them. Do you want to get away for a while?”
“Away?”
“Past the walls.”
He glances toward the window. “Is it safe?”
I laugh at the ridiculous question. “Of course not.”
He sets the book aside. “Where would we go?”
“We’ll sneak into the stables, borrow a few horses. We’ll ride into the forest.”
“Is there a way through the forest?” The prince casts another skeptical look toward the window, frowning at the sea of dead trees—or, more likely, at the fire bracken that blankets the ground.
“You’re here, aren’t you?” I point out. “There’s obviously a way through.”
“Will you get in trouble if your family discovers you’re missing?”
“Yes, quite a bit.”
He turns his head back to face me, trying to hide a smile. “They’ll hang me if they catch us together.”
The idea goes up in a puff of smoke as I realize he’s right. I throw myself into a chair, sulking. It’s one thing to put my neck on the line—it’s another to put his.
Braeton walks across the room, kneeling in front of me, just as he did not long ago. “I find it encouraging that you care about my wellbeing.”
“Father is partial to beheadings,” I say listlessly, tapping my finger to his forehead. “You look better with your head attached.”
He looks down, laughing under his breath. His light blond hair falls across his brow, making him look young.
“How old are you?” I ask suddenly.
“Twenty-three.”
“We’re the same age,” I say. “What month were you born?”
“Azrilain.”
I sit up from my slouch and lean forward. “As was I.”
He narrows his eyes, but it doesn’t hide his amusement. “What day of the month?”
“The twelfth.”
“Same.”
I laugh, swatting his arm. “You were not.”
“I was—my sister and I both.”
The smile leaves my face. I had momentarily forgotten that Braeton and his sister are twins.
“But Amalia was born second, so technically”—Braeton presses a hand to his chest—"I am the eldest.”
“I have a twin too,” I whisper.
That catches his attention. Carefully, Braeton says, “Same year, same month, same day? And you’re a twin?”
I nod. “It’s strange, isn’t it?”
“A bit, yes.”
“Do you think it means something?” Then, feeling oddly daring, I lean forward, raising my brows as I tease, “Perhaps I’m destined for you.”
I’m about to sit back, but Braeton catches my chin, holding me in place. He smiles, his light brown eyes warm and friendly. “You shouldn’t say such things unless you mean them.”
His hand is warm against my skin, and I want to lean into him like a cat. Somehow, I refrain, but it’s not a simple task.
Instead, I meet his eyes, searching them with my own. “Who says I don’t?”
Braeton studies me for all of two seconds before he shifts closer, grasping the arm of the chair with his free hand and rising until he stands above my seat, towering over me.
I sit back, pressing my shoulders into the cushion. My heart races, and I try to control my breathing so he won’t see how he’s affecting me.
“Cassia,” he says softly.
Hearing my name on his lips makes me melt, but my reaction scares me. I can’t deny it—I’ve developed feelings for Braeton.
“Hypothetically speaking, if I were to go with you as an ambassador…or prisoner…or whatever it is you have in mind, would you promise to help my people? If I set you free, would you swear to take me with you?”
Braeton straightens abruptly, nearly making me groan with disappointment. He shoves a hand through his thick, sandy hair. “Do you mean it?”
“If I say it, I usually mean it—even if I try to take it back later. But I haven’t agreed to anything yet. We’re just…discussing it.”
“What changed your mind?”
“I didn’t—”
“What made you think about it?”
I stand, needing to pace to think.
“The Chasm was created because our kingdoms couldn’t make amends, correct? How will my father’s wicked plan right that wrong? I keep thinking that if we want to heal the curse, we must first heal our alliance. Abandoning our kingdom can’t be the answer.” I look down, studying the floor. “And maybe it was Draegan’s fault, and that’s why the fae felt we needed to be punished.”
A thick, heavy silence blankets the room. After several long moments, Braeton laughs.
I cross my arms, startled by his reaction.
The prince steps forward, waiting for me to meet his eyes. Once I give in, he gives me an incredulous look. “Prisoner?”
Trying not to smile, I shrug.
“I like ambassador better.”
I brush an imaginary hair behind my shoulder on habit. “It has a nicer ring to it.”
“If you release me, I will do everything in my power to