Theo slipped into Sophie's room using the secret passage he'd found. The great keep back home had tons of them. Most old fortresses were built with them.

When he'd discovered Sophie's, he'd spent over an hour exploring the network it connected to. It might have been selfish, but he'd wanted a quick way to get into her room without others knowing. Especially that Gundry fellow, who always seemed to be lurking just outside her corridor, as if he expected the prince to appear. As if he expected him to snatch her and fly off into the sunset, never to return.

It did sound like a rather appealing idea.

Her room wasn't entirely dark. A single candle burned beside her bed. The curtains were down, but he could hear her soft breathing. He crept over and drew the fabric back, taking in the sight of her peaceful expression, lips parted, eyebrows relaxed. Her hair fanned out around her on the pillow.

Gods, she was so achingly beautiful. Not just on the outside, but the inside too. Her heart, the way she sacrificed to help her people, risking so much—it was more than he'd ever done as a prince. It inspired him. Made him want to be better—for her, for himself.

He pressed his lips together. Hawthorne had no idea how precious she was. What a gift he had in her.

He just saw her as a trophy. Someone to have. Someone to brag about over dinner conversation.

He'd steal her away to Mistport and lock her up in his house. She'd be away from the rebellion. Stuck living some mundane life.

Was that why she'd pushed so hard to end the rebellion? Why she'd taken such risks? Because she knew there was an expiration date on her time here?

He tied the curtain back and settled into a chair beside her bed. Was it inappropriate to watch her sleep? He silently snorted. Why did he care?

He'd come with the intention of waking her, but now...he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. Instead, he thought over the day's events. Over how things had turned out. He hadn't gotten to walk the battlements with her. Why? Because Hawthorne was visiting. So instead, she'd spent the entire day with him. Basking in his company.

What a waste!

Theo had caught sight of them going out for an afternoon ride. She'd looked resplendent in her riding gown, atop a beautiful beige mare, while Hawthorne had looked poppus, smug even. The sight had curtailed his stomach.

What good was being a prince if he couldn't march up to Hawthorne and demand he go back to Mistport so he'd have Sophie all to himself? He'd had half a mind to do it as they'd taken off on their horses. In the end, he'd held back knowing Sophie would be furious.

It was enough to make him want to punch something. Xander had been forced to drag him to a tavern to try and cheer him up. He'd sulked, had one single drink, then left his drengr friend to his frivolity. He'd spent the rest of the day devouring the book she'd given him.

He'd never dare tell his friends—or anyone, really—that he preferred romances over adventure stories. But he'd revealed that side of himself to Sophie. She hadn't even chastised him for it. She'd been surprised, and he'd like that—

"Theo?" Sophie's soft voice pulled him from his brooding thoughts. "What...what are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

She rubbed her eyes and sat up, scooting back until her back rested against the headboard.

"Nothing's wrong, sweetheart," he said.

Her eyes darted to his lap. "Is that the book I gave you?"

A smile pulled at his lips. "It is. I finished it. Thought I'd return it so we could...discuss."

"In the middle of the night?!" A surprised laugh burst from her lips.

"As good a time as any. Besides, I didn't get a chance to talk to you about it today—earlier."

She cleared her throat. "Right. So...you want to talk about it now?"

"Why not?" He grinned.

"All right. Well, then, what did you think?"

"I loved it."

"You did? It's heavily romantic, Theo. Some of the scenes could even be described as scandalous for a proper lady."

"Ahh. But those were some of my favorites," he all but growled, delighted.

"Of course they were," she huffed. "What about Auspex and Lina? Did you think they'd end up together?"

He considered her question. "I worried that Lina's acquaintance would poison her opinions of him, keep them apart and all that, but I had a feeling she had the power within her to seek the truth for herself. I admired that about her. That she didn't just trust the word of the person she thought was her friend. That she spoke with him, worked out their differences. It was...inspiring."

"Oh? Some would argue that romances are just fluff. That there's nothing more to them than that."

"That's shortsighted. I find most romances inspiring. They always make me happy—feel good. I love knowing that two people care enough to fight for each other. It's a nice fantasy."

"Is that all it is, though? Fantasy?"

He huffed a laugh. "Probably. I'm a drengr. I can fancy whomever I wish, but at the end of the day, when—and if—I discover my mate, I won't want anyone else."

"But isn't that the person you fight for, then? Your mate?"

"I suppose." He sighed. "Maybe I like romances for other people, but not for me."

She clicked her tongue. "Or maybe you're so worried you'll never find that one great love, that you tell yourself you're better off without it. Better not to try. Isn't that how you treat your responsibilities, too?"

His skin prickled with heat. He opened his mouth, then closed it. She wasn't wrong.

"We all have our faults," she admitted. "I'm not perfect, gods only know."

He huffed. "I think you're perfect, except, perhaps, your taste in husbands."

