He ran a hand through his hair and kept it there, his fingers twisted at the roots. All the mirth vanished from his mien: he was nearly about to cry. Her heart knocked against her chest as he said, voice broken, “My best friend passed away when I was seventeen. So I have nightmares about her.”

“Oh,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

And she didn’t know what else to say. How truly awful and wretched. With one glance at him, one would never guess: he was always smiling and laughing, teasing and playful.

“Life is lived through love and loss.”

“That it is.” She hadn’t expected him to shift from banter to meditation so seamlessly, but it was genuine.

Perhaps it was the night or the fatigue, but she felt open around him, a cloudless sky.

“Thank you, by the way,” she told him. “For coming along and helping me. It was honorable of you to help people who aren’t your own. Perhaps an alliance with you wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Was that a compliment?” he asked, mouth agape with fake shock. She shoved his arm lightly.

“A half compliment,” she responded. “Don’t get ahead of yourself in flattery.”

“Still,” he responded, holding his hands to his heart. “A half compliment from the princess. I shall cherish this memory for all of time.” But then he added quietly, “Truly, princess, the honor was mine. And besides, all the people of this world are my own, regardless of tribe.”

Durkhanai’s heart felt full as the soil after rain, flowers on the verge of blooming. She had never spoken thus with a man, and perhaps it should have felt more awkward or intimate or strange, even, but Durkhanai just felt at ease.

Comfortable.

They arrived back at the palace.

“Well, good night,” she said, though neither made any moves to leave.

Asfandyar smiled and bowed dramatically. “Good night, princess,” he exaggerated.

Durkhanai tried her best to give him a straight face, but she couldn’t hold it. She giggled, then giggled again. He was laughing now, too, and she couldn’t seem to stop. “Shh!” she said through her laughter, waving her hands to quiet him. “Everyone’s asleep!”

And before she could stop herself, she bridged the space between them and covered his mouth with her hand. Asfandyar’s laughter slowly fizzled out against her palm. He stilled, and she realized just how close they were.

Durkhanai swallowed.

They were much too close to be appropriate, even if she hadn’t been a princess and he a foreign ambassador. She was close enough to see the long eyelashes framing his hooded eyes, each curl that unfurled from beneath his pakol.