I felt a presence at my side, thus I turned my head and looked up.

Kyril, one of Mars’s Trusted, one of my Trusted, our personal guard, stood beside me.

I had found, on our journey, and even before that Kyril was most often the one who was nearest to me.

I did not know if this was of my husband’s design, or happenstance.

I also did not ask.

I was just glad of it.

Kyril was the youngest of the Trusted and the most jovial. I liked them all. But I felt an affinity with Kyril.

“I’m not sure how my king will get to know my queen better, he on the rise with his childhood playmate, you skulking at the folds of your tent,” Kyril noted, his eyes, too, on the swell of the moor.

“I’m not skulking,” I retorted.

He looked down at me, but said nothing.

“I was refreshing myself after our journey,” I told him.

“We ceased moving two hours ago, and in between time, had dinner, which I will note, you took with Elena and Melisse, not your husband.”

I huffed and looked away in order to stare off into the distance.

“My queen—”

“Silence!” my father’s voice interrupted whatever Kyril was about to say and I felt my guard tense at my side as I turned my attention in my sire’s direction. “Come, sit with your mother and me in our tent for an evening sherry.”

I detested sherry.

“Heed my words, do not be in that tent when your husband returns, my queen,” Kyril said under his breath.

I looked to the rise of the moor.

The light was poor.

I could still see Farah was now fully in my husband’s arms.

She was betrothed to another. When we were but betrothed, Mars wouldn’t allow my own cousin to hold my hand, much less embrace me.

But he had no issue, in front of the whole camp, which included Farah’s intended, and Mars’s wife (that being me), holding her in his arms.

I looked again to where my father was standing, waiting for an answer.

“I’ll be there in a moment,” I called.

He smiled, nodded and moved toward his and my mother’s tent while I listened to Kyril emit a grunt of displeasure.

I tipped my head back to catch his gaze. “If my husband returns, please tell him I’m with my mother and father.”

“I’m escorting you there, my queen,” he replied.

“It’s three tents away and we’re surrounded by Dellish, Airenzian and Firenz soldiers. I’m quite safe to wander three tents down the line.”

“I’m…escorting…you there, my queen,” he repeated, mush less patiently this time, and the last time had not been all that patient.

I made a move to proceed, murmuring, “Then let us go.”