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Her ire rose. “What do you care?”

His shadow shifted. “I care about Jast, and you represent what Jast needs at the moment.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m just a pawn in your game, then?”

“We are all pawns.”

“Then change it.”

“Sometimes sacrifice is the change needed to do it.”

“Well don’t sacrifice yourself on the altar of matrimony for me. I don’t want it. I don’t want you,” she snapped, and even as she said it, she didn’t believe it anymore. She did want him, but the cost was too great. She would forever be the commoner elevated by marriage to a prince.

He moved toward her, the wood floor creaking. “Am I that objectionable?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What? Who I was?”

She nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “Yes.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t trust me when push came to shove.”

He took another step. “And how would that have sounded? I’m the crown prince of Jast, Tarley.” He stepped again, the thump of his boots somehow louder. “Someone tried to kill me. And you were a stranger.”

He was right. She’d known that was why even before he’d admitted it, but her petty heart couldn’t get over the weak way she wanted him. “And after you had your mouth between my legs?” she snapped, grateful he couldn’t see the way her face flushed.

He drew in a breath, and his shadow drew closer. “You didn’t want me, remember?”

Tarley took another step away, the back of her knees bumping against the bed. She couldn’t catch her breath, for some reason. She knew if she just reached out, she’d touch him. “Why do you care if I’m running away? Committing treason? Going to the woods? Any of the above saves you from marriage. From the sacrifice.”

“You think if you run, I won’t have to marry?” he scoffed. “You aren’t that naïve. If it isn’t you, Tarley, the queen will find another suitable candidate.” He took another step, and she could sense his heat. “Want to know why I’m in Kaloma at all?” he asked.

“I don’t need to know.” Though, the thought of Lachlan marrying someone else annoyed her, her irrational jealousy thinking about his mouth on someone else annoyed her further.

“My father promised me to a Princess Truisante–”

“That was a true story?”

“I’ve never lied to you other than failing to tell you my true name, Tarley.” He paused then said, “I was a prick to the princess. Made fun of how she looked so she’d call off the marriage rather than just tell my father I didn’t want to marry her.”

“She called it off?”

“Yes.” Lachlan stepped closer. “And I got sent away from Jast because my father couldn’t bear to look at me. He called me immature and weak. Not fit to be a king.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“You told me a couple of days ago that I should use my second chance to make the change I want.”

“Yes.”

“This is me doing that.”

She dropped her pack with a thud. “But you don’t want to marry. I don’t want to marry. We can look for another way. There must be–”

“I’ve never said anything about not wanting to marry,” he said, his fingertips skimmed her cheek. “I must marry. If I don’t make the choice, my father—or the queen—will.” He traced her face.