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Ahnna tilted her head, shock giving way to rage that this gutter pig of a man would dare to lay hands on her. Her hand balled into a fist, and she turned, already swinging.

Only to find empty space where Jasper had once been, because the man was already sailing through the air to land with a crash on the neighboring table. Men cursed and barmaids screamed, glassware shattering every which way as a black-clad figure picked up Jasper by his shirt and slammed him back down on the table. “You dare to lay hands on a lady?”

James.

“I didn’t know!” Jasper squealed, trying to pull free from James’s grasp. “She ain’t dressed like a lady!”

James only slammed him down again. Ahnna moved to intervene, because she could bloody well handle her own fistfights, but the broken-nose man had picked up a chair.

“I don’t think so,” she snarled, grabbing him by his greasy hair and bouncing his head off a table. Only to see the third man swing at her from her periphery.

Ahnna ducked, hearing a growl of fury, and then James’s fist connected with the third man’s head. He dropped, out cold, but now more men were throwing themselves into the fray.

A red-haired woman with breasts the size of wine casks shrieked a string of curses and tried to slap Ahnna, but she sidestepped the drunken swipe and punched the woman in the throat. Only for a chair to slam against her back.

Hissing in pain, Ahnna picked up a broken piece of the chair and cracked the man who’d hit her across the head, then hit another man who tried to punch her with a blow to the stomach.

“Stop, you fools!” The barkeep was standing on his bar, screaming at the top of his lungs. “It’s Prince James! Stop, you cursed idiots—you’re fighting with the king’s son!”

At first, Ahnna was convinced that veins were running too thick with ale and anger to hear, but a handful of level heads seemed to register his pleas, calming their fellows. The bartender pointed a finger at James, who stood half a head taller than any man in the room. “It’s Prince James!”

“King’s bastard,” she heard more than a few mutter, which was either brave or stupid, in her opinion, because James had come out of the melee uninjured while groaning figures lay on the ground all around him.

The barkeep’s finger moved to her. “And that ass you slapped, Jasper? It belongs to the goddamned princess of Ithicana. Be glad it was our good prince who knocked you flat, for if Ithicana’s king caught word his sister was so abused, he would cut off the offending hand and mail it to your mother!”

Aren would do no such thing, but it was a well-worded threat, so Ahnna let it stand. Her gaze moved to James, who looked so furious that he might start another brawl just to spend the emotion. Instead, he pulled some coins from his pocket and slapped them on the bar. “For the damages.” Then his amber eyes fixed on Ahnna. “We’re leaving. Now.”

There was only one man alive she took orders from, and her brother wasn’t here. Yet as she looked around at the mess of tables, broken glasses, and spilled drinks, Ahnna allowed reason to hold sway over her pride. Shrugging, she picked her way through the mess, taking up a bottle of whiskey as she passed the bar, then headed out the door of the Fabled Flask.

James’s boots made heavy thuds down the steps after her. “Have you lost your bloody mind? You have no business being out on your own at this hour, much less in an establishment like this!”

Pride once again took over, because she was Ahnna Kertell, and she went where she fucking wanted to go. Scowling, she crossed the street toward another alehouse.

“Where are you going?” James demanded.

“I never got my drink.” She tried stepping around mounds of horse shit, but it was everywhere, so she gave up. “Nor my conversation.”

“You are to return to Fernleigh immediately, Your Highness.”

Ahnna snorted softly, watching him stomp angrily through the shit out of the corner of her eye. “You are neither my king nor my father, which means you don’t have any authority over me, Your Highness. ”

She could feel frustration seething from him, but Ahnna didn’t care. He had no grounds for ordering her about, especially given she’d have been reasonable if he hadn’t spoken to her as though she were a child. He didn’t have to agree with her choices, but he did need to treat her like a grown woman when criticizing them.

“You are a lady, Ahnna,” James hissed, stepping into her path. “There are certain standards of behavior expected from you, and this is not it. You will return with me to Fernleigh this minute!”

“I’m not a lady.” She sidestepped him, taking a mouthful from the neck of the bottle. “And if you want me to return, either ask me nicely or make me. Because ordering me about will get you nowhere.”

“Fine.”

Instead of asking her nicely, as Ahnna had expected, James’s hand closed around her arm. Before she could say a word, he flung her over his shoulder. A squawk of protest tore from her lips, but he ignored it. His shoulder pressed against her hips as he draped one arm around the back of her thighs and started up the street.

“By all means, wiggle,” he said. “I’ll be sure to drop you in the largest pile of horse sh—” He shook his head. “The largest pile of manure I can find.”

