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A ric was right about sunrise. I was facing away from him, so I didn’t witness the precise moment of his transformation. But a flash of light, a sound like wind rushing through the trees, and when I turned around a tall white stallion had taken his place.

Part of me was relieved, even though Aric—twitching and snorting at insects, muttering irritably about the mud and his lack of hands again—clearly didn’t share the sentiment. At least this way I could ride. Every part of my body ached from my earlier fall and sleeping on the cold ground. I was sorely tempted to drink one of my bottles of tonic, but I knew it would do me no good—Julieta’s mixture eased the symptoms of my condition, but not of a bruised body.

Or a bruised heart. As the morning unfurled, my mood darkened along with the clouds subsuming the sky. I’d had no word from Evito yet—which was to be expected, since I’d left the castle not even a full day ago—but I couldn’t banish the fear threading through my veins when it stemmed from so many sources. I had only three bottles of tonic to get me to the border and back, and my condition could flare at any time. Aric’s words about the coronation and its link to Gildenheim’s magic unsettled me to the core. By now the Council—and, worse, my parents—could have learned what a mess I’d made of my marriage and be making countermoves, which couldn’t possibly improve political tensions; if Evito had the means to contact me securely, there was nothing preventing him from informing my family as well. And that was assuming the Council had nothing to do with the assassination attempt in the first place, as Aric seemed to believe.

And then there was my retinue. Julieta, and Catalina, and the other five guards who’d risked their lives to protect me—were they safe? Or were they being subjected to torture for answers they couldn’t possibly know?

-What’s on your mind?- Aric’s voice sounded in my head, making me startle. - I can practically feel you thinking.-

I stiffened. I hadn’t considered the potential implications of our mental bond. If he could sense my thoughts in turn, I had to be careful. I couldn’t let him know about my condition—or, just as mortifying, the way my thoughts kept straying to the color of his eyes, or picturing a thousand more pleasant ways our wedding night could have unfolded, or how badly I’d wanted to turn around when he was undressing at dawn.

“I was just wondering how you take your breakfast,” I said quickly. “Since you asked about it so kindly before our wedding.”

I didn’t need to see his face to sense his skepticism. - How I take my breakfast? I didn’t realize there was much mystery to how a horse eats. Or were you wondering about some function of the spell?-

Now I sounded like a fool, but I’d successfully rerouted the conversation. “I meant as a man, of course. How do you take your meals? Alone? At the table? In bed? I suppose now that we’re married, it could be one of the things we do in bed together. If that’s what you like. Eating, that is. I mean—eating breakfast. Not… other parts.” My face went hot. “Other things, I mean. Things, not parts. Things such as… draperies?”

Virtue of Silence, what was wrong with me? I was a trained courtier. I shouldn’t be gabbling nonsense like an ingenue. What was it about Aric that scattered my composure to the winds?

“Forget I asked,” I said, glad that at least I didn’t have to look him in the eye. “I just thought we might get to know one another. Since we did just get married.”

Aric walked on for a few moments in silence. I could feel him thinking, the quiet churn of his thoughts keeping pace with the fall of his hooves on the road and the occasional irritated swish of his tail.

-If we’re to get to know one another, asking how I take my breakfast is a peculiar place to start.- His tone was wary, but not outright hostile. Was he self-conscious? I couldn’t read his emotions as readily as his words, but they were present, like currents beneath the surface of deep water. It felt like there was a silent question behind the words. Perhaps even an invitation.

I accepted it. Worrying about my retinue was doing neither me nor my attendants any good.

“Where would you rather start, then?”

-We could talk about things we like to do. What’s important to each of us. I believe that’s often a place where lovers start courting.-

“We’re not lovers. And I think we’re a little past courting.” We’d been about to get in bed, for ocean’s sake. If the assassin hadn’t interrupted, I would already know if he felt like the marble statue he resembled, or whether he was capable of being more… expressive.

-That doesn’t mean it should be omitted entirely,- Aric said. He was self-conscious. I wasn’t imagining the embarrassment suffusing his words. - I realize our marriage was founded on a misunderstanding—-

“Really.” I let irony seep through my voice.

-But that doesn’t change the fact that we are married. Unless this is your way of telling me you’d rather not be.-

“No, I—that’s not what I meant.” Truthfully, it hadn’t occurred to me that divorce was an option, though it was common enough outside the noble Houses. I hadn’t had time to process the implications of learning that neither of us had actually demanded the match. Perhaps this was Aric’s way of suggesting we separate.

But even if we did divorce, we would still be neighbors—and, hopefully, allies. Whichever way our relationship went next, I could use what I learned now to Damaria’s advantage.

I thought of my fencing lessons with Nita. Learn your opponent’s weaknesses before you engage them, she always said. I was already far past engagement with Aric. But I could still apply my instructor’s principles.

