“You can’t be queen. And that’s a shame, because I think you would’ve made a damn fine one.”

She snorted again. “Sucking up won’t win you any more of this hare.”

“But you can still help change people’s minds. Help change the Reaches—by telling that story. That story, and any others you think the world needs to hear.”

“People don’t want to hear Traveler stories any more than they want to let Travelers stay in their towns and sleep in their fancy inns.”

Vidal reached across her and helped himself to another haunch. She tried not to think about how his arm brushed along hers. “So make them listen. Trick them into it if you have to—hide it in plays, tell stories to the children, or write it in books.”

“That all takes time and money and sponsorship from higher powers.”

“You have time,” he answered. “As for money and sponsorship, look, Zofi…” He touched her knee. Waited until she looked at him. “You might be in exile, but you are still the daughter of a king. Nothing can change that. And from what I’ve seen of your sisters, they care for you and love you still. One day, one of them will take your father’s place. They may not be able to overturn his edict, or lift his ban, but they will be able to support any actions you take.”

Assuming it’s one of my sisters who wins this thing, and not the enemy who forced me out in the first place. She fought away the thought. “We’ll see.”

Vidal just grinned and reached up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “That doesn’t sound like the Zofi I know. The Zofi I know would say ‘I’ll make it happen no matter what.’”

A faint smile touched her lips. “Yes, well. Maybe the Zofi you know underestimated just how much stands in her way.”

His expression softened. Turned serious. “The Zofi I know could take on the whole world, if she needed to.”

Their eyes locked, and her heart skipped. It took effort this time to tear her gaze away, to shift the topic to some joke about him shivering from the rain. It was picking up now, beginning to fall in sheets. They finished eating, kicked sand over the fire, and retreated into the tent.

But when they crawled inside, the steady torrential rain overhead punctuated now and again by deep rumbles of thunder, Zofi took one look at their separate sleeping cots and tugged her mat next to his. Without a word, she spread both blankets across the joined bed.

Vidal watched her for a moment. Then he reached over and tugged her to him, their bodies hot as furnaces beneath the covers. “Are you sure?” he whispered into her hair.