**A/N March 18 2020 

WELL HELLO! First of all, thank you so much to all those who reached out with kind words and condolences since my last post. To say it's been hard to get back into writing would be an understatement, and I had to leave my Wattpad projects behind for awhile to focus on my offline writing. But now that I'm on mandatory work stoppage because of the pandemic, I figured I'd use some of that time to get back into it!

I know you're all probably turning to Wattpad as an outlet and escape from reality right now, but since I work in healthcare, I wouldn't feel right if I didn't remind you all to stay safe. Wash your hands for at least 20 seconds, cough/sneeze into your elbow or your sleeve, stay away from others if you have fever/cough/flu-like symptoms, and otherwise try to stay 2m/6 ft from people when in public. We'll get through this, readers, but I want you to all stay as safe and healthy as you can until we beat this thing!

Lastly, I figured you'd want me to spend my writing time focusing on the story rather than composing a recap, so I'm launching straight into it from where we left off...**

The sun had barely risen when I helped Rafael lift the Carvalho children into the waiting wagon. Valentina screamed, hysterical as she tried to cling to Rafael. Tears slid down the big warrior's cheeks as he peeled her arms from around him. Teodoro helped, cooing false reassurances to the little girl. Behind them, wrapped in a cloak between trunks and bags of provisions, Gabriele stared straight ahead, still silent.

Valentina only relented when Genevieve climbed up, gathering the girl into her arms and stroking her hair to quiet her sobs. Genevieve had shared a lingering kiss with Frederico, tears streaming down her face when she'd turned away. They still slid down her cheeks, her arms around Valentina as the wagon lurched into motion. Rafael stood immobile as he watched them leave, his big shoulders crumpled.

Frederico's face had turned to stone as he strode over and extended his gauntleted hand to me. "Safe journey, Thomas."

"Don't die before I get to taunt you again," I replied, clasping it.

A weak smile tugged as his lips before he turned away, towards the assembled leaders of the army now packing up in the fields around the little town. The townsfolk were clearing out too, more wagons loaded with belongings falling in behind Genevieve and the children, fleeing the coming fighting now that Dulciana knew our whereabouts.

And I was to go with them. To hurry to the nearest Vareinnian port and sail for Pretania. Despite Frederico's insistence that I sleep, I'd stayed awake with him and his commanders all night, helping to build a new plan. We'd decided it was too dangerous to cross back into the Duque Dellanos' land, now that Dulciana would be hunting us, so I was to go with Genevieve, while Frederico and his army would march through the pass to lay siege to the fort Beatriz, Nisha, and I had so narrowly escaped from.

"I'm going with you," Beatriz had declared, when she'd barged into my room in the early morning, attired for battle despite her bandages. She'd fallen asleep at the table and I'd been the one to carry her upstairs to her bed before returning to help plan.

I'd tried to protest, but she'd already made up her mind. "I'm going with you until you board your ship. Frederico will never let me fight like this anyway. I'll be healed once I return, and then I'll be ready."

She'd spoken with such conviction that I knew I wasn't going to change her mind. Part of me didn't want to, not when it meant more time with her before I left. I could even try to use the precious time we had left to convince her to stay with Genevieve, so at least she'd be safe.

But Beatriz was not the kind to flee to safety. She would never forgive herself if she abandoned her brother's side when he was most in need of her. She would never be able to sit behind stone walls while someone else fought to end her sister's stolen reign. So I held my tongue, and continued to hold it when she hugged her brother goodbye and mounted up beside me in the chilly dawn light.

We followed the caravan of wagons north, away from the mountains, deeper into Vareinne, stopping as close to sunset as we dared to set up camp. I hadn't been able to imagine Genevieve—still attired in a dress with more petticoats than were practical—camping beneath the stars. But she did not complain once, her attention focused almost solely on the Carvalho children. She didn't so much as glance our way when Beatriz dragged me into her tent, my own forgotten beside hers.

We kissed urgently, desperately, heedless of the sounds of the camp falling asleep around us. But when her hands went to my belt, I stilled her fingers.

"No," I said against her lips. "Not like this."

She reeled back from me, her expression inscrutable in the darkness. "Why?"

I stroked her scarred cheek. "Because I love you. I don't want this as a goodbye."

She inhaled a shuddering breath and pressed her face into my neck. My arms curled around her back, holding her to me, breathing in the scent of her hair.

"I love you too," she whispered, and I didn't think words could ever sound so sweet.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," she whispered finally, cutting through the silence that stretched between us. It was only when she sniffled that I realized she was crying.

I shifted around so I could look at her, the tightness in my chest reflected on her tear-stained face. I brushed one of them away, where it ran down one of the bands of scar tissue cutting across her cheek. "You know I have to go. But I'm coming back. I swear it, on my life."

"That's not what I meant," she said, but she closed her eyes and leaned into my fingers. "I meant this. You. I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you."

"Well I was definitely supposed to fall in love with you." I pushed the hair I'd disheveled when we'd kissed back behind her ear. "To think, I'd have gone on being a ninny prince who could only sip tea and sling insults. Look how far I've come."