“Very well,” I said. “Let’s play at courting. We’ll take turns posing a question that we both answer. You start, since you took issue with my inquiry about your breakfast habits.”

-Your favorite place to spend time,- Aric prompted.

I didn’t even need to consider. “The weapons training ground.”

Wry amusement flickered through his thoughts. - Consistent with your choice of dance accessories. What do you like about it?-

The familiar scents of oil and leather. The weight of a rapier in my hand. The way my muscles burned with hard-earned heat and my focus narrowed to a single point during my daily practice. The satisfaction of scoring a hit against an opponent.

“It’s where I feel most myself,” I replied. “I don’t have to think about politics, or my parents’ expectations, or the weight of my duties. Nothing matters except the sword in my hand. Everything is so… clear.”

Aric was giving me his complete attention—I could feel it, focused on me like a singular beam of sunlight breaking through dark clouds. My cheeks warmed. I was playing him for weaknesses, and I’d already given too many of my own away.

“Your turn,” I said briskly. “Tell me your favorite place.”

-The castle library,- said Aric. Hesitation had crept into his voice again, as if he expected me to judge him harshly.

I waited, tacitly inviting him to go on.

-It’s peaceful there. Quiet. I can lose myself in the pages for hours and not have to worry about fending off irate courtiers who don’t like a new policy, or giving an unsatisfactory answer when someone asks me a question. All the answers I need are already in the books, there for the finding.- He’d softened, like dawn breaking over the sky. Talking of things you loved could do that to a person. - My tutors often complained that I refused to take my nose out of a book long enough to learn dancing or swordplay. Not that I would ever have excelled at those anyway, not by comparison to… well. The library was always more rewarding.-

“It sounds lovely.”

-It is. I spent most of my hours there, before… - His words faltered.

I could guess what came next. “Before the queen died.”

-Yes. Before fulfilling the duties she left behind consumed my days.- He’d grown distant again in a heartbeat, retreating to a place I wasn’t welcome. I cursed myself for broaching the topic.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” The words felt inadequate. He’d probably heard them a thousand times in the last month.

-Thank you,- Aric said woodenly.

Every trace of the warmth I’d briefly sensed had vanished. He was the same cold man I’d met in the ballroom, hard and unapproachable. It was hard to believe he’d ever been anything different. Perhaps I’d been wrong about a softer version of the man I’d married. Perhaps it didn’t exist.

We rode on in silence for the better part of an hour before I realized our game had stopped. I’d never had the chance to ask my own question.

My condition decided to make itself known midway through the afternoon, an hour or two after we’d paused to eat. Pain flared in my abdomen like a hearth under the bellows, arriving in hot, sharp waves. Along with it came nausea, spiking worse with each pulse of my heart.

As strange as it was to ride without reins, at the moment I was grateful for the lack; otherwise I might have dropped them involuntarily. I pressed my arms to my stomach, regretting every bite of the brick-like loaf I’d forced past my hunger for lunch as it threatened to return the other way. I closed my eyes, my jaw clamped tight.

Send me to the depths. Of all the times for this to happen. I couldn’t even take my tonic without Aric noticing and connecting it to my symptoms.

-Bianca?- Aric had noticed my distress. He stopped walking, and I could feel his attention focusing on me. - What’s wrong?-

I gritted my teeth. “I’m fine.” I couldn’t afford to let Aric see me suffer. Virtues guide me, I’d hoped I could hide my condition at least until we returned to the castle and I could manage it better. The shame was almost as debilitating as the pain.

Another wave of nausea came crashing down. Blackness lapped at the edges of my vision, an encroaching tide. I bit down viciously on a whimper, refusing to let it past my teeth.

-You’re absolutely not fine. You feel like you’re about to fall off my back.-

I’d forgotten he could sense me—physically as well as mentally; my legs had shifted around his sides as I crimped up in pain. I tried to ease my posture, but another wave of nausea ripped at my abdomen.

“It’s nothing,” I forced out.

The lie was as flimsy as a cobweb. Aric didn’t even bother to acknowledge it. - Are you injured? Poisoned?-

I closed my eyes again as dizziness swelled. Ocean take me, I was so drowning weak . This wasn’t even the worst flare I’d experienced.

“I just get like this sometimes. It will pass.”

A moment of consideration. - Your courses?-

I flushed. Menstruating was a reasonable assumption; there were plenty of people who needed an apothecary for their pains. But in Damaria, it was typically ignored—not shameful, but an inconvenience no one particularly liked to talk about. Aric’s directness startled me.

I shook my head before remembering he couldn’t see me. Or could he? I had no real sense of what a horse’s vision was like. “Not that. Something… something else. It’s happened before. Truly, it’s nothing.”

