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He urged his gelding up ahead, past Rian and Tyrin, until he was keeping pace beside Josephine.

Because Serinbor was on Josephine’s other side.

Alder had yet to bring Serinbor with him on his raids, but Serinbor hadn’t begged to come along either. Both had been perfectly content to keep their distance from the other until today. Tyrin had argued for Serinbor’s case, purely from a point of strategy. Serinbor was one of Weald’s best warriors—even Alder couldn’t deny that—and since Callant was much farther than any mission thus far, Tyrin had advised Alder bring the crowing idiot along.

Alder still regretted that moment of weakness, and he blamed his interchange with Josephine in the training yard for it.

“—air smelled so sweet. There was nothing like it,” Serinbor was saying. “In fact, many a mortal bargained with our kind just to bottle it up and use it as perfume…” His voice trailed off as he noticed Alder, and then he stiffened. “Prince Alder.” Every time Serinbor spoke Alder’s title, it was as if he were swallowing bitter poison. Alder would be lying if he said that it didn’t give him an inordinate amount of pleasure.

Josephine turned her face toward him, and Alder’s pleasure spiked for an entirely different reason. Never mind that she was looking at him with open hostility.

“Please do not cease this riveting monologue on my account,” Alder said. “I daresay I’ve never heard you so poetic. What has come over you, Serinbor?”

Serinbor’s expression darkened.

Alder shouldn’t have goaded him, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

“Serinbor was just telling me what your landusedto look like,” Josephine said tightly.

Alder didn’t like her coming to his defense.

“Perhaps you might enlighten her further?” Serinbor said with an edge that Alder also didn’t like. “After all, you are the expert on our land, being that you spent so much of your time indulging in all it had to offer.”

Alder had the overwhelming urge to knock Serinbor from his horse. He didn’t, of course. He had better control than that, and he didn’t dare give Serinbor the pleasure of seeing how his words needled under his skin. Alder smiled instead. “How right you are, Serinbor. In fact, I’ll take it from here.”

Serinbor glared while Alder smiled right back. Alder could see the mounting fury, but he knew Serinbor would not spend it. Alder was now officially his prince again, maybe one day his king––if they recovered Weald––and while Serinbor had his many, many grievances, he would not air them like he had at their reunion.

Instead, he tipped his head and fell back in the procession, taking a place behind Rian.

“What happened between the two of you?” Josephine asked sharply but not loudly.

Alder swayed with his horse. This was not a conversation he wanted to have right now. “It’s complicated.”

“That’s usually the answer of someone who does not wish to own their faults.”

“I’ve owned plenty, but Serinbor is uniquely uncharitable when it comes to…our history.”

“I see.”

Alder figured the picture Josephine was nowseeingdidn’t paint him in a favorable light. He should have let it rest; he’d already shared more than he should have. Unfortunately, he cared too much about her opinion of him. “You cannot possibly,” he said instead.

Those blue eyes shot to him with challenge. “Then perhaps you might enlighten me.”

Alder would never know what compelled him to say, “Perhaps I will someday, my little arrow.”

Josephine’s cheeks colored boldly before she sat up straight and set her attention on the path ahead. For a moment, they rode in silence, and Alder couldn’t help admiring the way she sat upon that chestnut-brown gelding with her strong legs and tight little body, totally at ease. She was no stranger to horses, that much was evident, but how she’d come to learn, he couldn’t fathom. He’d seen her home. Her lack.

“Where did you learn?” he asked.

She glanced at him, and he nodded at the horse. Still, she hesitated, as if reluctant to make conversation with him.

Alder waited, keeping pace beside her, and he was considering reminding her of her vow not to hate him for a few days when she said, “My nani’s father used to board and breed horses.”

Rys had never mentioned this. “Ah, so it’s a family trade…?”

“No.” Josephine shook her head and pushed back a few strands of stray ivory hair. “My papa was a blacksmith. He didn’t have time for horses, unless they moved the pulleys, but I’ve always loved them. Papa always said I inherited that from my nani,”as well as my prophetic dreams, she did not say, but Alder heard it anyway.

Josephine said no more, like she’d caught herself sharing more than she’d intended. Her bottom lip puckered with thought, and Alder had the sudden notion to take it between his teeth.