"Oh, gods. Theo! He is rather..." She shrugged.

His stomach tightened. He wanted so badly to tell her again not to marry him. But who was he to dictate her life? He had no right to her. She didn't belong to him, even if he wished she did. But that would only hurt both of them when the time came to find his mate, his one true love.

Not that he was looking. Not that he planned to look. Not for a long time.

"So..." Their conversation tapered off. "What's the other book in your hands?"

He'd brought a second. He set it on her lap. She lifted it into the light to examine it. "Raven of the Land. Where did you find this? The library?" She looked up at him.

"It's...no. I brought it with me actually. I brought three. I wasn't sure what kind of reading material I'd find here. I like to read before bed, actually. It helps me sleep. It's from the library at Kastali Dun."

She sucked in a breath, looking over the book again. "The royal library?"

"The very same."

"Theo!"

"I know, I know. " He couldn't help but chuckle. This side of her was...refreshing. While he liked sparring with words, liked getting her fired up, and especially liked when she gave him a thorough tongue lashing, he also liked this quiet moment they were having. "That book is a long way from home. But I'm positive that you'll treat it well."

She hugged it to her chest before flipping the front cover open. "What's it about? Is it a romance?"

He huffed, affronted. "Of course! I enjoyed it. Perhaps not as much as Begging in my Dreams. Still a good read, though."

She shut the front cover and ran her fingers over it reverently. "Tell me about the royal library."

"Yes?" he asked. She nodded, eager, her eyes wide and excited. "All right."

So he did. He told her of the many floors of books, the large central atrium, the light and the way it fell in patters on the floor from the windows. "There are all these little alcoves with plush chairs, perfect for hiding away to read. And plenty of large work tables for scholars. We get hundreds of them, you know. Scholars passing through, doing research on all sorts of things."

"Gods, I bet Soren would love it there," she mused, her eyes taking on a far away look. "I bet he'd find so much research and documentation on plants."

"That he would. There are entire stacks dedicated to the topic of botany."

"Truely?"

He nodded, smiling until he felt the dimple at his cheek make an appearance. "There are stacks and stacks of romances too! At least ten rows, an entire section, really. Romances with fantasy, with adventure, romances set at sea, you name it. Oh, and books on art, too."

A look of hunger passed over her features. "I wish I could see it," she mused, her features falling.

"Who's to say you cannot?"

A low scoffing laugh burst from her chest. "Let's be realistic, Theo. I'm not a drengr, firstly. I can't exactly sprout wings and fly. Secondly, do you know how long it would take to travel by wagon or carriage to the capital? A month, at the least. A lot of open country, sleeping out under the stars without a bed or a chamber pot."

"Sounds rather ideal to me."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Surely Hawthorne would be delighted to bring you...after you're married."

"I don't think..." She shook her head.

"Doesn't he have loads of ships? He is a merchant, after all."

"He'll tell me ships aren't a place for a lady."

Theo's brows furrowed. "How do you know he'll say that if you don't ask?"

"Because I already did," she cried, lifting her voice. Her cheeks flushed. "I mean—not to go to the capital. But I asked him if we might sail the river to Squall's End, to see the city. A short trip, to be sure. He said,"—she pitched her voice low to mimic a man's—"a ship is no place for a lady."

Theo rocked his jaw back and forth. "That's godsdamned ridiculous, Sophie. Plenty of women travel by ship."

"It's fine, Theo—"

"It's not!"

"Just drop it, all right?" She was growing agitated.

He sighed. This always seemed to happen. It's like she knew Hawthorne was a bad fit for a husband, but refused to believe there was anyone better out there for her. Maybe there wasn't. But she wasn't his mate; he couldn't exactly dictate who she was to marry.

If he pushed, he'd only upset her more. He cared too much about her to see her unhappy. Even in this moment.

"You're right. I'm sorry. Forgive me for pushing."

"It's...all right." She took deep breath and then let it out slowly. "I really am excited to read this one."

"I think you're going to love it."

"I'm certain I will." They fell into an awkward silence. "I should...I should get back to sleep."

"Yes. Right." He stood, then hesitated before leaning down to softly kiss her forehead. His lips lingered. Gods, she was like a flame—and he was the moth. He couldn't seem to back away. He kissed her again, this time on her temple. Her soft sigh spurred him on, so he kissed one eyelid, and then the other. Then her cheek. He allowed his lips to drift downward, just to the corner of her lips, not quite her mouth, where he kissed her and let himself linger. She held perfectly still.

When he pulled away, her eyes were soft. He liked that look on her. "Good night, Sophie," he whispered. If he didn't leave now, he'd find her lips again, and this time he'd probably tumble into her bed, kissing her for hours. One thing would lead to another and—

No! He couldn't let himself think like that.

"Good night, Theo."

He let himself back into the tunnel, and tried not to regret his decision to kiss her the way he'd wanted.

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