She wasn’t sure what he was thanking her for—whether it was her lack of pity that he’d so feared, or her encouragement to get his mother the help she needed. Either way, her heart was beating almost out of her chest at his proximity, at how good it felt to be in his arms, even while she warred over everything she still knew about him, about herself.

But still, she allowed herself that moment. That one, single moment in time, melting into him and closing her eyes, wrapping her arms around him in turn.

And then she remembered his wounds.

He hadn’t uttered any sound of pain, but she knew the embrace had to be hurting him—not just his back, but his cracked ribs too, with how tightly he held her. So she gently pushed back out of his hold, looking him in the eyes and asking, “Better?”

He offered a shy smile. “Better.”

“Good,” she said, with a perfunctory nod, as if her heart weren’t still pumping triple time. “Now, what were you saying before? About Rooke making a mistake sending you down here?”

“Ah, that,” Jaren said, rubbing his jaw and looking uncomfortable, but Kiva knew it wasn’t because of the moment they’d just shared. He didn’t seem to have any problem showering her with affection. But then again, he was a prince. He was probably used to women falling at his feet. She wrinkled her nose at the thought, and it distracted him enough that he deviated from what he’d been about to say, instead asking, “What was that look for?”

Kiva wasn’t about to admit what she’d been thinking, so she thought quickly and said, “I just realized I don’t know what to call you. Jaren? Deverick? I’m unsure of the protocol here.”

This time, it was Jaren who wrinkled his nose. “I hate the name Deverick. I always have. My middle name is Jaren—that’s what my friends and family call me.” Pointedly, he said, “That’s what you call me, too.”

“Not Prince Jaren?” Kiva asked.

“No, just Jaren.”

“What about Your Highness?”

He pulled a face. “Definitely not.”

“Your Grace?”

“I’m not a duke.”

“Your Excellency?”

“Nor a lord.”

“Your Majesty?”

“Please stop.”

Kiva couldn’t believe she was holding back a laugh, after everything they’d just been through. But the look on his face . . .

“Fine, I’ll stop,” she agreed. “But only because I wouldn’t want you to throw me in prison.” She tapped a finger to her lip. “Oh, wait.”