She smiled, but it was a sad, broken thing. A reminder of what was coming. Of the inevitability of our separate paths.

"Come with me." The whisper left my lips before I could wrestle it back down into my heart where it belonged.

Hope swelled in my chest when she studied me, her dark eyes roving my face. She was considering it. She wasn't flat out refusing me. She—

"I can't."

My hope burst.

She must have read it on my face because she reached out to rest a hand on my cheek, her calloused fingers warm against my face.

"If things were different, if I could just...leave, I would." She studied me as if to be sure I understood what she was saying. "But I can't. Not now."

I nodded, hating myself a little for even asking. For showing her the weakness of my hope. For thinking that she'd be the type of person to say yes and run away. I knew her better than that. But it didn't make it hurt any less.

"I know," I said finally. "I know what that would ask of you, and I know why you can't. I know that Ardalone will always be more important. That Frederico will be, too. But you need to know that I'm going to fight you for as hard as you're fighting for your brother and your country. I'm coming back, Beatriz, and I'm bringing an army for you. I'll do whatever it takes because all I want is to be with you. Here, there, Bazera...wherever you'll be, I'll be too."

Her tears were warm against my face as she kissed me again, this time far slower and far more heartbreaking than the urgency with which she'd kissed me before. It tasted like a goodbye. I hated it.

But not nearly as much as I hated the briny scent of saltwater that met us the next afternoon. We rode beside each other in silence, the weight of my imminent departure heavy on both our minds. Genevieve sat beside the wagon driver, while Teodoro told stories to his younger brother and sister in the back, amongst Genevieve's trunks and our remaining provisions. We were almost there, to her ancestral home and its surrounding town, nestled on the north coast of Vareinne nearest to the border with Ardalone. From there, it would be a quick journey to Highcastle. Far quicker than it had been to go to Relizia all those weeks ago.

"Attendez." Genevieve stood, catching her balance on the swaying wagon seat as she peered towards the harbour town below. "Tout le monde, attendez."

Wait. Everyone wait.

Beatriz and I reined in to either side of the wagon as its wheels ground to a creaking halt.

"What's wrong?" I asked in Pretanian.

"There are too many ships in the harbour," Genevieve said. She shaded her eyes from the sun. "Mais non, ça ne peut pas..."

"Riders," Beatriz said when Genevieve trailed off. Sure enough, on the winding road that carved through the rolling hills towards the town, a cloud of dust was rising.

"That is the king's gunship." Genevieve sat back down with a shaky thud.

"The Vareinnian king?" I repeated.

She nodded, her eyes riveted to the harbour.

The Vareinnian king. His gunship, alongside more, in the port. I should've been elated. We had a navy now. I should've hastened us down to the town in the hopes we could sway the monarch to our cause. But the riders racing up the road towards us, and Genevieve's decidedly negative reaction to the king's presence, tensed my shoulders. Something wasn't right.

I turned to Beatriz. "Take the children and go into the forest."

"I'm not leavi—" Beatriz began.

"If I'm wrong, you can call me a true idiota for the rest of our days. But if those ships are not here to help us, but rather to stop us, it's best they have no Ardalonians to leverage."

Beatriz' mouth snapped closed.

"Oui," Genevieve said. "I agree. My father can protect me, but..."

She left the rest unsaid as she stared towards the cloud of dust, kicked up by the rapidly approaching riders. She left unsaid Beatriz and the Carvalhos. What they might face if things turned ugly.

Valentina cried again as we hastily unloaded her and her brothers from the wagon. Teodoro climbed atop my horse with Gabriele. Genevieve buried all evidence of the children—a doll she'd sewn for Valentina, a stick and string sword she'd crafted for Gabriele—beneath the crates and trunks of her belongings.

When I handed a sobbing Valentina up to Beatriz, our gazes met.

I swallowed. It was too soon for goodbye. I wasn't ready. Not now. Not yet. There was so much more to say. So much more to promise. I glanced back at the riders and hoped I was overreacting. Really, I just hoped there would be more time.

I rested a hand on her booted calf. "I love you. And I meant what I said."

"I know," Beatriz said, the corner of her lip twisting up in a rueful smile that didn't erase the tightness in her eyes. "I love you too."

She was off before I could reply, with Valentina crying against her chest. Teodoro and Gabriele followed behind her, the older boy's face etched with worry. I didn't look back when I leaped up beside Genevieve and the driver.

The wagon lurched back into motion. I counted the riders. Twelve of them. Too far to tell if they were armed, but definitely riding hard for us. Genevieve pressed a worried hand to her bodice.

"You'll want to stop that," I muttered in Pretanian, wary of both the driver and the horses thundering towards our caravan. "Even if these are your father's men, the fewer people who know, the better."

She dropped her hand. her mouth set into a grim line. "You know I cannot guarantee your safety?"

"I do. That's what my title's for." When she frowned up at me, I offered her a grin. "I'm sharper than I look, Genny, and courtly games are my specialty. If I need to match wits with a king, I'm prepared. And if worst comes to worst, Pretania has my back."

Or so I hoped.