So he had said that surely there was someone in her family who would help her. She had said they did not support her intention of becoming a soldier, because her older brother already had taken that path. And they believed that she was so softhearted, it was best for her to become a healer, instead.
So he had said that a softhearted girl would be better off tending to the sick and injured instead of fighting. She had said that she wanted to become a soldier to prevent harm from ever coming to anybody, and she could not imagine anything more softhearted than using her own body to protect those she loved.
There she had defeated him. So he had finally confessed that his name was not written in the books, and that it was against Kothan law for her to even speak with him.
Only criminals’ names were expunged from the books. So she’d looked at him warily then, grip tightening on her sword. Her eyes had narrowed, and she’d tilted her head, studying him.
“You are hardly older than I am,” she’d said. “What have you done? Have you killed someone?”
Better if he had. That might have been forgivable. “I did not die when I should have.”
He hadn’t needed to explain. His white hair spoke for him, and she was clever enough to understand that he was the king’s son, but his mother was not the queen. So if he had died at birth, it would have been more convenient for everyone.
But he hadn’t. And never would he forget how her wariness had vanished, how she’d smiled and said that they were both what their parents did not wish them to be. Then she’d asked for his name.
Only once had he ever heard it spoken, when his mother had whispered it into his ear. Never had Aerax said it himself. Yet he did then, for he could not deny her.
“Aerax,” she had repeated boldly—and smiled while again extending a sword to him. “Will you help me practice?”
Of course he would. From that moment, Aerax would have done anything for her. He would have ripped out his own heart for her.
And he had. Years later, to save her—he had.
Now she was here. Protecting the caravan, no doubt. For that was who Lizzan was. Who she would always be. The brightest, most beautiful jewel that Koth had ever produced, with the softest heart and the bravest soul. Aerax had not deserved the happiness of a single moment she’d spent with him, let alone the years she’d given, along with the joy of every kiss and every touch. And he did not deserve to see her again.
Yet as a prince, even a feral one, he often got what he didn’t deserve.
CHAPTER 3
LIZZAN
Snake. They had chosen snake for supper.
With the heavy carcass of a tree boa slung around her shoulders, Lizzan trudged onto the road where the caravan had made camp. They had stopped early, and at a location less than ideal for an overnight stay—there was no easy distance to a stream and, instead of circling their caravan in a clearing, the long train of wagons and carts was vulnerable to anything that might come out of the jungle.
But they could have gone no farther. Less than a sprint away, a herd of helmeted onks sprawled across the road and foraged through the ferns on either side. The brightly plumed reptiles usually gave passing humans no mind, but more young were among them this time of year. Charging onks had been known to smash carts and wagons to pieces—and to crush the people in them.
Just as they crushed all else in their path . . . such as the head of a slow-crawling boa. So that instead of hunting a snake, Lizzan had merely found one, but the result was the same. She carried the boa to Mevida’s camp, where she heaved it off her shoulders to flop over the side of the wagon, flattened head dripping. Hastily she averted her eyes from the creature. No snakes lived as far north as Koth, and although Lizzan admitted they were good for eating, she couldn’t see them as anything other than a giant, squirming gutworm. So she would not look at it again until it was chunks in a stew.
A large pot already bubbled over the nearby fire. Many members of the caravan were gathering around, settling in for the night ahead—which Lizzan knew from experience would mean plenty of talking and laughing.