She should have laughed, but the laugh died in her throat at the thought of the conversation that was coming. Leaving him to puzzle over her words, she went back to her rooms to try to get warm.

And to unclasp Count Alain’s necklace from her throat so she could throw it into the fire.

Chapter 12

Prince Phillip had traveled to Perceforest at his father’s request. Go and meet our neighbor, King Stefan. See if you can interest him in trade. I understand that he needs soldiers for his army and that he possesses a large quantity of gold.

For his part, Phillip was pleased to be on an adventure. He had never before been in a place where no one knew him and where he was unburdened from all the expectations of being Ulstead’s future king. Of course, he had gotten instantly lost in the woods. He’d spent the first night sleeping under the stars and the whole second day wandering. The trees grew too thick for him to see the horizon and get his bearings. The ground was covered in shallow pools and patches of sucking mud that made the way treacherous for his horse.

And then he’d spotted Aurora in her blue gown, gesturing wildly at nothing as she rehearsed a speech she was intending to give her aunties.

Hopping down from his horse, he’d thought first of getting directions. He was a little worried about being laughed at and very relieved to see another person. But the closer he got, the more fascinated he became. Not just by the roses in her cheeks or the shy sweetness of her smile or the way she seemed to belong to the woods, like some sort of sprite. There was something in her face that spoke of mischief—and kindness.

In Phillip’s life, there had been precious little of either.

Aurora had been surprised by him, clearly not thinking there was anyone nearby. She’d startled and slipped. He’d caught her hand before she fell, and at her touch, he’d felt as though he’d been kicked in the chest.

For a moment, he’d been unable to breathe.

So he had remained in Perceforest, through the death of King Stefan. Through Aurora’s being crowned and the bright summer’s fading into autumn.

He’d remained even though he had been unable to wake her. He hadn’t loved her enough, he knew. They’d only just met.

He hadn’t loved her then like he loved her now.

Every few weeks he had gotten another letter from his mother and had sent back excuses. But when the latest one had come directly from the hand of a messenger, he knew he had run out of ways to prolong his visit. He took it from his pocket now, looking it over in the moonlight.

Dear Phillip,