“Now, roll to blow out the lamp, and come back to me,” he murmured.

I did as told, casting the tent into darkness. And when I rolled back, he wrapped both arms around me and held tight.

I sighed and snuggled closer.

I was coming close to sleep when True’s voice rumbled softly under my cheek and into the tent.

“It was the assault on the palace.”

My eyes opened.

“They fade,” he went on. “I face battle, they return.” He pulled me closer. “They’ll fade again, Farah. Do not worry about me.”

He was talking about his dreams.

“True—”

“Do not worry about me.”

“But you said, you’ll be strong when I need—”

“Farah,” a jostle from his arms, “do not worry about me.”

I nestled closer, grousing, “You can’t order me not to worry.”

“I’m sorry?” he asked. “Were you not listening but seconds ago?”

“I was.”

“So you know I did just that.”

“It’s ludicrous.”

“I’m a prince and a general, people do what I tell them to do.”

“Well they shouldn’t, if it’s ludicrous.”

“A royal can be as ludicrous as they want. Have you not paid any attention to my father?”

I stilled, right before I burst out laughing.

The moment I saw my mother on that bed covered in asps…

No, the moment, years ago, when I’d been told King Ares had been assassinated, even before knowing my father was the one who’d done it, I had not laughed like that or ever thought I would again.

But right then, I was, and I kept doing it when I heard True’s deep chuckles accompanying me.

I lifted my head and said a shaking, “I think you just spoke treason.”

“It’ll be our secret.”

“I hate to share this with you, my True, but I don’t think you’re keeping it much of a secret.”

I watched his head come up and then I felt his lips press tight to mine. So tight, and he kept them to mine so long, I felt their softness that mingled with firmness and all I smelled was True.

I stilled.

Now that…

Oh my.

That was a kiss.

He lifted up farther and kissed my nose.

I stayed unmoving.

He lifted up even farther and slid a hand up my neck to cup the back of my head so he could kiss my forehead.

I remained immobile.

He fell back to the bed and pressed my cheek again to his chest.

“Now sleep, darling,” he murmured. “For when we break camp and strike out on our own, we will not force our horses to walk slower than a wee babe would crawl.”

“We’ve not been going that slow.”

“It feels like it.”

“I’m betrothed to a man of action,” I muttered.

“You’re betrothed to a man who does not wish inertia to turn him into a statue.”

I started giggling again.