There was a stone path in front of the doorway, so I took that as quickly as my aching muscles would move. I wasn’t sure if Rysden or anyone else was following me, so I had to keep moving. I didn’t want to finish that conversation. Not right now.

When I stepped on the path, I realized I wasn’t wearing shoes.

Too late to turn back now.

Plus, I couldn’t find my way back to that room even if I wanted to, but I didn’t want to go back.

I followed the path, not really caring where it led. I just wanted to get away. To have a moment by myself. The stones zigzagged through the gardens to a fountain surrounded by benches.

I wished the sound of water drew me toward the fountain, not the man sitting in front of it.

Lorne.

I almost laughed. Almost.

I’d run away from my father’s house—away from a conversation about Lorne—only to run right into him.

If I believed in signs, then maybe I’d read too much into this. But it was a coincidence. Only a coincidence. It didn’t mean anything.

The house stood on a hill overlooking the fountain. The farther away I got, the bigger it seemed. Weird.

The gardens surrounding the fountain were massive. The floral scents of the bright blooms filled the air.

Lorne watched me as I strode toward him. He was still glowing, but not as bright as he was in my room.

“I hear we’re betrothed,” I said when I got close enough to talk to him.

He relaxed back against the bench, resting his arms wide against the back. “Indeed we are. And that has you in a mad panic, running through your father’s grounds like the hounds of hell are at your feet—and no shoes?” He gave me a wicked grin, and I knew he was teasing me.

I didn’t like to show any weakness, but after everything we’d been through, he didn’t count. He’d already seen me at my worst. “It does. I don’t like to be forced to do anything.”

“I would imagine not. You’re very di Aetes.”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.” He’d said it blandly, but I wasn’t sure.

“You think I’d insult you?” His eyes were wide as he waited for me to answer.

Those eyes. My favorite color. I wondered if part of me had remembered them—remembered Lorne—if that was why I’d painted my room that color. But that was a silly thought. “No. I don’t think you’d insult me.”