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She woke to a groan and a tugging against her hand. When she peeled her eyes open, she found that she had curled against the wall, her hand still gripping Edmund’s.

He had propped himself up on an elbow as he tried to ease his fingers from her hold. When he glanced up, his gaze snagging on hers, he gave that quirked smile again. “Sorry I woke you. But this”—he held up their clasped hands—“is really going to give someone the wrong impression if you aren’t careful.”

Her heart lurched inside her chest, and she snatched her hand out of his, glancing toward the door.

Sarya lay across the doorway, sleeping. Or doing a very good job of pretending to be asleep. No one else seemed to be around, and the night outside the window remained inky black. Only a few hours had passed.

Edmund pushed himself all the way into a sitting position, hunching and giving another groan.

“No, do not get up. You need to rest.” Jalissa rolled to her feet and reached to set a hand on his shoulder, intending to make him lie back down.

But she stopped short of touching him as she realized the blanket had slipped down to Edmund’s waist when he had sat up. Lean muscles corded his shoulders, arms, and chest, while a bandage wrapped around his middle. That chest…and the little curls of dark hair…

She was not sure where to look. Or not to look. Her ears were on fire, her mouth so dry she could not even swallow.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, maybe you can find me a shirt?” Edmund made a noise in the back of his throat, as if he, too, were uncomfortable.

A shirt. Yes. That would help make him less…distracting.

Jalissa whirled and searched the far side of the room for several seconds, not really seeing it. Finally, she blinked and forced herself to focus.

Shelves filled the far wall. Most held bandages and some jars of juice to be used in medicine. But there on a bottom shelf rested a stack of plain green shirts and trousers.

She all but lunged across the room for them, kneeling before the shelves.

“Is there any word from Lethorel?” Edmund’s voice came from behind her.

“Yes. Farrendel and Elspetha captured the last two spies, and no one was hurt. They are on their way back to Estyra even now.” Jalissa picked up one of the shirts, trying to pretend her hand was not trembling. After a moment, she also grabbed a pair of trousers. She was not sure what was left of Edmund’s after all the blood, and it would be better just to give it to him now rather than wait and have him awkwardly ask later.

“Good.” Edmund stated that one word with the finality of someone who just had a decision confirmed as the right one.

Blindly, she crossed the room and thrust the clothes at him, trying not to look but catching a peek of his chest anyway before she stepped away and turned her back to him. “Do you wish for me to leave?”

“No. Just…” He made another muffled noise of pain. “Just give me a moment.”

Perhaps she should stay, just to make sure he did not pass out trying to get dressed. “The healing magic is still working.”

“I expected as much.” More pained gasps and rustling came from behind her. “I’ve never had the pleasure of experiencing an elven healing before.”

“You were never hurt while spying?” Jalissa kept her voice low as she faced the open door. Sarya had not awakened, even with all their talking. Her guard had been exhausted, but Jalissa would not put it past her to be pretending in order to give Jalissa this moment of semi-privacy.

“I was. But it wasn’t like I could risk an elven healing.” That hint of easy laughter was back in his voice. “They were sure to notice I was a human in elf’s clothing. The questions would have been a little awkward to answer.”

“I can see that.” Jalissa blinked down at her hands. If she had asked more questions back then, what would he have told her? How would she have reacted?

Maybe those were not the right questions, as her machasheni would say. The past was done. Neither of them could change it.

But she could control how she reacted now, and that would shape their future.

“You can turn around now.”

When Jalissa turned, she found Edmund standing with one hand braced against the wall. He wore both the shirt and the trousers she had given him, the sleeves and ends of the trousers a few inches too long.

For the first time, Prince Edmund wore green.

Her gaze lifted to those eyes of his, the ones that now appeared more green than blue when surrounded by the deep greens of this place.

He took a step, one hand pressed over his healing wound and the other still braced against the wall. “Jalissa, I need to leave.”