“Asshole,” she growled, debating whether the indignity of being dumped into a pile of shit would be worth kneeing him in the ribs.

“You aren’t the first to say so.”

“Put me down!”

“No.” His arm tightened around the back of her thighs. Shockingly close to the ass he’d just violently defended, and Ahnna wondered if he realized it as he added, “If you’re going to act like a child, I’m going to treat you like one.”

“Does that mean I’m to be spanked twice tonight?”

She’d thought that the suggestion would so deeply offend his sense of propriety that he’d put her down, but instead James said, “Don’t tempt me.”

Ahnna’s entire core tightened, but she managed to say, “You’d make quite the scene.”

James scoffed. “It’s going to take more than this to gain attention in Sableton’s tenderloin. Which is exactly why you shouldn’t be here.”

It was a hard point to argue. Everyone spilling in and out of the taverns, inns, and brothels looked drunk, or well on their way to becoming so, the noise of music and laughter deafening. Prostitutes propositioned potential customers from windows and balconies, but in the alleys, she saw those who worked the streets engaged in various acts that made her cheeks color. A man shouting “Thief” chased a young boy up the street, and no fewer than four fistfights broke out by the time they’d reached the edge of the district and James set her down.

“What were you doing in the tenderloin?” he asked. In the light of the streetlamp, she saw that the sleeve of his coat was torn from the brawl.

“I wanted to speak with the people without them knowing who I was,” she said. “I wanted to hear their concerns. At least, that was my plan until you picked a fight with them.”

“He laid hands on you. He’s lucky I let him live.” James’s eyes narrowed. “What concerns?”

She debated telling the truth, then thought better of it and said, “About anything. A good ruler listens to her people.”

“I don’t disagree, but rulers don’t venture out alone.”

“I didn’t think you would agree to me venturing out at all, in your company or otherwise, so I did not bother asking.”

James exhaled. “It’s not appropriate for us to be alone together, much less in the tenderloin at night.”

Yet they were alone now. Ahnna knew the rules unwed noblewomen were held to in Harendell. Safeguards so that their purity would never be called into question, but to hold her to those rules seemed asinine. Her claim to purity had set sail when she was fifteen in a fumbling encounter with Aren’s friend Gorrick, who’d afterward begged her not to tell her brother.

That was always how it was. Wine and desire would trump good sense, but afterward, the men would always beg her discretion, terrified of what Aren would do if he learned they’d been fucking his sister in the bunkhouse. They’d either ignore her or refuse to meet her eye afterward, which had made her heart ache so badly that she’d stopped having encounters years ago, what desires she felt satisfied only by her own hand.

Absolutely none of which she intended to admit to James, so she only shrugged.

“How did you get past the guards?”

“It wasn’t hard,” she said. “If they were under my command, they’d be disciplined because if I could leave so easily, then anyone with half a mind to enter would have no difficulty.”

“And I would discipline them if not for the fact that it would necessitate admitting that you’d left unattended.”

“I assume they’ll figure that out when we walk in the front gate.”

“For the sake of your reputation, we’ll go back in the same way you came out.” He hesitated, then added, “I understand that you are not used to these limitations, Your Highness. That they seem foolish and biased against your sex. However, railing against me will get you nowhere, because they’re not my rules, and while I am sympathetic, the queen will be nothing of the sort. You already have the odds of gaining her favor stacked against you by virtue of you being Ithicanian, and everything you do that reminds her of that fact will be a reason for her to make your life miserable.”

He gestured for her to start walking in the direction of Fernleigh, and Ahnna did so without argument, because it struck her then that he spoke not just of her situation but also of his own. “I’ve heard of her reputation,” she said, not certain whether this was a conversation she should start.

“Every bit of it is deserved.” His tone shut down any further questions she might have had.

They walked in silence, it not taking long for them to reach the portion of the wall she’d climbed over. “Here,” she said. “Then through the maze and up the trellis to my window.” She knew she should apologize, but instead, Ahnna said, “I’m fine from here. You don’t need to lower yourself to climbing in the back window.”

“A good attempt,” he muttered. “But I’m not that easily duped. I’ll see you inside your room, and then I’ll post a guard beneath it.”

Any desire to apologize evaporated. “It’s not a trick. I just don’t need to be tucked in a second time tonight.”

“No, but I might need to tie you to the bed to keep you from further foolish pursuits.”

Ahnna’s cheeks flushed at the sudden vision of how that might go, and as if realizing what he’d said, James pressed fingers to his temple. “Your single greatest skill seems to be driving me to madness. No more discussion. I’m taking you back to the house, and that’s the end of it.”

