lake, my heart still pounding from more than just embarrassment. I can’t stop thinking about how right it felt to wake up with McCollin my arms, how perfectly she’d fit against me, how her scent had made me want to bury my face in her hair.

Xander and Thesha’s warnings echo in my mind. They think my judgment is compromised, that I’m letting attraction cloud my thinking. Maybe they’re right.

I strip off my rumpled tunic and splash into the lake’s edge, cupping the cold water in my hands to wash my face and chest. The shock of it helps clear my head, at least temporarily. I scrub my teeth with my finger and then take a long drink of water.

I need to get myself together. I made a promise I wouldn’t act on my attraction. I also promised McColl that I would help her get home. I want to meet with her family, with the leaders of her coven. There is a bigger picture at stake here, and I can’t ruin it by thinking with what’s between my legs instead of what’s on my shoulders.

I hear footsteps and turn to see McColl heading this way. The yellow dress Kyrie gave her brings out the warm undertones in her dark hair and makes her skin glow in the filtered morning light. She looks beautiful, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. I look out over the lake because I’m sure I’m staring.

“Ready for your lesson?” she asks, and her voice is carefully neutral, professional even.

“As ready as I will ever be,” I say, turning to face her. Her eyes drop to my chest, where they linger on the elaborate marking that covers the left side of my torso, and I see genuine curiosity replace the careful distance in her expression. Her eyes move over the intricate lines of my marking.

“That’s beautiful,” she says softly, stepping closer. “What does it represent? Does it mean anything?”

I glance down at the mark I’ve carried since my coronation – a tree with spreading branches and deep roots, rendered in black ink shot through with streaks of gold and emerald green.

“It’s the royal mark of the Emptyfae Court,” I explain, suddenly self-conscious about her scrutiny. “It is the ancient symbol of my Court. The roots represent our connection to the earth, the branches our reach toward the heavens. The gold marks me as royalty.” I run my hand over it.

“Do all the kings have marks like this?”

I nod. “They do indeed, but each one is unique. Each Court has its own symbol. Xander’s is a heart in red and gold – the bloodfae mark of passion and loyalty. Orion bears a dragon, plus the bonding mark he received when he tethered with Delphine. Damon’s is of intricate ice crystals, representing the precision and beauty of the icefae. All with gold threaded through them for royalty.”

McColl’s eyes continue to rove over the lines of my mark; her fingers twitch as if she wants to trace them, and my skin burns under her scrutiny. She’s just interested in the royal markings, nothing more. It’s academic curiosity. She is, after all, quite the scholar.

“We should start the lesson,” I say, pulling my tunic back over my head.

“It’s such a lovely day for it.” McColl looks up at the sky and then across the valley.

“It is, indeed.”

The day is turning out to be unusually pleasant, with actual hints of sunlight burning through the perpetual haze. The warmth on my skin feels like a gift after the last few cold, gray days.

“All right,” McColl says, all business now. “Let’s start with the basics.”

“I must warn you that my magic feels like it has been growing since I gained access to it.”

“It’s more than likely that you have more access than when you first received your well.”

I nod.