ETAN

Borsche watched Ayleth start down the trail, her slippers crunching on the pebbles there, then he turned to Etan, rage and fear in his eyes. “You will stay here and you will not move for at least half an hour. And when you do return, you’ll approach the Hall from the other end of the castle. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Borsche, I do,” he said.

Borsche gave one sharp nod then turned on his heel. But Etan called him back.

“Borsche, please…”

The older man stopped, then turned to face him, his face tight with anger.

Etan swallowed “Thank you for… for thinking ahead,” he said. “I owe you a great debt.”

Borsche stared at him a minute, then turned and walked back to him. “Do all of us a good turn, Etan. Prioritize your people—including those like me—before you consider your prick.”

Etan ran a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t—”

“Yes. You were,” Borsche said and stalked off after Ayleth.

Etan dropped his elbows to his knees and put his face in his hands. His body still throbbed with desire for Ayleth, but the events had definitely taken the edge off his fire. But it looked like he had at least half an hour to sit here and figure out how he was going to avoid letting anything like this happen again.

He didn’t want to avoid Ayleth. He didn’t want to not touch Ayleth when he had the chance. But this… Borsche was right. This was going too far. It was too risky. And if they were caught, it wasn’t just him that would pay the price. It wasn’t just Ayleth, either. They had to look at this as future rulers, rather than lovers. Hopefully, she saw that now, too.

He would talk to her at training in the morning.

But that didn’t solve the problem of what they would do. His drive to be near her, to protect her, to touch her was like nothing he’d ever experienced. As instinctive as breathing. He couldn’t imagine a day without seeing her, let alone another week—and even if they made it to the Peace Accord, and even if they could convince their parents to allow the union, it was unlikely they would be married quickly. Both their Kingdoms would need to negotiate contracts. And the celebration alone would take months to plan.

And that was if the entire situation didn’t dissolve into outright war.

Of course, if it did, he would simply take Ayleth to wife.

Assuming she wasn’t taken from him.

His mind flashed then, on the story he’d heard about the attempt his father had made to abduct the Princess years earlier. He hadn’t been party to those conversations, had been too young to be consulted on such a secret task.

Now, of course, he would never support his parent’s decision to do such a thing. But at the time his father’s primary advisor had been one of the Baelyn. They’d since discovered that man’s sorcery made Ayleth’s mother look like a child’s nursery rhyme. But at the time, he’d been a trusted advisor, capable of seeing ahead and offering wisdom they had thought could only come from the Father of Winds.

How wrong they had been.

He gave praise to the Father that the attempt on Ayleth had been unsuccessful, though it had rocked the Summitran Court, and cemented the rift that now existed between the two nations.

And it had made his beautiful wife-to-be fierce, and determined. He could not fault the Father on how it was used. He must consider that the plan, Father’s plan, would work just as perfectly for their union. Even if it did end in war…

Etan groaned and raked his hands through his hair. At least the thought of war made his body stand down.

He would take his mercies where he found them.

It occurred to him then that he was to approach the ballroom from the other end of the castle. And that would mean making sure he got across the vast estate without being seen. With a sigh, he got to his feet—realized he was still half-dressed, and growled at himself for dangerous levels of distraction. After rebuttoning and tucking his shirt, he picked up his jacket and slid it over his arms then started for the path.

A flash at the edge of his vision made him freeze, the hair standing up on the back of his neck.

Slowly, slowly he reached for the blade in his boot, slowing his breathing so he couldn’t hear it. But waiting and listening for minutes revealed nothing. Then when he finally stepped forward—blade in hand—two night-doves startled from a tree near the path and he sighed with relief.

Shaking his head at his own taut nerves, he started in the opposite direction to the castle. There was a gate at the end of the garden that would lead him back to the castle wall. It would take a while, but he was less likely to run into anyone of importance outside the halls, than within them.

Ten minutes later he had looped back into one of the main gardens that he knew grew right up to the walls of the castle when he heard a tiny shriek.

Sounded like he wasn’t the only Lord who’d ventured into the gardens with a friend tonight. But the woman didn’t sound pleased about it.

Crashing through the hedge so whoever had hands on her would hear him coming and hopefully let her go, he came upon the back of a brunette woman sitting on the ground, her skirts spread behind her like she’d fallen, bent over and clutching her ankle under her skirts.

“What happened?” he asked without introduction, quickly circling the small clearing, looking for a fleeing Lord, but there was no sound or sign of another nearby.

“Please don’t be concerned. I only fell.”

Then he turned to find the Princess, Sarya Playn, staring up at him, looking sheepish and, if the moonlight wasn’t playing tricks on his eyes, cheeks flushed red.

“Sarya?!”

“Hello, Etan. I’m so embarrassed,” she said covering her face with her hands.

“What happened?” He hurried to her side, offering a hand which she took without meeting his eyes and let him pull her to her feet, though she was hopping slightly. “Can you walk?”

“I do not know. Give me a moment. I think I just twisted it…” She said, her lips twisting as she gingerly put weight on the leg. Etan kept hold of her hand in case she were to fall again. After a moment she took one step, then another, limping, but nodding to herself. “Yes, I can walk. Thank you. I’m so sorry. I didn’t meant to… I didn’t mean for you to know…” she trailed off miserably.

“You shouldn’t be out here in the dark. Especially not alone…”

Then it hit him: He was in the garden at night with a female Heir. If anyone were to find them, they would expected to marry. His eyes snapped to hers, and she looked up at him apologetically. “Sarya, what are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and hard.