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He ran his fingers through his hair, his chest expanding with the movement, accentuating the sculpted parts of him, as well as the scars I hadn’t noticed before. Pink lashes rode over his shoulder, slipped around his waist, nicked his bicep.

“I didn’t mean to forsake our nightly meetings,” he said. “I had assumed you would require more rest tonight, and I’ve not exercised my weapons since arriving.”

“You’re impressive when you thrusty-thrust.”

He chuckled. “Thank you?”

“Pleasure’s all mine. Thankyoufor hefting my curves home.”

“How do you fare?”

“Better.”

“I don’t think so,” he contested. “Something burdens you. I would have you confide in me.”

“I would have you play with your long, stiff swords again.”

“For Season’s sake—”

“I was just stifled by that place. I don’t know.” I kicked a pebble across the grass. “I felt helpless, useless. The migraine killed me, but it helped knowing you were there, and Nicu’s singing made things better, too.”

“Is that why we’re here?”

My head craned up. “Huh?”

“Are you hunting the acorns for your mother?”

I’d debated the risks of pretending to forage for the acorns, a crooked truth that might throw off lingering qualms about me.

Me, the castle trespasser and runaway enabler.

I’d given him a partial explanation about having the stick key, saying that I’d acquired it after wooing the locksmith’s apprentice, leaving the rest up to the knight’s imagination. Of course, I hadn’t mentioned that I’d made the replica myself.

The acorn in the vault was another story. As the First Knight, Aire might know about that secret treasure protected in the castle. In that case, playing dumb—as ignorant as every citizen to that fact—and pretending to search for the nuts would thwart suspicion.

Or his uncanny intuition might sense a ruse.

I’d thought that I had mastered the art of lying. With him, maybe I actually had a limit. No matter what he knew or didn’t know, no matter what scenario came about, better to limit any connections to the acorns.

Regardless, it didn’t come as a shock that he’d asked, considering I’d cited this place as my destination, a colony of wishes and hopes. I’d been prepared for that.

“I’m here for a cure. I don’t care what kind,” I said. “If it’s an acorn, then it’s an acorn. If it’s not, it’s not.”

My nose didn’t object. A good part of me must have believed that statement.

Those blue eyes prowled mine, but then his shoulders relaxed. “Retrieve your axes.”

“What? Why?” I bleated.

“Peace, maiden. I’ve no intention of confiscating them.”

“Because like hell would I let you.”

“In the forest, you expressed a void, a helplessness. You failed to wield your weapons against the fox mavens, and prior to that, you hurled those axes at me with little finesse. You’re not a fighter.”

“Pfft. Who wants to fight?”

“If you don’t yet, you shall. You’re spirited, hardly a mouse, and I see the way you gaze at weaponry, as though you long to master it. Retrieve your axes.”