pulls me away from the door and into the darkest corner.
I’m just about to toss the tray on the ground, knowing the clatter will bring Devin running, when Braeton whispers into my ear, “Are you safe?”
His voice is laced with relief and…more. There’s affection there that I’ve never in my life heard directed at me. For several seconds, I freeze.
Taking advantage of my confusion, the prince tugs the tray from my hands. He carelessly sets it on the nearby table before yanking me into his arms. He holds me tightly, with one arm around my waist and a hand protectively curled at the back of my neck. His stubble scratches against my jaw as he ducks his head in close, clinging to me like I’m precious.
I’m so thoroughly stupefied I don’t even reach for my dagger.
Suddenly, Braeton jerks back, moving his hands to my cheeks. His face is close as he searches my eyes, but it’s so dark, I can barely make out more than basic features.
“Did they hurt you?” he demands at a whisper.
“Did who hurt me?” I ask, bewildered. “And why would you care?”
“Don’t say that,” he begs, his fingers caressing my cheeks. “I love you—don’t doubt it, not ever.”
I blink at the man several times before I finally realize what this is about. His hands are hot with fever.
I’m oddly disappointed—which is a ridiculous emotion that makes little sense.
But it is what it is.
“You have the sickness,” I remind him, gently pulling his hands from my face, hoping not to agitate him further. “I’m not who you think I am.”
The prince shakes his head as if something is at the edge of his consciousness, and he’s trying to clear the fog. “Sickness?”
Though I’m hesitant to touch him, I place a hand to his forehead. “You’re burning up.”
“Cassia?” he asks, sounding as if he’s suddenly not certain.
Morbidly pleased he remembers, I nod. “That’s right.”
“I’ve let you down,” he says, and his voice is thick with remorse. “I’m sorry we were captured.”
He’s not with me, not really. He remembers my name, but that’s all.
Steering him toward the bed, I humor him. “When we were caught?”
As if he’s worried about my sanity, he carefully says, “In Renove, just after Glenford. I wanted to show you the Forest of Firelight. I should have been more cautious.”
He’s taller than I am by a mere three or four inches and not as muscular as my brothers. I could probably take him if he became hostile.
“It’s all right,” I assure him as I press on his shoulders, coaxing him to sit.
Unfortunately, before I can step away, he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me onto his lap. He’s feverish against me, too warm even through his clothes.
“We’re going to escape here, Cassia, just the two of us. I will take you back to Renove and make you my queen.”
Was the prince traveling with a girl? Tryndon didn’t mention it. He was on his Requeamare—a convenient Renovian tradition that played right into our hands. I suppose he could have met someone before we abducted him.
Now he thinks I am her. And sadly, it’s not entirely unpleasant being the center of this sort of attention—which shows what a dull, unromantic life I’ve lived in my nightmare-riddled kingdom.
Even Tryndon has been in love. But not me. Besides an unrequited girlish longing I’ve long carried for one of Rhys’s knights, I haven’t even been close—and I’m not sure one-sided love counts.
“Don’t worry over it now,” I tell Braeton, extracting myself from his arms—almost laughing at the absurd situation I’ve found myself in. “You need to eat.”
The prince grasps my arm before I can step away. “The rats sing beyond the windows at night. They beg me to come out and play. Why do they do that? Who do you think taught the rats to sing?”
I suddenly shiver. Those aren’t rats singing, nor is it a hallucination.
“When did you first hear it?” I demand, needing the dazed prince to come to his senses.
“They called for me to open the windows, but I can’t work the latch.”
“NO!” I grasp the prince’s head in my hands, making him look at me. “Listen to me. You must never open the window. It’s dangerous, do you understand?”
He goes still. “You smell like lilacs.”
“Braeton, you must promise me—promise you won’t open the window for anyone or anything.”
“I haven’t smelled flowers since I left Renove.”
“Braeton!”
His mouth turns down in a frown. “I don’t know what you look like. How can that be? I