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He gives her a begrudging nod just as the door to the lab opens.

“Steiner, we need to talk about those fertilized dragon eggs,” Andor says as he steps in. He comes to a halt when he sees me. “What’s going on? Brynla, are you all right?”

He strides over to me while Solla and Steiner quickly exit the lab, shutting us inside, and Andor puts his hands on my shoulders. “Why are you out of bed? What happened?” His eyes search mine, completely oblivious.

For a moment I can barely speak. The hurt is too much; my emotions have already been at such a high level that I’m having a hard time pulling myself together.

Finally I say, “I overheard you and your father arguing.”

His expression falls slightly. He knows what I’m about to say.

“I heard what was said about the princess,” I go on. “About the woman you’re going to marry. The woman that…isn’t me.” It pains me even more to say that last bit, to even admit that I think it should be me.

Fuck, how did I fall for this man so hard and so fast?

“Brynla,” he says, his grip tightening on my shoulders. “I’m not marrying her.”

“I heard your father. That this is your one and only duty. I heard your uncle tell you that you’re jeopardizing your relationship with her. Relationship, Andor. You never even told me…”

I look away, the anger I felt earlier turning into something more pliable, into a hurt that sinks in deep and makes my chest feel hollow.

“I’m not marrying her,” he says again. “Yes, I was promised to her but it was a promise I never made. I never agreed to it. It was decided for me by my father, by my uncle, and by the king of Norland. I’ve never had any intention in following through.”

“And yet they still think you did.”

“Because they don’t know how to take no for an answer.”

A coal of anger begins to simmer inside. “You never told me. At any point that we’ve known each other, you could have told me. You could have said you were betrothed to someone else. Instead you kept it a secret.”

“Which I know was wrong of me,” he says imploringly. “But you have to believe me when I say that I didn’t spend any time thinking about the betrothal. Not even a little. The idea of their stupid bargain disappeared the moment I laid eyes on you.”

I want to believe him. I think I believe him.

But it doesn’t stop me from feeling betrayed, from feeling sick that this was going on, something huge that was kept from me.

Even if Andor had forgotten, his family sure hadn’t.

His father sounded livid. They certainly believed that Andor will follow through, or they did until today.

And all this time I really was just a pawn for their syndikat, a toy to be used and tossed away while he marries into royalty.

How could I have thought anything else? As he told me last night, his life has been one of privilege and mine has been of pain.

He’s part of one of the most powerful and prestigious families in Norland, if not the world, and I am a poor Eslander who’s been scraping by for most of her life.

“Brynla,” he says again, his hands cupping my face now, his palms warm.

He stares deeply into my eyes, forcing me to look into their amber depths, to take in his sincerity.

“I care about you. A great deal. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone.

And that might not seem like much coming from someone like me, but believe me…

I didn’t think I had it in me. I didn’t think I could… ”

He trails off, licking his lips. “Please, just know that this whole marriage isn’t happening.

I don’t want it, and I’m pretty sure the princess doesn’t want it either.

It’s just a thing our families do here, but today I made it clear that I won’t be a part of it.

No matter what. Didn’t you hear that part of the conversation? ”

I shake my head, though his hands still grip me in place. “I left.”

He nods, taking that in. Then he kisses me, hard and quick, enough to put my emotions back into a spin.

He breaks away and rests his forehead against mine. “They know where I stand,” he says. “But I don’t think you do.”

I stare at his lips, feeling too many things bubbling up inside me. Grief, fear, desire, comfort, need—and hope. It always comes down to hope with him.

“So tell me,” I whisper, knowing I’m putting my heart on the line by asking for it. “Tell me where you stand.”

He takes in a deep breath and runs his thumb over my lips.

“I stand where you stand. And you stand at the forefront of my life. Everything else falls to the wayside. Every thought, every feeling, it revolves around you, like you’ve embedded yourself under my skin, deep enough that I couldn’t get you out even if I tried.

And it has been killing me this last week that I can’t reach you, can’t push away your pain, can’t make it all go away, make it better.

I know it’s selfish of me to think like that, but it’s true. ”

“I know,” I say softly. “I’m sorry that—”

“No. You have nothing to be sorry for. Never with me. You are grieving and I will continue to do what I can to make you feel that you’re not alone. I just wish…I just want…”

“What?”

“What I really want more than anything is to matter to you. To be something to you, to be everything to you.” He pauses, swallowing hard. “I want to be your better tomorrow.”

My eyes fall closed, my heart tumbling in my chest at his words.

“I want that too,” I whisper.

Which is why this whole thing has caught me off guard. Hope can be such a dangerous thing when it’s all you have left.

“Then let me,” he says, running his hands through my hair. “Let me be your better tomorrow. Let me be whatever it is that you need me to be. Please.”

I find myself nodding. I should be making him grovel for keeping secrets, but I’m so emotionally wiped that I can’t seem to find the strength to keep being angry.

