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That is, if he’s sleeping at all.

I creep over to my own blankets and flop onto them. Despair drags me down into dreams, where I am back in the snow, walking in circles.

When I wake, it is to the smell of buttered rolls and coffee from town. Oak and Tiernan are eating and talking quietly. I hear Tiernan laugh, and I wonder how much of what they are saying is about my escape attempt, if they find my failure hilarious.

Oak wears mortal clothes over his shining golden mail. It peeks out at his collar and cuffs. Tiernan wears his armor without any cover.

When the prince glances over at me, nothing changes in his expression. Maybe that’s because, to him, nothinghaschanged. He’d never believed I was anything but a potential adversary or a potential sacrifice.

I bite my tongue until it bleeds.

He smiles, and finally I see the flicker of anger in his eyes. It’s satisfying that he, who hides so much, can’t hide that. He walks over and sits beside me. “You knew I was a trickster.”

Then, before I can react, he presses a finger to his lips, glancing sideways at Tiernan. It takes me a moment to understand that hehasn’ttold the knight that I attempted to steal the bridle. What I don’t understand is why.

Tiernan rises and throws water onto the fire, causing a cloud of steam to rise. The late afternoon is bright, the sky almost aggressively blue after the storm.

I stick a roll in my mouth and pack up the remains of my gown, transferring the knife Oak lent me to my boot.

Tiernan mutters something and then heads off into the woods.

“Where is he going?” I ask.

“To Undry Market, ahead of us, to negotiate for the boat. Tiernan believes if the goblins know who I am, they will ask for outlandish things. We will take another path and see if anything follows.” He pauses. “You don’t mind, do you?”

I get up and brush off my legs. When someone thwarted your attempt to rob them, made it clear you weretheirprisoner, and then asks you a question like that, it’s not really a question.

We walk for a while in silence.

“Do you remember what I said about us being formidable, were we able to put mistrust aside?” he asks.

I nod reluctantly.

“I see we were not able,” he reminds me. “Now what, Wren?”

I feel helpless, as though he’s herding me around a chessboard to checkmate. “Why are you asking me this?”

He lets out a frustrated huff. “Fine, I will be plain. If you wanted to leave, why not go any other night?”

Another trap. “Why should I tell you anything, when you’re the one with so many secrets?”

“Everyone has secrets,” he says, although there is something like despair in his voice.

“Secrets about me,” I clarify.

“You’ve betrayed me. You’ve stolen from me. You met with the storm hag, and then hours later you snatch a powerful magical object and run. Do I deserve no answers?”

“I wanted the bridle,” I say. “So that you could never make me wear it.”

He kicks up a tornado of leaves. “What cause have I ever given you to accuse me of that?”

I look sullenly away.

He says nothing, merely waiting for my reply. The silence stretches on, and I am surprised that I am the one who breaks first and fills it.

“Tiernan told me he’d use the bridle on me if I betrayed you again.” I fix him with a glare.

Oak blinks in surprise and is quiet for a long moment. “He doesn’t understand why you freed Hyacinthe and the others,” he says finally. “He can’t believe you did it because you wanted to help them. Folk do not do such things where we come from.”