Kiva made a mock grand gesture toward the open carriage door from where she sat on a dappled mare. “Your handsome prince awaits you.” Though she smiled, I could see the tightness in it, the pain behind her eyes. This was difficult for her too. She was losing everything.

I pretended to gag, eliciting a laugh, but she wasn’t wrong.

With a final wave to Caliza, I climbed inside, and a servant shut the door, silencing the outside noises.

The sudden quiet was deafening. It pressed in on me like a flood, and I imagined myself throwing open the carriage door and leaping out. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to curl up in my bed under the covers and—no. I’m doing this. This was my opportunity to help my people, my friends, and my family. To help myself.

The carriage set off, passing through the castle gates. The hum of voices changed. Conversation turned to shouting. My jaw set—protests had been growing in the streets. The news of the engagement had spread, and people weren’t happy. Caliza would be hearing from the house lords and ladies before morning.

People would think she’d cracked under pressure, that she’d forgotten the past too easily. Caliza would suffer the whispers, the mistrustful glares, because she could and because it kept our people safe from the knowledge of how close we’d come to war.

Swallowing hard, I faced Ericen and found him watching me intently.

“I have a present for you.” He offered me the package that had been under his arm.

Eying him skeptically, I took it, removing the ribbon and pulling off the lid. The scent of orange flooded the carriage in a flurry of powdered sugar. He’d gotten me a box of orange cakes from the House Cyro cart at the canal.

I stared at the cakes, then at him, entirely caught off guard. “What game are you playing?”

“No game. Can’t a man buy his fiancée a present?”

“A man, yes. A cold-blooded snake, not so much.”

He laughed, the sound like needles of ice prickling my skin. “And here I was trying to be nice. I can do that on occasion, you know.”

I closed the box and set it aside. “Are you saying you’re not normally a prick?”

“Oh no, I am. Just usually a more charming one.”

I snorted. “If by charming, you mean arrogant.”

“If by arrogant, you mean extremely capable, then yes, we agree.”

I stared flatly at him. “Is this your attempt at a truce? Because you’re failing miserably.”

He smiled back, draping himself along the bench like a sunning cat. “Do you hate me because I’m Illucian?”

“I hate you for a lot of reasons.”

His lips twitched. “Fair enough, but perhaps I’m not so bad as you think.”

“You’re right,” I replied. “You’re worse.”