We rode on, following the path the hunt had broken. “When my father taught me to ride, he had me in the saddle every day for a month,” Bear said. “My legs were jelly every time I came off the horse.”

“Your father?”

Bear had never mentioned his family before.

He nodded, still staring through the woods. “It looks like they went this way.”

“Is your father a member of the guard, too?” I pressed.

“No. My father and I haven’t much in common. He’s not pleased I’ve taken this post.”

He was silent for such a long moment I glanced over at him, brows arching.

“He’s not?” I prompted.

Bear pursed his lips, shooting me a sidelong glance. “He worries it’s not safe.”

“What does your mother think?”

“Mum’s approving.” His face warmed, and Bear gave me another piercing look, forehead puckered beneath the hair that had spilled over his brow during the chase. “What about your family?”

“I have a father and a stepmother, and they have a baby on the way,” I began. But I trailed off as a dangerous temptation suddenly filled me—the longing to brush the hair out of his eyes and tell him the truth.

I pulled Cotton up short, glancing around and listening. Only the rich, green silence of twilight, only our breathing and the spatter of a brook far off.

“My father and I are close, but my stepmother and I . . . are not,” I said slowly. “That’s why she sent me here.”

Bear squinted at me. “What do you mean?” I looked away, not answering, and he ducked, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Selah?”

I blew out a long breath. Cotton’s ears quirked backward. “I didn’t even know I was leaving until the night before it happened. When my proposal at home was declined, my stepmother and the Council announced I was going away,” I finished. “My father’s not well, and I’m worried for him. And Perrault’s not aboard the Beholder because he’s much use at sea.”

Bear’s eyes narrowed. “Your protocol officer has quite the pair of eyes on him.”

“Yes.” I gave a bleak smile, darkly amused to be confiding in one spy about another. “He suggested you and I were spending too much time together. He’s very concerned that Prince Bertilak extends a proposal.”

Bear cocked his head. “Aren’t you?”

“Of course,” I lied abruptly.

A smile as wry as mine spread across the guard’s face. “He’s afraid I’ll jeopardize your chances.”

“I told him we merely—” But I broke off at the steepening arch of Bear’s eyebrows, the curve of his grin. Mortified, I hurried Cotton Nero forward, but Ursa kept up with us easily.

“Myrddin and the king trust me implicitly,” Bear insisted. “You can, too.”

I was growing more awkward by the second. “I know.”