Ahnna only nodded, words escaping her.

James jumped and took hold of the top of the wall, lifting himself until he was looking over. He remained in that position, watching, then heaved himself up so that he was sitting atop the wall. Reaching down, he offered her his hand, barely visible in the darkness. “Leave the whiskey.”

Gripping the bottle tightly, she jumped and caught his hand, allowing him to pull her atop the wall. Though his size spoke to considerable strength, it still shocked her how easily he lifted her. As though she weighed no more than tiny Hazel. It was no wonder he’d knocked those men in the bar unconscious with one blow. Realizing she was staring at him, she said, “You should really learn to say please, ” took a mouthful of the whiskey, then dropped to the soft turf below. Without waiting for a response, she bolted to the entrance of the maze, hearing James’s curse of annoyance as he followed her.

The maze remained as brightly lit as it had been when she’d traversed it before. Retracing her route, Ahnna lifted the bottle of whiskey to take a small mouthful, intending to discard the rest, for she could feel the faint buzzing of the alcohol in her veins. As she did, Ahnna saw smears of blood on the bottle and her fingers.

Frowning, she examined her hands. Except for a small scrape on her right knuckles, which hadn’t bled, she had no injuries.

“Are you hurt?” she demanded, rounding on James, who strode a few paces behind her. “You’re bleeding, because this blood isn’t mine.”

“It’s nothing.”

Hissing between her teeth at the stubbornness of men, for she knew well how they’d let nothing turn to rot and rot to a cold corpse in a grave. “Let me see.”

“It’s fine,” he protested, but she’d already caught hold of the hand he’d used to pull her atop the wall, blood glistening crimson on his pale skin. “James,” she growled, “you have glass stuck in your knuckles.”

“I’ll pull it out before I retire to bed.”

Huffing out an aggrieved breath, Ahnna tugged him to the center of the maze, then pushed him down on the bench next to the fountain. Water sprayed from the top, then poured down a series of tiered basins, the noise loud enough to drown out her curse as she held the injury up to the lamplight. Sloshing some of the whiskey on her hands, she then poured some on the sharp shard of glass embedded between his first and second knuckles. “This is going to bleed a lot. Will need stitches.”

“I’ll have one of the servants look at it.”

“I’ll do it,” she grumbled. “It’s my fault.”

Retrieving her kit from where it was stored in a pouch attached to her belt, she extracted a needle and length of gut thread. “Old habit,” she said before he could ask the question of why she had such supplies on her person. “I was raised primarily by my grandmother, my father’s mother, who is Ithicana’s most accomplished healer. She made me learn the arts while I lived with her. If you ever find yourself in need, I’m quite accomplished at delivering babies.”

“Seems unlikely, but if I find myself with child, I’ll keep the offer in mind.”

Smiling, she pinched the edge of the glass and eased it loose, then used more of the whiskey to rinse away the blood until she was certain no more shards remained.

“What of your mother?”

“What of her?” Ahnna’s jaw tightened by reflex, and she bent closer to the injury to hide her reaction.

“You didn’t reside with her?”

Ahnna laughed softly. “Hardly. All her time was for Ithicana and the bridge. Having children was a duty she had to fulfill as queen, and once she’d done so, she wanted little enough to do with us. With me, most especially, because she preferred my brother’s way of thinking. My value came from how I served Aren and as a bargaining chip in her dreams for Ithicana.”

“Dreams?”

Nightmares, in Ahnna’s opinion, but she said, “She hated how isolated we were. Desired to open our borders so that our people could live more like those in Harendell and Maridrina. Aren was, and is, like-minded.”

“Is that why your people stopped wearing masks at Northwatch?”

“In part, I suppose.” She hesitated, then said, “I never asked him. Only obeyed the directive.”

Ahnna waited for James to ask whether she supported the change, but he said, “Were you close with your father?”

“No. He loved my mother so much, there was nothing left over for anyone else,” she answered, threading the needle. “And he died for it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago.” Ahnna turned his hand into the light, holding the wound closed as she carefully began to stitch. His palms were callused from soldiering, but his nails were trimmed and clean, the two things feeling at odds with each other. They well represented the dichotomy that was James, the exterior he presented not quite concealing the man she suspected lurked beneath. “They weren’t cruel by any stretch of the imagination, and I was given every privilege. It’s just…” Ahnna sighed. “She did her duty because she had to, not because she wanted to.”

“A ruler needs an heir.” His breath was warm against her cheek as she worked. “It’s the way of it.”

