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So many things were raging in Evrardin’s mind when an annoying woman slid up beside him. He looked at the bane of his existence with something akin to wistfulness.

She peered back, her head tilted and smiled. “I thought we could go into town today.”

“Did you now?”

She nodded and rolled on the balls of her feet as they stood in the library.

“Since when did these escapades become a way to entertain yourself instead of training?” His voice was low as he spoke.

“I never said we wouldn’t train.” Mara led the way out of the library having flipped through every book she needed for the day. The sun was setting and cast a warm ray of watercolors on the floorboards through the stained-glass windows.

“It’s too dangerous.”

She scoffed. “I’m not a child, you know. I can handle going into town.”

Evrardin sighed dramatically and Mara tried to hide her smirk. “It’s not about that, Princess. If someone were to recognize you… Or one of the other guards saw us leaving…”

“You’re the captain, though. Are you not?”

“They are sworn to the crown. Not me.”

Mara bit her lip, trekking back to her apartments, Ev at her side. They both seemed willing to pretend that night in Evrardin’s room never occurred because neither of them brought it up. Mara almost seemed too talkative in the library, describing in detail every tiny thing she was doing, as if she could cover the embarrassing fact that she let him kiss her with her ramblings. And neither addressed the hard-hitting question Mara posed aggressively to Evrardin right before she parted.

When they finally got to her rooms, Mara slipped in and urged Evrardin to follow her.

Mara dug through her wardrobe and pulled out a plain brown cloak, thin enough for a summer night. She turned to Evrardin and swung it around her neck in theatrics, then pulled up her hood. “Unrecognizable,” she mused.

Evrardin shook his head.

“And don’t act like you don’t know a discreet way out of the castle. I saw you coming back that one night. You were nowhere near the gates.” Mara blushed and Evrardin remembered how he stared up at her in her thin nightgown.

He gritted his teeth.

“Come on! How else am I supposed to learn the ways of true common living if I am forced to stay behind these walls? You complain about my brattiness, yet you do nothing to fix it.”

“I could think of a few ways to fix it,” he mumbled to himself. When she didn’t respond, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Fine. But we’re only staying for training, then we’re to come right back.”

Mara nodded and mock saluted him. “Yes, Captain.”

This was not the best timing for Evrardin to be leaving the grounds, but he agreed with Mara, it might do her some good to see what more Solstrale had to offer other than this decrepit, soul-sucking castle.

Evrardin led her to the catacombs even though it pained him to enter that room, knowing his friend wouldn’t be inside waiting.

He led her down a side corridor that Evrardin used to exit the castle frequently. Mara stumbled behind him, fumbling in the dark. Evrardin had the layout memorized and could walk it in his sleep. Mara, on the other hand, was sticking her arms out like feelers trying to navigate after him. She tripped over a loose stone and stumbled forward. “Shit,” she cursed. “Wait up.” Urgency laced in her voice.

Evrardin took pity on her, only a few steps away. She let out a breathless gasp as he gripped her hand in his much larger, calloused one, directing her out of the castle.

When they made it under the moonlight and into the graveyard, Evrardin dropped her hand, and she wiped hers on her skirts as if just touching him was somehow tainting her. He flexed his fingers in response before looking back at Mara. “So mysterious,” she teased.

“Keep running that mouth and I’ll take us right back.”

Mara pursed her lips. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

Evrardin was a bit surprised by her submissiveness. She must really want to go into town. Someone like her had seen gaudy and beautiful places before. Dalhurst was sure to disappoint.

The captain was all too aware of the questions Mara was sure to ask him, so to avoid such annoyances, he strolled ahead of her, using his longer legs to his advantage. He could hear her stumble, trying to keep up with him as he led the way down the dirt road to Dalhurst.

“Do you go into town often?” she asked, slightly out of breath.

Evrardin grunted.

“Is that a yes?”

“I’m shocked you’re not able to decipher my grunts by now.”

Mara managed to match his stride, clearly walking much faster than her natural gait. “Is this place special to you or something?”

Evrardin glanced sidelong at her, raising a brow in question.

