“I realize that. You’re brilliant,” he said with a smile. She looked at the edges, waiting to see it for false, but it wasn’t there. “I watched you flying and in battle. I have never met a woman such as yourself. If you’d permit, I would like to get to know you more, my lady.”

“I thought that you didn’t care about me,” she said, anger returning to her voice. How dare he treat her like trash and threaten her people, only to try to court her favor.

“Can’t we do this in a way that’s more agreeable?” he asked, stepping forward. “You are as fierce and deadly and beautiful as a nightshade. Truly, I am besotted, Lady Argon. We are to be joined. It does not have to be unpleasant.”

She swallowed and watched herself swimming in his blue irises. How easy it would be to love this man if he were anyone else. He had spoken the words to entrap her, not understanding that he had already lost every single ounce of her goodwill at a party on Geivhrea.

But she had taken strategy classes in her government courses the last year. They had taught her all the history and philosophy of modern warfare. Perhaps what was happening with March was no different. A new sort of war. And if she wanted to win, to keep herself from being weak ever again, then she had one job. Convince him that she wanted this too.

Slowly, she released her anger and looked to the ground and then up at him through dark lashes. All the coquettish lessons she’d suffered through with Darby coming in handy.

“Maybe it could work out,” she said softly. “I would like that.”

His smile only brightened. And then to her shock, he grasped her around the waist and planted a firm kiss on her lips. She gasped, and he took advantage of the opportunity to slide his tongue in and meet hers. Every instinct in her body told her to escape, to scramble away. Instead, she went loose as jelly in his embrace and told her mind she could endure one kiss to get away from him forever.

Cheers and catcalls and whistles rose up from the army all around them. The Bryonican soldiers seeing exactly what they wanted. Their general planting one on his intended, their future lady. Maybe their future queen.

He released her slowly, a lustful smile on his pretty lips. She staggered backward with a forced laugh.

“I shall see you at the spring Season,” he called out to her as she fled. “Then, we will discuss wedding dates.”

The crowd cheered louder. She had to keep the embarrassed smile on her face for ages. It wasn’t until she was safely ensconced in her own tent that she let it slip, and anger covered everything else. She would beat March at his own game. She would bury him before this was over.