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Anthea let out a soft sigh, feeling a touch of anxiety. Every delay, every unknown, felt like a potential threat in this world.

Noticing her unease, Kaelan offered a reassuring smile. “Come, let’s get you settled in. The local inn is a cozy place; you will like it.” The inn, the White Seafoam, was a charming two-story building with a rustic, orange tiled roof. She could almost feel the warmth emanating from it, lilac and rose flowered bushes framed the door, inviting her in. Once inside, Kaelan showed her to her room. “Rest up. Tomorrow will be another long day of traveling,” he said, leaving her at the door.

Anthea stepped into her room, appreciating its simplicity. The sight of a prepared hot bath brought a genuine smile to her face.

She wasted no time in getting in.

Still enveloped in the residual warmth and comfort from the bath, Anthea was adjusting the covers on the bed when a soft knock resonated through the room. Padding to the door, she opened it to find an elven maid holding a tray laden with dishes that released an inviting aroma into the room.

“Evening meal,” the elf said with a polite nod, her brown eyes glinting in the dim light of the room.

“Thank you,” Anthea replied, taking the food from her. The steam wafting from the bowl of fish stew teased her senses, and the mashed vegetables looked creamy and inviting, making her mouth water.

With a gentle smile, the elf said, “Eat up. Call if you need anything.” And with that, she turned and left the room, leaving Anthea to savor her meal and enjoy the peace of the evening.

She was in the midst of preparing for a night’s rest when another soft knock sounded at her door. Thinking it was the same elf as before, here to take the empty dishes away, Anthea opened the door with a smile on her face. She had enjoyed the hot meal and wanted to give her compliments to the chef.

But it wasn’t the elven maid.

It was Endreth—the Crimson prince stood on the threshold of her room, holding a bottle of golden liquid and two crystal glasses.

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“May I come in?” Endreth asked, looking more unsure than Anthea had ever seen him.

She hesitated, not knowing what to say. The truth was, she had been thinking about this moment for a long time. Would she come clean? Would she tell Endreth that she, too, hadn’t been honest with him? That she had used him? What would he think of her then? She had accused him, but she, too, had lied?—

“I didn’t want to simply . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck. “In two days, we will be in the Iron court. We will have to put on our masks, pretend . . . I didn’t want to enter that place without?—”

“Come in,” Anthea cut him off, stepping aside to let him enter before closing the door behind him. He walked over to the small white table, set down the two goblets, and filled them to the brim.

“I’m not angry at you anymore,” she told him, making him whip his head around, making his eyes widen in surprise. She took a couple of steps closer, noting how his shoulders relaxed just a tiny bit. “I’ve come to understand you a lot more since I last saw you. Truly.”

“Anthea?”

“I know about your mother . . . What you’ve been through.” She took another step forward, her voice a soft whisper, “I understand now. Why you thought it necessary to?—”

“Do you also know that it was my fault?” He cut her off. Endreth grabbed a crystal glass filled with the amber liquid and downed it.

“Why would you say that?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he lifted his hand, fingers tracing the curve of a beautiful silver ring with an azure gem adorning the leather cord around his neck, his movements tense.

“Is that hers—your mother’s?” she asked, but before he could answer, something else caught her eye: one of her silver earrings was strung onto the cord alongside the ring. Without thinking, Anthea reached out to touch it. He stopped her hand, enclosing his around her fingers.

“Mementos of the people I have lost,” Endreth answered her unasked question, hiding the leather necklace beneath his white v-necked blouse.

“What are you talking about? You haven’t lost me.” Anthea lifted her eyes up to his face.

He poured himself another drink, the golden liquid shimmering as it filled the crystal. Raising it halfway to his lips, he paused, looking at her with a resigned sadness. “In a way, I have.”

She felt a pang in her chest, his words hitting her harder than she wanted to admit. What had happened between them—it had hurt him. More than she’d realized. Words failed her, and all she could do was watch him, waiting for an explanation.

“I loathe this,” he said. “This character I have to play . . . It’s . . . I hate it.”

“Endreth—”

“In two days, we will be in the Iron court. Every time I touch you, every time I lay claim on you there,” he said, his voice was raw, “I am reminded of . . . of what I did to you before. How I used your dependency on me. Gods, Anthea. I am so sorry.” He raked his hand through his auburn locks, messing them up.