“I only mean, you seem to avoid talking about your excursions in Dalhurst. And you clearly didn’t want to take me here.”

“None of that means I have some sentimental reason for doing so.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Have I been known to answer your questions?” he said with a bit more spite than he meant.

Mara huffed and began to walk slowly so she trekked behind him again.

When they finally reached town, Mara smiled brightly as if she wasn’t facing an impoverished town, the air mangy and filled with thieving and impecunious peasants.

She took in her surroundings animatedly, trailing the cobblestone buildings and dripping candles lit in the windows. People passed by, not taking notice of either of them as they were swept away in their own worlds.

Loud rustling and out-of-tune music pooled from a tavern door as a woman stumbled out. Mara grinned at her and tilted her head to get a look into the bar before the door closed.

“Can we go in?” she asked.

He stared at the lone woman. “No. We’re not here to socialize.”

“But—”

“Evrardin,” the plump woman spoke as she approached the two of them.

Evrardin’s jaw clenched, refusing to look at Mara. He could feel Mara glancing between the two of them as the woman came under the moon’s light. She had on a simple brown dress, the corset pulled tight, her chest billowing at the top. Her curls were pulled back in a chignon, tendrils falling out in loose loops. She was rather pretty, and with the attitude she exuded just by existing, he figured Mara would agree with him.

“Gwen,” Ev replied to her, his words terse.

“Oh, are you in one of those moods where you pretend like you don’t want to see me?” She laughed, her finger reaching out and falling down the front of Evrardin’s shirt. He stood still, not uttering a word in response. His eyes finally flickered over to Mara. “Oh. You’re with another girl, then.” Gwen seemed displeased as she gave Mara a once-over and turned her nose in disapproval. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Let’s go,” Ev spoke flatly in Mara’s direction. Evrardin grabbed Mara’s hand and dragged her away from the bustling tavern entrance.

“I’ll be here when you get sick of her,” Gwen snickered. Mara turned to look at her as Ev pulled her along. Gwen smiled and gave Mara a little condescending wave.

Evrardin didn’t let go of Mara’s palm until they reached the stable, a few horses inside the hay-filled pens. The stable master nodded at Evrardin from behind his newspaper as they went inside.

“We can train here,” he told her.

“Who was that?” Mara asked, ignoring Evrardin’s words.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Why don’t you want to tell me?”

“She’s a barmaid,” he snarled.

Mara bit her lips before her eyes darted to Evrardin’s. “ Oh ,” she muttered in the realization that Evrardin and Gwen’s past wasn’t exactly tasteful.

Evrardin turned away from her and strolled to the back of the stables where the floor transitioned to dirt. Mara hesitantly followed close behind.

He slid off his sword. “What? Are you jealous?” he harshly teased.

Mara bit the inside of her cheek, throwing her cloak to the side and shifting to her fighting stance.

Evrardin swallowed, Mara’s eyes hard to see in the faint light, but he could still tell the way they glassed over. She was jealous.

Evrardin’s shook his head as he tried to focus back on training. This just painted another reason why nothing could ever happen between the two of them. He wasn’t a good man. He would make her nothing but miserable. So instead of reassuring her he had never been intimate with Gwen, he let her believe her own conclusion. He did not owe it to her to clarify. They were nothing to one another.

Evrardin darted toward Mara, his hands going for her hips like they so often did when they practiced. If he knew one thing about Acastus, it was that he didn’t know how to fight. If he was to attack Mara, he’d go for her waist or arms first.

Mara tried to sidestep him, but he was faster. He hooked an arm around her waist and she began to hit his chest with her fists. “Let me go!”

It took him a moment, caught in a bit of incredulousness, before he dropped his hands and Mara stumbled back. She tripped over her own feet and fell to the ground.

Evrardin reached out to give her a hand, but she refused. She stood, brushing her legs off before realizing she had fallen into a pile of horse shit.

“Gods,” she moaned. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Evrardin would have found her impolite speech humorous if she didn’t look like she was on the verge of real tears. “Mara,” he said without any real thought of where his sentence was going.

