I start, and look up at the voice to see Lady Tarroux peeking her round face out of a decadent passing carriage draped on the sides with gold-plated eyes of Kavar. A long caravan precedes her, each bed bursting to the brim with trunks and bags and furniture. Guards flank the procession, their swords ready and their faces grim. There must be fifty of them—their ranks bolstered by heavily armored mercenaries.

“Good afternoon, Lady Tarroux.” I smile. “Where are you off to with all your things?”

Her eyes are downcast. “Helkyris. Father couldn’t wait a day longer to leave.”

My lungs deflate. “I see.” There’s a pause, and then, “Do you want me to kidnap you? I’m very good at crime.”

The worry in her gaze falters with her soft laugh. “That would be so lovely. But I’m afraid Father would miss me if I were gone.”

“Isn’t he worried about attacks on the road?” I ask. “The war is in full swing.”

She motions all around her to the mercenaries. “Father’s spared no expense. We’ll be fine, I think.”

“Surely,” I agree with a small laugh. “By the looks of it, he’s hired a small army.”

She laughs, too, though it sounds sad. “I’m sorry, Lady Zera. I feel as if we’ve just become friends, and I’m abandoning you.”

I smile brightly at her. “You’ll be back. The war might be over sooner than you think, and you’ll come right back here and marry Lucien.”

It doesn’t hurt to say it as much anymore. Maybe I’m getting used to the idea. Finally.

“How—” she squeaks, her cheeks going red. “How do you know that?”

“Call it a…vision.” I smile. “Sent to me from the New God.”

Her blush fades, and then her face lights up. “Oh! I just remembered.”

I watch her rummage around inside her carriage for something, before she leans out the window and hands it to me. “Here. Please give this to Prince Lucien. He was asking after it, and I’d hate to leave without giving it to him.”

I look down at my palm to see a carefully folded paper. “Do you mind?”

Tarroux shakes her head. “Not at all.”

I unfold it and read: it’s a picture-guide to a certain sewing technique. I quirk a brow up at her. “What’s this?”

“Oh, well.” Tarroux goes red again. “The prince asked me to teach him to sew.”

I blink. “Sewing? He asked you to teach him?”

Her blush fades only marginally as she looks up. “Yes. He said he wanted to make a gift for someone, and so I obliged.” She suddenly bows her head, bobbed hair sweeping over her shoulder as she blurts, “I’m sorry, Lady Zera! I know you are his Spring Bride! I didn’t mean to have such feelings while there is a connection between you and His Highness!”