Asha smiled, her brown nose wrinkling. “Will you marry him?”

The innocent question threw her. Other than a few furtive kisses and stolen touches, Rhystan hadn’t signaled his intentions. What were his plans? Would he stay in Joor? Go elsewhere? Sarani knew he was of good birth. His education, diction, and bearing certainly supported the notion that he was of aristocratic lineage, and his service record was unsullied. But he’d never mentioned returning to England, and the curt way he spoke of his home there suggested a painful history.

Her father would not throw out such a match if it made her happy, but she was his only child. She worried the inside of her cheek and squashed the suddenly uncertain direction of her thoughts. “Perhaps one day,” she replied, noncommittal.

After dismissing her handmaidens, Sarani had just climbed into her bed with a book when a handful of tiny pebbles struck her shutters. Her heart leaped with joy and excitement. She and Rhystan had snuck out on many an occasion after such a signal. Vaulting up, she only had time to put on a pair of slippers before the shutters pushed open and a disheveled Rhystan tumbled in.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, eyes darting to her inner door. Rhystan had never come into her chamber before. She had always climbed down to meet him after dark in secret in the gardens. She frowned, taking in the details of his torn clothing and his wild hair. “What has happened?”

“Markham,” he growled.

“The vice admiral?” She blinked.

“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter. Only you do.” Those striking gray-blue eyes met hers in the candlelight. “Do you trust me, Sarani?” The way he said her name sent shivers down her spine to her toes. She nodded, her throat thick. “Good, then listen carefully. I want to be with you. But we have to leave Joor.”

Her heart jolted. He did want her, and then the rest of his words sank in. “Wait, what do you mean ‘leave’?”

“Sarani,” he said, his fingers coming up to stroke her jaw. “There’s nothing for me here or back there. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. I swear it.”

An oozing cut on his lip drew her eye. “Did someone hit you? Are you in trouble?” He rubbed his mouth and then raked a hand through his short golden-brown hair that also looked darker in patches in the flickering light. She frowned, squinting. Was that more blood? “What’s going on, Rhystan?”

“I’ve been discharged from service,” he replied. “Tomorrow, I’ll arrange passage on a ship for us, and we can go wherever you wish to go.”

Sarani felt the floor tilt beneath her feet. “Passage on a ship?”

“Yes,” he said, gathering her close. “Do you love me, Sarani?”

She huffed a breath. “You know I do.”

“Then trust me.”