She hid her face from him and grabbed her cloak. “Let’s just go. This was a stupid idea.”

Evrardin was certain she was jealous, but with the way her voice wavered, he figured something else must have been bothering her to be quite this upset. And he didn’t take her for the kind of girl who would cry from dirtying her skirts.

She stormed out of the stable and onto the dimly lit street.

“Wait,” Evrardin called after her. He scooped his sword up and hastily slid it around his waist before stumbling to follow her.

She stopped, much to his surprise, and he almost tumbled into her. She turned to face him, the tears he thought he had seen welling in her eyes now a vacant expression.

He scanned her face before speaking slowly. “Let’s get you cleaned up before we head back.” Her eyes almost seemed hopeful and Evrardin impulsively squashed it. “If you show up with horse shit on your dress, that’s sure to raise the suspicion of your handmaidens.”

“Right,” Mara mumbled as if she had originally thought he was offering to fix this for other reasons.

She followed behind him like his shadow. They were back in front of the tavern from earlier and he hoped they wouldn’t see Gwen again. He did always find her eagerness quite irritating.

Evrardin held the door open, and Mara hesitantly stepped into the hustle of moving bodies. Drunkards laughed and sang all around her. Her eyes twinkled. But the smile didn’t form on her lips.

She waited patiently, studying the room, her hands clasped in front of her as Evrardin talked to the bartender.

“Evening,” a deep voice spoke beside her. Evrardin’s eyes flashed over to her, grinding his teeth as he waited for Bhedam.

Her mouth parted as she turned to the stranger. He was a man, probably in his thirties, his brown hair unkempt. His clothes were dirty, from working he presumed.

The captain thought he heard him ask to buy her a drink. Ev waited irritatingly for her response.

Mara stuttered on her words. “Oh. I don’t think…” Her eyes darted over to Evrardin who stared at his hands, making it seem like he wasn’t listening. “Actually, yes. I would love a drink.”

The man got a pint from one of the barmaids. He leaned back against the bar and handed the ale to Mara. She took it in her fingers, sipping it, then peered at him from over her rim.

“Can’t say I’ve seen you before,” the man began. “What’s your name?”

Evrardin leaned against the bartop, his body slowly simmering. He had the urge to tear Mara away from that man, but he knew he had no good reason. Bhedam spoke before the captain could hear Mara’s response. “Here ya are,” Bhedam said, sliding Evrardin a key to a room.

“Thanks,” Ev mumbled, looking back at Mara whose face was flushed a pretty shade of red.

A man behind her stumbled as he drunkenly danced, almost falling into her. But the man shamelessly flirting with her reached out and pulled her against his chest, watching as the man crashed backward, passing out on the floor.

“You all right?” he asked.

She looked up at him, flustered, and Evrardin hated the way another man’s arms wrapped around her. He seemed too keen on clutching her body to his, his fingers digging into her arm and threatening to leave bruises. Mara winced.

Evrardin didn’t hear what Bhedam said as he shoved through the few bodies that separated him and the princess, the stranger’s arm immediately darting away from Mara’s body, holding his hands in the air in defeat. Mara turned her head, Evrardin standing right behind her with a deathly regard in his eyes. “Unless you don’t mind losing them, I recommend you keep your hands to yourself,” he said quietly.

The man backed away. “Shit, not trying to start any trouble here.”

Mara turned to Ev and he had to pry his eyes away from the challenge. His gaze softened, but only slightly.

“Come on—got us a room,” he all but growled.

She swallowed in embarrassment at the implication of his words. She looked back at the rambunctious crowd wistfully before leaving her drink on the countertop and going up the stairs, following Evrardin to one of the rooms. “Did you defend my honor because Acastus commanded it of you?” she asked quietly.

“No.” Fuck .

She wiped her hands on her skirts. “Why was that man so afraid of you?” she asked.

It took him several moments to respond. “I have a… reputation around here.” he begrudgingly told her.

“What sort of reputation?”

“Mara,” he warned.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll just go back down and ask around?—”

He grunted in annoyance. “I frequent the fighting ring.”