-You can barely even ride. It’s clearly not nothing. Is there anything that helps?- Concern softened Aric’s words. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought he cared. But of course he didn’t. I was just inconveniencing us both.

Another wash of pain. This time, I let it sweep aside my protests. I’d already revealed my weakness; I might as well just take the tonic. It would help us get moving faster, and perhaps save me from even deeper disgrace. Aric wouldn’t think any better of me if I fell off his back thanks to my own stubbornness.

I opened my eyes. “I have a tonic I take for it. There are a few doses in the saddlebags.”

Aric held perfectly still as I slid from the saddle. My knees nearly folded when my feet hit the ground, and I gripped the pommel, swaying. By all the Virtues, I was just as weak and useless as my parents had always said.

I focused on my breath and pretended I was folding the pain away like a handkerchief. Tucking it into smaller and smaller squares and sliding it out of sight.

My hands trembled as I uncorked a bottle of tonic and drank it down to the last bitter drop. My body begged for another, but I couldn’t afford to run out now. Seas, I yearned to lie down. To curl into a ball in my own bed. I wished I could turn myself to ice, make it all go numb. I wished Tatiana were here to distract me from the pain with an irreverent joke. I wished for Julieta—the only person other than my sister who never castigated me for my physical failures. But I had failed her in other ways, or else I wouldn’t be here now.

Aric was waiting—undoubtedly judging my weakness. Wondering when I would get back in the saddle so we could return to more important things. I took the deepest breath I could manage.

“I’m afraid I might need your assistance to mount.”

He didn’t move. - We’re not going anywhere until you’re fit to ride.-

That stubborn— Another wave of nausea washed through me, cutting off the thought. I braced myself until it passed, then opened my eyes. My knuckles were white where I clutched the saddle, as if the bones showed through.

“Aric,” I gritted out, my jaw tight. “I have danced like this. I have fenced like this. I promise you I can ride like this. The tonic will take effect soon, and in the meanwhile we are wasting time we can’t afford to lose. Now would you kindly allow me to use my own judgment, or must I grovel at your feet for the honor of mounting you?”

Aric hesitated. I felt his disapproval, his concern, prick at the edges of my consciousness like a rapier. Then he lowered himself to his knees so I could mount.

We continued down the road in silence. Aric’s reticence felt as heavy as the clouds looming overhead. I knew he must be judging me. Realizing exactly what manner of woman he had married, weighing possible courses of action. I couldn’t bring myself to attempt to pry into his thoughts—I’d heard enough of their ilk from my parents to last me a dozen lifetimes. Instead I kept my eyes on the way ahead and focused on breathing as the waves of pain gradually ebbed, the tonic taking effect.

-I was thinking,- Aric said finally, wariness giving his mellow voice an edge. - This… ailment of yours.-

“I call it my condition.” I restrained myself from saying more. He’d already seen too much of a weakness whose existence he was never supposed to suspect.

-Your condition.- Aric paused. - I wish you’d told me.-

My heart dropped several notches. This was when he would say it. He hadn’t known before the marriage. Now that he did, the match was off.

I looked determinedly at the road ahead, over Aric’s pointed ears. I was grateful he couldn’t see my face—he wouldn’t witness how much it hurt to watch my parents’ predictions come true. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have hidden it from you. Now that you know, I’m willing to dissolve the match. But I want to sign a new treaty first. To formalize the peace before we divorce.”

Aric’s pace faltered, jolting me. - Before we divorce?-

Surely he’d heard me the first time. I forced myself to continue. “Yes. Since we’ve realized that neither you nor the Council is actually threatening war on the other, there’s no reason for us to be bound by this arrangement once we’ve returned to Arnhelm. Especially since you clearly don’t want to… ah… engage in marital duties with me.” I felt a renewed flush of shame as I recalled his repulsion in the bedchamber and lifted my chin to hide it. I could hurt later, when I was safely alone. “And now that you know about my condition…”

Aric stopped walking. He swung his head to look at me, his expression as unreadable as a stone wall.

-I don’t see how your condition has any impact on whether we divorce.-

My heart gave a strange hitch. “You don’t?”

-Why should it?-

My parents’ voices echoed in my head. The same words I’d heard almost daily since my flares began. Don’t show anyone your flaws. Don’t let them see your failure. If they learn of your weakness, they’ll use it against you, and then they’ll cut you down.

“Because I’m weak. Too weak to rule by your side.” Too weak to be my parents’ heir.

His tone darkened. - Do you think so little of me?-

“What do you mean?”

