his lips into a flat line, curious where this is going. Then he says, “I believe I’m trustworthy.”
Before I can talk myself out of it, I pull my dagger from its sheath and offer it to him.
He gives the blade an incredulous look before meeting my eyes. “You know, giving weapons to prisoners is usually frowned upon, perhaps even more so than showing them secret tunnels that lead out of their rooms.”
“And refusing a weapon when one is offered to you is usually considered foolish.”
Braeton takes the blade, studying it. Then he tries to hand it back. “I can’t accept this.”
I frown, refusing to take it. “Why not?”
“I’ve done a lot of reading, and I happen to be familiar with many of Draegan’s historical customs.” He gives me a crooked grin, something bordering on flirtatious. “I believe I’m supposed to give you a dagger.”
My heart forgets how to beat, and a breathy laugh escapes me before I clamp my lips together. Once I’ve recovered from the shock, I say, “That’s not…I mean, that’s not what I’m insinuating.”
Braeton’s amused expression becomes solemn, and he takes my hand, pressing the hilt into my palm. “I am grateful for the offer, princess, but I would prefer you keep this at your side. Just in case you need it.”
“That’s very gallant of you,” I say. “And a bit stupid.”
He shrugs. “If it would make you feel better, find something else for me. Don’t disarm yourself to protect me.”
I stare at him, genuinely confused. “I don’t understand. You’re Renovian. Aren’t you supposed to be…awful?”
The prince laughs, looking delighted. He takes a step closer. “And you’re Draeganish—aren’t you supposed to be heartless?”
We study each other in the lamplight for so long, my pulse begins to quicken.
“I should go,” I say softly.
Braeton nods.
“I’ll be back tomorrow.” I pause. “If that’s all right?”
He bows his head. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”
Before I step into the passage, I set the dagger on the floor.
“You’re a difficult girl, aren’t you?” Braeton says, sounding amused.
I flash him a smile over my shoulder and slip behind the tapestry.
15
We’re leaving in the morning, and my mind keeps me awake most of the night as I think about the weeks to come.
I’m going into Draegan. Who would have thought such a thing could be possible?
Something else bothers me: Gage. He’ll try to stop me; I know he will. But how can I leave without saying goodbye?
And my parents—what will they do when they find out what I’ve done? Maybe I should let Rhys and his men go alone, run back to the safety of the castle. But this feels like something I must do.
Worse…it’s something I want to do.
I’m terrified, yes, but I want to be the first to see Braeton again. I want him to know that I didn’t give up—that I was strong, as I promised.
Ember snuffles in her sleep, and I roll over, trying to get comfortable.
After tossing and turning for what feels like half the night, I leave my bed, wincing when a board creaks under my bare feet as I tiptoe from the room.
Rhys’s men are scattered throughout the manor, but Rhys has kept the room next to mine. His door is half-open, and no light flickers from within. I pause outside, rethinking the wisdom in waking him when there are others in the house.
Deciding to take the risk, I slip inside, wanting to speak with him alone for the first time since the forest. His men are always there, in the way…and likely in his head. He’s different around them—a leader, aloof and distant.
“Rhys?” I whisper softly, hoping he’s awake.
He shifts and then clears his throat. In a groggy, mostly asleep voice, he asks, “What is it?”
“Nothing,” I whisper, closing the door behind me. “I can’t sleep. I keep thinking of Draegan.”
Without the meager light from the hall, it’s too dark to see him. The covers rustle, telling me he’s leaving the bed.
“You don’t have to do this,” he says when he’s in front of me. “You know I would prefer you stay here. Gage will be with you—you won’t be alone.”
“Gage isn’t you.”
The words linger between us, causing the air to thicken.
When Rhys doesn’t answer, I add, “And what about Rupert? He’s watching us—you know he is. He’ll know when you leave me.”
“Go home,” Rhys says softly, shifting close enough I can feel the heat of him in the dark. “Go back to the castle, where you are safe. You know Braeton is alive now—you’re not