“I know.” She knotted the last stitch, cutting the thread with her knife. “But knowing your mother bore you because she had to is a burden I wouldn’t wish upon any child. All children deserve to be wanted, and I’ll never—” Ahnna broke off, shaking her head. “Whiskey makes me say foolish things.”

“It’s not foolish,” he murmured, and Ahnna lifted her face to meet his gaze, the lamplight illuminating his amber eyes. Making them look like they burned from within. “You’re not like I expected you to be, Ahnna Kertell.”

“Much less ladylike, I assume.” She broke their shared gaze, then unknotted the cravat tied at his throat, slowly pulling loose the fabric, abruptly aware of the distance between them.

Or the lack thereof.

“No, I expected that,” he answered as she fastened the fabric around his hand, knotting it. “Expected you to be willful and obstinate. Violent and wild. What I did not expect was compassion.”

There was something in his voice that made her chest clench, and Ahnna said, “You don’t seem happy with the discovery.”

James lifted his bandaged hand, catching hold of her cheek and lifting her face so that she was looking at him. “I’m not,” he said, and she leaned closer so as not to miss any of his words. “Because it makes everything so much harder.”

And then he lowered his face and kissed her.

Ahnna should have been shocked. Horrified at the transgression. But she wasn’t.

Something in her, deep and primal, had felt this coming. The culmination of the tension that had sung between them from the moment she’d knocked him off the side of the ship. And that part had Ahnna wrapping her arms around James’s neck, not resisting as he pulled her onto his lap.

His bandaged hand pressed against the small of her back, tongue in her mouth, the taste of him making her ache for so much more. For everything.

And then he jerked away.

“Shit!” He rose, lifting her as he did, only to set her down on her feet with such force that Ahnna stumbled backward. “Fucking hell!”

She pressed her fingers to her lips, still feeling the sensation of his kiss, watching as he paced up and down the small clearing at the center of the maze. James had kissed her. James, who only ever made proper choices, had kissed her. And God help her, but that kiss had burned into her soul in a way she hadn’t dreamed possible.

Then reality reared its head.

Ahnna twisted to look toward the distant manor, searching for any lights. Any sign that anyone had been watching.

That they’d been seen.

Was that a curtain moving? Or a trick of shadows?

“This was a mistake.”

Ahnna pivoted back around to find James no longer pacing, his eyes fixed on her. “I know,” she said. “I—”

“Why are you here, Ahnna?” he interrupted. “Do not lie and say that any part of life in Harendell appeals to you. You can’t follow the rules for one night, and they will soon be forced upon you like manacles, but you mean to tell me you are ready for a lifetime of this? Go home. Go back to Ithicana, where you belong. Because not only are you not wanted in Harendell, but this kingdom is going to eat you alive if you stay.”

Hurt flooded her chest, only for anger to rise in her heart’s defense. “I am here because my mother gave her word. Because I gave my word. And your father had every opportunity to negotiate for something other than me, and he chose not to. So perhaps ask yourself whether this is a matter of me not being wanted, or of you wanting something well beyond your reach.”

Shoving past him, Ahnna wove through the maze. Only some vestige of self-preservation stopped her at the edge of it to allow a yawning guard to walk past. When he was gone, she moved between the shadows of the statues, then scaled the trellis and climbed into the open window of her room.

Latching the pane shut, she closed the drapes and donned the nightgown, carefully replacing her clothing in the wardrobe. Climbing into bed, Ahnna pulled the blankets up to her chin. Only then did she lose control of the floodgates holding her panic in check.

What have you done? her conscience screamed. You fucking fool!

Ahnna shoved her fist into her mouth and tried to silence her gasping breaths, the sobs that kept threatening to tear loose.

She’d come here to save Ithicana, and in one moment of lust, she’d jeopardized everything. All it would take was one word of her transgression from James to his father, and she’d be sent home in disgrace. In her mind’s eye, Ahnna saw herself walking onto the pier at Northwatch, forced to admit that every bit of suffering that would come during storm season would be her fault. Because she’d kissed the wrong prince. Wanted the wrong prince.

Felt something for the wrong prince.

Ahnna drowned in her terror, in the wild hammer of her heart and the roar of her pulse, breathing so rapidly the room spun around her. Then, bit by bit, she pulled herself back from the edge.

“He might not tell,” she whispered. “It was his mistake, too.”

Not only are you not wanted in Harendell, but this kingdom is going to eat you alive if you stay. James’s voice echoed in her thoughts, but this time, the sentiment didn’t fill her with hurt. It filled her with defiance.

Because she fully intended to prove him wrong.