-You left your country and family behind for a marriage you never asked for, just to keep the peace. You risked your life to save mine, and now you’re risking it again to protect a land that isn’t even your home. And on top of that, you’re clearly in pain and should be in bed under the care of a greenwitch, not making yourself worse by riding through the cold, but you’re determined to push on anyway for the sake of your people. Most people would simply give up, yet you’ve never wavered. Only a monster would think a woman like that was weak.-

My parents did. And I had never thought of them as monstrous—had always believed the rest of the world would see me and my condition the same way, as a flaw that could be exploited. The other noble Houses of Damaria would certainly think the same if they found out. Why shouldn’t everyone else? That was the only reality I’d ever known.

“I am weak, though,” I protested. “I’m slowing us down.”

-Would you say someone with a broken arm was weak for not using it?-

“That’s different.”

-How?-

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Part of me insisted that he was wrong, but I couldn’t find the words to explain myself. Not when another, smaller part whispered, with a voice I’d never heard before, that perhaps he could be right.

-Strength isn’t about what your body can do,- Aric went on. - It’s about how you respond to adversity. And I’ve never known someone so determined to do the right thing, no matter the personal cost.-

Heat was creeping up my cheeks. Surely that wasn’t admiration in his words—he didn’t even like me. “But you said I should have told you about my condition.”

-Not so that I could cast you aside, Bianca. So that I could be cognizant of your needs.- His tone was still heightened—with annoyance, but it didn’t feel directed at me. - So that I could help. -

I stiffened, wary again. “Help how?”

-My hours in the library haven’t been spent on storybooks. I’ve read quite extensively about various ailments of the body, among other things.-

His pace had picked up, mirroring my tension.

“I don’t need you to fix me.” My words were clipped, as sharp as a horse’s shoes striking slate. Memories of a dozen apothecaries endlessly prodding and poking me as if I were a malfunctioning clock. Each of them trying fruitlessly to determine how I was broken. Losing interest when it became clear that while my condition never became worse, it never got better, either.

-I didn’t mean to imply otherwise,- Aric said. - I just thought that if possible, you would prefer not to be in pain.-

His tail flicked my shins. He’d gone rigid again. If he were in human form, he would be avoiding my eyes and flushing.

But wait. I was the one who should be on edge here. Why would he…

Oh. For the first time, I realized his behavior might not stem from arrogance as I’d assumed. The blushing, the stilted words… It suddenly occurred to me that Aric wasn’t cold, but nervous. He’d mentioned his dislike of courtly maneuvering. Perhaps he thought every word he said to me would be misconstrued. And so far I had largely proved him right.

I forced my shoulders to ease their tense line. I’d been treating this marriage like a fencing match, but it was possible that I was the only one holding a weapon.

“I would,” I admitted. “I would much prefer that.”

Aric relaxed enough that I could feel it, both mentally and physically. Another truce.

I couldn’t quite trust it. I’d spent nearly half my life believing that to let my condition show was to fail. But Aric had seen past my defenses, and he’d neither struck me down nor cast me aside. Instead, he’d offered me a hand up.

“If you were to help,” I said finally, my throat tight, “what would you need to know?”

Aric’s relief felt like drinking Julieta’s ginger tea. I realized as I tasted it that we’d both expected me to refuse.

-Well. We could start with the most basic details. When did it begin? Were you born with it?-

I shook my head. “It started when I was about fifteen…”

We rode on, Aric questioning and me answering as best I could. The information he sought was diverse in scope: Times of day when my flares arrived. Things that made my symptoms improve or worsen. What precisely the tonics did, and why I could only take so much at a time. Whether my ailment corresponded with the moon, the weather, my cycle, my meals. I hadn’t realized I was paying attention to such things, and yet, as he questioned me, the answers came readily.

And more notably, as Aric questioned me, he relaxed. It was like watching an early spring sunrise, dark and cold at the start, with a slow unfurling into warmth. When he spoke of topics he found interesting instead of making stiff courtesies, Aric felt like a different man altogether from the icy opponent I’d met in the ballroom. A truer, gentler version of himself.

Even though we were clearly incompatible in the physical sense—and not only because he was currently a horse—perhaps this marriage hadn’t been a terrible match after all.

The thought caught me by surprise, yet it felt like a truth. A truth, however, that lingered only a few moments, like a butterfly sipping at nectar, before flitting out of my grasp. We weren’t on this journey to play at courtship. We were heading to Damaria because I had accidentally turned Aric into a horse on our wedding night and someone had framed me for his murder. We were together for only as long as it took to undo the curse and expose whoever wanted us dead.

And despite Aric’s openness, despite the fact that he hadn’t struck me down, I couldn’t entirely drop my unease. The echoes of my parents’ whispers lingered in my ears, telling me that I was only baring my heart to a waiting blade. And though I wanted to ignore them, I’d heard the words too many times to be certain they weren’t true, that the sword wasn’t ready to fall.