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But that’s a worry for later.

I hold my breath when Clover turns in her blankets. She’s now facing me…and she burrows in closer. Exhausted enough to sleep now that I’m in a more comfortable position, I relax.

Suddenly, Clover tenses. Her eyes open as though something startled her awake, and she blinks at me, in a daze.

“Henrik?” she murmurs, and then she slowly turns her head as if realizing our position.

“You’re dreaming,” I say quietly so I won’t disturb the others. “Go back to sleep.”

“Mmm,” she groans groggily. “The ground is usually more comfortable in dreams.”

I think she’s going to pull away, but instead, she closes her eyes and nestles closer to me.

Startled, I tighten my hold on her. “Are you warm enough?” I murmur, feeling suddenly protective of this woman even though she told me less than twenty-four hours ago that I’m not part of her plans for the future.

“Mmmhmm.” Clover lets out the tiniest contented sigh, and then she mumbles as she drifts off, “I like Dream Henrik.”

29

Clover

I waketo the faint smell of campfire smoke and the sound of someone shuffling around in their blankets.

A sliver of my forehead is cold, but the rest of me is wrapped in either my bedroll or my cloak.

Slowly I lift my head to peek out the opening in my nest. Immediately, I notice two things. The first is that our shelter is lightening with the dim, bluish glow of early dawn.

The second is Henrik.

His neck is mere inches from my face, and he’s fast asleep. The soldier is in his many, many layers, and I’m in mine, but I’m snuggled close to his side, and my head rests on his shoulder.

He stirs a little, and I snap my eyes shut.

“I know you’re awake,” he murmurs. His voice is thick with sleep, and it sends an arrow of longing to my heart.

What would it be like to wake up next to this man in different circumstances? It’s almost embarrassing how quickly my mind can bound down that path, imagining a bedroom in a small estate, with Henrik’s seal on the bedside table and a ring on my finger.

And maybe it wouldn’t be so blasted cold.

I crack an eye open to peer at him. “How?”

“You stopped talking in your sleep.”

“I did not,” I hiss, horrified. “I mean, Iwas not.”

Henrik smiles with his eyes half-closed, and so help me, it’s a sleepy, satisfied sort of look that begs to be kissed.

But…no.

We’re not in the place I thought we were just a few days ago, and I would be wise to remember it.

I push myself up, feeling like a caterpillar in a cocoon with all the layers. Unfortunately, there’s not a lot of room for me, and I end up sitting atop Henrik’s legs in a precarious position that isn’t terribly comfortable. His knee digs into my leg, and judging from the way he winces, I must be jabbing him somewhere as well.

“Sorry,” I mumble, keeping my voice low so I won’t wake Pranmore or Bartholomew.

“Clover,” Henrik growls low. “What are you trying to accomplish—

He’s abruptly interrupted by my muffled peep of concern when I lose my balance. I fall forward, my arms still trapped inside the bedroll and unable to stop my imminent crash.