“The prince seems to favor the commander,” I say to Walgash one evening.

Walgash nods sagely. “Kiran served under Arxa during his military service and holds him in high esteem. Certainly thinks more highly of him than the emperor does.”

As we move deeper into grassland, I start seeing little orange flowers dotting the landscape. It’s the puzta flower, the same herb Zivah gave me as a keepsake for my trials. Except instead of the tiny patch in Zivah’s garden, these flowers paint giant swaths of color on the hillsides. The pounding of our horses’ hooves release their fragrance into the air.

I pick a few blossoms to amuse myself, and then I remember what Zivah had said about not having much of this plant to spare. It occurs to me that I could easily gather up a bunch to dry and take back. Once I decide to gather the flowers, it’s very easy to do. Every time we stop, I simply reach down and pluck a handful. Nobody comments on my impromptu herb collecting until Cas sees me laying them out on the ground that night to dry.

“Flowers, Dineas?” he says. “You are a sensitive soul, aren’t you?”

I’m not in a mood to respond.

“Oh, I see,” Cas says. “These flowers aren’t for you, are they?” When I still say nothing, he snorts. “Maybe you’re onto something, bedding someone like that healer. No complications, no trouble. You have your fun, and she’ll remove herself from the picture in a few years.”

The flowers scatter across the floor as I lunge for him. Cas barely has time to widen his eyes, and then my fist meets his cheek in a painful but satisfying crack. Before he can recover, I sit on his chest and follow up with more. Chaos erupts around us. Some men are shouting my name, some are shouting Cas’s, but I pay them no mind. The world shrinks down to the two of us, throwing punches and getting a few in return.

Suddenly, arms drag me backward. “It’s not worth it,” Masista hisses in my ear. I strain against his grip, but he’s remarkably strong for his small size. I see that someone else has Cas pinned as well, and he’s about as happy about it as I am.

“What is this?” Arxa’s shout cuts across the din. Everyone falls silent. I stop struggling, and Masista lets me go. I touch my lip as I straighten, and my finger comes away damp. I can feel my eye swelling.

The crowd parts for the commander, who strides in like an avenging god. He rakes his gaze over us both. There’s bits of dried flowers on my shirt.

“What do you have to say for yourselves?” Arxa’s voice is a low growl.

I stare straight ahead. “No excuse, sir.”

Cas says the same.