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Soon, I’ll have no choice but to return to my life.

* * *

I’m notthe only one who’s not going home today. Pranmore, the stubborn elf, refuses to leave Henrik’s side as well, bringing our traveling party to a grand total of four—one aspiring knight, a squire who’s never wielded a blade, an elf who insists he’ll run beside us as we travel so he doesn’t have to offend a horse, and a runaway lady-in-waiting who refuses to return to her princess.

It’s no wonder why Henrik looks agitated this morning. We’re a group of misfits if I’ve ever seen one.

A wagonload of talvernum arrived a few hours ago, and the yard buzzes with activity as soldiers and guards weigh the ore and then record it on a ledger, comparing it to the list that came from the mine.

But the bronze-colored ore is none of our concern. We have more pressing matters to discuss.

“Truly, there is no reason for you to feel obligated to me,” Henrik says to Pranmore, amazingly patient. “I am a soldier of Caldenbauer—I have vowed to protect the king’s subjects, which includes the elves as well as the humans. I was simply doing my job, and I’m always happy to have the opportunity to serve.”

Pranmore shakes his head. “It makes no difference whether it was duty or will—you saved my life, and I will stay by your side.”

Henrik glances at me. The strange look on his face makes me tilt my head to the side, wondering what he’s plotting.

“In truth, it was Lady Clover who saved your life,” Henrik says. “If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have come after you.”

I open my mouth to object, but Pranmore beats me to it. “While I am most grateful to Lady Clover, it was you, sir soldier, who slew the poor creature.”

Smirking, I raise an eyebrow at Henrik. He shoots me a dry look that says he had to try, and I press my lips together to trap in a laugh.

“Fine,” the soldier finally says. “If you wish to accompany us, I cannot stop you. You are free to travel where you will.”

Looking pleased, the elf nods.

Henrik pauses next to me on his way into the guard post. Under his breath, he murmurs, “Perhaps if we travel quickly enough, we can lose him. But do you think you can keep up, Lady Clover?”

Amused, I give my borrowed chestnut mare a pat on the neck and turn to face him. “Worried I’ll hold you back?”

His stormy blue eyes linger on mine, but he doesn’t answer.

“You won’t lose me so easily,” I tell him, and then I move a little closer. “I’m persistent.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“If you’ll remember, you’re the one who invited me along.” Too innocently, I drop my voice. “Why was that, soldier?”

Uncomfortable with my flirting, and not about to answer me, Henrik squares his jaw.

Laughing, I mount my horse.

* * *

The day ends up pleasant,and even in the high mountains, the sun is warm enough only a light cloak is needed. Henrik bluffed about the pace, and Pranmore easily keeps up with our horses.

We travel deer trails, and Henrik occasionally consults his compass.

Bartholomew talks nearly incessantly, but his chatter pleasantly fills what would be silent stretches. At first, I worried the young duke might scare away the creatures Henrik is trying to track—until I realized the predators very well might be drawn to the noise.

“That rock there looks a bit like a Dornauth, don’t you think?” Bartholomew says when we pass a small boulder in the road. Indeed, it does vaguely resemble a stout little person.

“Dorian gnome,” Pranmore corrects, ducking under a low-hanging pine bough in the trail.

Bartholomew turns to him, curious. “You don’t call them Dornauths?”

Pranmore visibly flinches, and I take pity upon him before he must explain. “‘Dornauth’ is a derogatory name used by the High Vales,” I explain. “As the suffix ‘nauth’ means monster in elvish. The gnomes were not monsters, but a race like humans or elves.”