“You mean, besides the obvious possibility of death?”

I laughed. “Yes! Because if I go back to Coroa, there’s a fate worse than death waiting for me.”

“What do you mean?”

I sighed. I guessed he should know about it all now. “I’ll have to go back to the castle. Jameson summoned me, and I turned him down to come here. It’s hard to explain, because I love Coroa, and I love Keresken, but if I go back . . . I’m afraid he’ll completely drop Delia Grace. After those rumors we heard at the border, I can’t ignore that possibility. If he is doing that to her, which I sincerely hope he isn’t, then I’m terrified he’ll let her go for me. And, I don’t want to be a disloyal subject, but I also don’t want to be his betrothed. Not again. I’m afraid being at that castle means being his, and I can’t . . . I can’t . . .”

The tears came again. It felt like a race. If he’d just hurry up and marry Delia Grace, then maybe I’d be fine. But I didn’t want his attention or his crown or any of it.

“Hollis, everything will be all right.”

“It won’t,” I promised. “I know you didn’t believe me, but I don’t want Jameson. At all!”

He frowned at me. “Why can you talk poorly about him or Coroa, but when I do it, you get so upset?”

I raised my arms and dropped them. “Because Coroa is mine! It’s mine, so I’m allowed to talk about how horrible the laws are or my king is. When you do it, it stings because that was my home, and it’s a part of me, and it’s like you’re saying I’m terrible, too. As if I didn’t already know you thought I was terrible.”

“You’re not . . .” He huffed as I wiped at my tears. “You’re not terrible.”

“You just made fun of my clothes,” I reminded him.

“Yes . . . I’m sorry.”

“Like you’re such a great dresser.”

“Hey!”

“And why do you like it so much here? It’s summer, and it’s still cold!”

“Hollis.”

“You’ve got to stop being so hard on me. I can’t—”

And then I couldn’t say anything else because Etan’s lips were on mine.

Every inch of my body went warm, tingling at the sensation of an unexpected kiss.

All my tension suddenly melted away under the sweet kisses of Etan Northcott. I’d never been close enough to smell him before, but he had a scent all his own . . . something that reminded me of being outside. He held on to my arms, keeping me in place, but his hands were gentle. And that was miraculous because I’d seen what his hands were capable of. It was all miraculous, actually.

When Etan finally pulled away, he still held me firmly to the earth. There was a crooked smile playing on his lips, and then, instantly, it was gone. Something flickered behind his eyes, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just done.