They moved out of the way of the other skiers on the lift, and Jaya realized they were still holding hands. They both wore thick gloves, but she swore she could feel his body heat seeping through. Grey seemed to realize what they were doing at the same time she did, and he pulled his hand from hers as if it were on fire.

“So,” Jaya said, attempting to lighten the mood a bit. Maybe if she seemed approachable, it’d be easier for him to tell her what, exactly, was going on with him. “Are you a fellow bunny-slope skier, or do you like the black diamond stuff?”

“Bunny slope’s fine.” He turned to her, his ski goggles pushed up on his head, his expression a smidgeon more open. “Thanks for doing this. Skiing, giving me time.” He paused. “Not getting me expelled.”

“It’s obvious there’s something really bothering you, Grey,” Jaya said. “And no, it’s not okay that you were going through my things, looking for my pendant. But right now I’m more interested in what you’re hiding. Because whatever it is, it looks like it’s making you ill.” She stopped, a little amazed at this burst of honesty from herself. There was something about the way he was looking at her, though, that called for it. As if he was so tired of hiding whatever it was he was hiding. As if he was on the precipice of telling the truth, if simply to unburden himself. It was a sentiment Jaya found herself identifying with. Subterfuge hadn’t been nearly as easy on her conscience as she’d hoped.

Grey paled slightly at her words, then slid his ski goggles on. “Let’s ski,” he said quietly.

Jaya nodded and slid her own goggles on. She was so close to answers, she could taste them on the air like snow.

They made their way past the other skiers, all of their faces red beneath their ski goggles. The pathway was lit up brightly with overhead lights, and the slope was gentle and easy.

“There are quite a few young children here,” Jaya commented, adjusting her ski pole. “That’s a bit embarrassing.”

Grey kept his voice light as he said, “You don’t care what people think of you, do you?”

Jaya studied him under the night lighting. Shadows fell under his blue eyes but didn’t dim their shine. His full mouth was set in a hard line despite the levity of his tone. “Actually, I do. I care very much.”

“Why?”

“I’m a royal,” Jaya said. “Reputation is half—if not more—of what we do. If people don’t feel they can trust us, that we’re… better than them, in some way, they’re not happy. And if they’re not happy, we can’t lead the way we’re meant to. Surely you know what I mean, being a duke’s son.”