“I hate children.” The woman’s face is perfectly serious when she answers.

Stig lets out a fit of giggles. “You and me both, Aunt Deria!”

Deria quickly downs the remaining alcohol in her glass and clears her throat. “So, if you’re the son of Vaskis and Idalia the daughter of Ivar, that means you’re the infamous gods-cursed children.”

“Here in the flesh,” Braizen says and lifts his glass. He turns to Stig, who’s gnawing on an apple core. “Now there’s a good title for a song. ‘The Gods-Cursed Children!’”

“You’ve traveled together all this time and haven’t touched? Not once?” Deria fans herself with one hand. “My, that must’ve been hard!”

My face flushes. What is it with these Aeradians and their curiosity? I clear my throat and try to sound nonchalant. “Why would it be hard? We kept our distance, for the most part. Besides, it’s not like I want to touch him.”

Braizen looks up from his plate, flashes me an unreadable look, then goes back to eating.

“Well, of course not!” Deria exclaims with a breathy chuckle. “A Verdanian and Baellilean wanting to do anything together is unheard of. Let alone desiring each other’s touch! I only meant to say, traveling through the Florian Wood with an added challenge? Good gods, the two of you must’ve come close!” She fans herself faster.

Braizen stares down at his plate.

“Have you tried wearing gloves?” Deria asks plainly.

The Prince and I both snap up our heads and gape at her.

“You’ve never thought of that? Does the curse even work if something is between you? A cloth of some kind, something thick and sturdy?” She glances between us.

Braizen retches and struggles to swallow. I stammer a bit before I manage to answer. “With our Kingdoms on the line, it’s not worth finding out.”

“She’s right,” Braizen agrees. “Especially when neither of us wants to touch each other anyway.” Deria chuckles and reaches yet again for her decanter of orange poison.

“The two of you sound just like me and husband number three. Or was it number five?”

I hang my head and shake with laughter. Something within forces me to peek through my lashes at Braizen.

He’s staring at me intently.

He’s not laughing.

“And I’m telling you, the red will look best,” Teddy states.

The gown in question is positively….salacious. Its bodice is tight, and the neckline plunges down the entire front to the navel. “There’s no way I’m wearing that tonight,” I say, flapping my hand.

“Why not? It’s gorgeous! And perfectly vermillion!” Teddy presses the gown against my chest. “Trust me; you want to be wearing Aeradian colors tonight. Everyone will be.”

I push the gown away and pull at the ends of my braid.

“I just… It’s getting colder each night. That’s hardly enough to cover me.”