“You fight?” she scoffed. “What? For money?”

He nodded.

“And I’m assuming you often win if he was that afraid by just your presence.”

Evrardin didn’t answer but she seemed to infer what he meant.

“We’d make a good team,” she mumbled under her breath.

He glanced at her in confusion.

“Oh, I… I liked to go into town back in Wrens Reach and bet on matches. And I got pretty good at winning.”

His lips almost curved in amusement. Of course Mara snuck her way into seedy taverns to watch fights. And of course she was good at picking winners. His chest tightened at the idea of her watching him fight—of her cheering him on.

She stepped through the threshold of the room and Evrardin set the candle he was holding down. The room had a few others lit and it created a warm glow on the floorboards. The noise from downstairs could still be heard but it was far fainter.

There was a basin of water before the small bed and Evrardin nodded toward it. Mara quietly approached the steel bowl, setting her cloak on the bed before reaching to undo the straps of her dress.

Evrardin cleared his throat. “I’ll be right outside.”

Before he could close the door, Mara stopped him. “Wait.” He turned to her and she flushed. “I…My dress.” She spun so he could see the way her fingers couldn’t reach the back ties. “My handmaidens usually…” Her voice trailed off.

Evrardin nodded. “Right,” he said agitated, like this was just another instance of her being spoiled rotten—she couldn’t even remove her dress by herself.

He strolled over to her and brushed his fingers against hers before taking over. His fingers buzzed as they worked.

He should not be stood in an inn, alone with his prince’s betrothed, taking her dress off of all things, all while she was assumed to be tucked safely in her bed back at Kairth.

He quickly undid the ties for her and exited the room before she could say anything more. He leaned his back against the door of the room, itching to go downstairs and have a drink. “Bloody hell,” he mumbled to himself. He had grown so used to contempt and spite, he hated these flux of new feelings Mara was stirring from him. It sat uncomfortably heavy in his chest.

He just needed to get her out of his system. But he couldn’t do that. She was forbidden fruit. Maybe if he found Gwen… No. He shook his head at the idea and brushed his hand down his face in irritation. The thought of being with someone other than Mara didn’t give him that spark he was continuously chasing every time he was with her.

“Fuck.” He was fucked. He closed his eyes and pressed the back of his head against the door. She was becoming too much. It wasn’t her fault, though. It was Evrardin’s.

“Okay.” He heard her faint voice from behind the wooden door after several minutes of torture.

He entered the room again and Mara stood in her dress, the back damp, but free of horse shit. She turned from him shyly, exposing her olive skin behind the untied laces. His mouth ran dry as he came up from behind and began to redo them. He tried not to notice the freckles spread across her skin, or the way her body moved like she was trying to control her breathing. And he definitely tried to avoid looking at her exposed neck, her hair pulled over her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she muttered.

He hadn’t known her to speak so softly around him and it made him feel guilty. Like he had done something wrong.

They stood at just the right angle so that Evrardin could see Mara’s face in the full-length mirror across the small room. She had closed her eyes, her fingers squeezing together as his faintly brushed her back while he tied up the loose laces, gooseflesh pilling across her shoulders.

When he was done, he refocused on her hands and noticed a strange coloring on the tips of her fingers.

She turned to face him, and his eyes had narrowed in on her, shocking her out of her bashfulness.

“What happened to your hand?” he asked assertively.

Mara’s hands quickly went behind her back. “Nothing.”

Evrardin looked over her shoulder and in the mirror. Her fingers laced together but he could see the black smudged on one hand. He reached for her arm, but she pulled away. “Let me see.”

She shook her head, backing up.

He trailed her, his footsteps matching each of hers. “Mara,” he growled.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” she sputtered.

“That’s for me to decide.” He closed in on her and she gulped.

“Evrardin, please,” she begged.

He reached out to force her hand in his, wanting to inspect it.

With wide eyes, she stumbled away as he closed the distance, falling back. She should have collided with the mirror behind her—trapping her—but instead, she fell through the silver glass.