“There are no other secrets you’re hiding from me?” I ask. “No secret children you have somewhere?”

He laughs. “Goddesses, no.” Then he pauses and looks me over. “We need to get you something warm to wear.”

“I’m fine,” I say.

“Not where I’m taking you,” he says. “Stay here.”

He lets go of me and walks to the door, shutting it behind him. I have no idea what he’s talking about or where he’s taking me, but when he returns he’s got my pants, boots, socks, and a large heavy coat in his arms.

“Put these on,” he says.

“Why? I’m not that cold.” I take the pants and pull them on, then kick off my slippers and put on the socks, which are made of thick wool and a little too big. I have to hike them up to my knees.

“Those are mine,” Andor says. “Don’t worry, freshly laundered.”

I slip on my boots next while he puts the coat on me, and then he grabs my hand and leads me out the back door of Steiner’s lab, into the garden.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask, but he doesn’t say anything. The morning air is warm, though the breeze carries a hint of crispness, as if hinting at a change in seasons, but the coat is already too warm.

“You’ll see,” he says as we walk through the rows of plants and greenhouses, then through the chicken yard, where the birds scatter in all directions.

When we get to the cook’s vegetable garden at the end of the east wing, vines growing up the dark stone sides of the castle, Steiner suddenly appears holding on to the reins of a very large black horse with a long flowing mane and tail.

Probably the biggest horse I’ve ever seen and standing with such poise, it immediately reminds me of the ones bred for the Black Guard of Esland.

“We’re going riding?” I ask, surprised.

“Hope you’re all right with sharing a horse,” Andor says as we step over the low veggie garden fence. “Unless you know how to ride.”

“I’ve never ridden one before,” I admit. “We had a donkey when I was young, but he was too ornery to mount.”

“I bet you still tried, though,” he says with a smile.

“Of course. I spent the whole first month we had that donkey getting bucked off into the sand. Finally, he took a big chunk out of my arm and my father pulled me aside to tell me it was one challenge I should probably let go.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he comments as he takes the reins from Steiner. “Thanks,” he says to him. “I doubt Father will notice I’m missing, but if he does just tell him I went to check the fences or something.”

“Are you checking the fences?” Steiner asks.

Andor gives him a steady look. “You can lie, just this once.”

Steiner sighs and then steps into the cook’s garden and back to his lab.

“What fences?” I ask Andor as he softly strokes the horse’s muzzle.

“Whenever I need to clear my head I say I’m checking the fences. We have some fields to the south where we let the cows loose in the summer months. I rarely make my way down there; I just want a chance to be alone.”

“So we’re not going to check the fences?” To be honest, that sounds thrilling enough. Not only have I never been on horseback, but the idea of roaming the fields among the cows seems like something out of a dream.

“We’re going somewhere much better,” he says. “My way of making things up to you. Now come, I’ll hoist you into the saddle. Don’t worry about Onyx, he can take our weight. He was raised to be a battle horse, though it’s been a while since we saw war. He’s certainly never seen it.”

He leans over and puts his hands down and together like a step.

Gingerly I place my boot on them and he hoists me up.

I scramble, grabbing the horse’s generous mane while trying to gracelessly flip my legs over his back and sit upright in the saddle, feeling chagrined that I’m not automatically a natural at riding.

“There you go,” Andor says. “Wrap the reins around your three middle fingers and weave them between your thumb and pinky.” I do so, holding the soft leather in each hand while he somehow swings himself up behind me, as effortlessly as if he were sliding into bed.

“Show-off,” I comment under my breath. Then I gasp as he moves so that I’m pushed up by his thighs and I’m practically in his lap.

The horse begins to shift to the side and Andor puts his arms around me to keep my balance, curling his fingers over mine as he holds the reins too. “Comfortable?” he asks. “It’s a long ride.”

I nod. “You’re still not going to tell me where we’re going?”

“You wouldn’t know anyway. Just trust me. Let me do all the work.”

I can’t help but smirk at that. He definitely did all the work this morning and last night.

He clucks his tongue and Onyx starts to walk forward. We’re only a few strides away from the front of the castle when suddenly Lemi shifts beside us.

The horse rears and I cry out, Andor leaning forward to keep me bracketed in between the horse’s neck and himself until we’re level.

“At least you stayed on that time,” Andor remarks.

Lemi wags his tail, somehow knowing I was about to embark somewhere without him, and seems to treat the horse like a large dog, sniffing at the horse’s fetlocks as Onyx moves sideways.

“Lemi,” I scold him. “You’re being too forward.”

Lemi’s ears twitch as he eyes me and then the horse before he sits down next to us, waiting patiently.

“All right, let’s go,” Andor says, and the horse starts at a brisk walk, Lemi trotting beside us, as we head away from Stormglen.