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Lorian whirled, eyes feral, lips pulled back from his teeth in a vicious snarl. It was the first time I’d seen any true emotion from him since we’d left the ship, and I jolted.

“I’m almost done with these games.”

Staring him down was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice carefully neutral.

“I thought you were a fighter.”

“I am,” I said. “When I find something worth fighting for.”

Stepping past him, I walked over to my horse, checking the girth. The mare liked to puff up her belly while being saddled, and I tightened the girth another notch, giving her a pat. Lorian dropped a coin in the stable hand’s palm and swung himself up into his own saddle, waiting as I mounted.

I followed him back to the road. I had a faint ringing in my ears. A numbness sweeping through my body. Any time Lorian forced me to talk about the ruins of our relationship, it was all I could do not to flee.

It was simple. I needed to bury every feeling I’d ever had for him somewhere deep where I’d hopefully never need to look at it again. And I’d pretend he was a stranger. A smart, knowledgeable man I’d hired to escort me to the border.

Later, when I was alone—when he’d returned to whatever he did when his brother sent him on his little journeys—I could fall apart at my leisure. Then I’d build myself back up and never think of the fae prince again.

Pulling the hood of my cloak over my head, I steered my horse around a vendor selling roasted nuts from a cart. We were traveling through the outskirts of the slums now, and the musky odor of an unwashed street stuffed itself up my nostrils—fruit, exotic spices, urine, stale beer, horse shit. Someone was cooking something meaty and heavy with garlic.

“Who’s going to do the cooking now that Rythos isn’t here?”

Lorian steered his horse to the right. “I’m perfectly capable of skinning and cooking a rabbit.”

The thought made my stomach turn. But Lorian continued talking, as if starved of conversation. “Rythos enjoys cooking. The only one of us who does.”

I nodded silently.

“I can teach you if you’d like,” Lorian said.

I glanced at him, but his gaze was on the city gates in the distance.

Tamping down my natural instinct to deny him, I thought about it. It hadn’t been all that long ago that I’d been running for my life, wondering how I’d survive. Just like the other skills I’d picked up from the mercenaries—I refused to think of them as fae nobility—it made sense to learn this too. Even if it meant talking to Lorian.

He was waiting for me to speak. His expression was perfectly bored, but I could sense his attention. I took a deep breath. “I’d like to learn how to cook over a fire.”

Was I imagining the triumph that flashed through his eyes? I reached for a change of subject. “Tell me when I should use my power.”

He nodded, turning his gaze back toward the gate in the distance. It was just as heavily guarded as the Eprothan gate.

“Now,” he said, and I tugged on my magic.

In the end, the crossing was uneventful. We spent the entire day on horseback, until my body ached and I was more than ready to eat and sleep. Lorian built the fire, lit it with a single look, and then went hunting. I placed our bedrolls on opposite sides of the fire, fed the horses, and then sat, staring sightlessly into the flames.

When he returned, he showed me how to cook two rabbits over a spit. From the faint amusement in his eyes, I’d turned green.

Lorian waited until my eyes were heavy and I was buried under a blanket, lying on my bedroll. The bastard dragged his own bedroll just feet from mine, trapping me between his body and the fire.

“What are you doing?” I hissed.

He cast me a disinterested look. One I’d seen so many times during those first days when we’d traveled together. One I’d never thought I’d see again.

Obviously, we were in agreement about exactly how this trip would go. And our relationship as acquaintances.

It was what I’d wanted, but it stung that he didn’t even care. He’d never attempted to explain…

“You can tell yourself whatever makes it easier for you to hate me, wildcat. But it was real. All of it.”

I stabbed that little memory until it was dead. Lorian closed his eyes. “Protecting you, Nelayra.”