“That sounds like Marai,” Thora said, shaking her head, scandalized.

Ruenen chuckled. “She was right, though. I’m a much better musician now that I write my own songs.”

“Will you play for us sometime?” asked Kadiatu.

“Kadi, you can’t ask that of the Prince—” began Keshel.

“I’d be delighted to, if it would please you all.”

“Oh, yes, please!” Kadiatu then tugged at Thora’s arm. “Come, Thora. We can sit on the bench and watch. That nice commander who gave me the seeds, Avilyard, is over there. I want to thank him again.”

Thora let herself be dragged away. Avilyard greeted Kadiatu with a warm smile as she approached him. Ruenen walked back onto the dirt where Marai and Raife were sparring. Aresti continued her work amongst the pillars.

Leif swaggered over to Ruenen.

“Let’s see what you’re capable of, Prince.” He twirled a sword in his fingers as Marai always did.

On the sidelines, Avilyard stiffened and made a move to enter the court. Ruenen stopped him with a hand.

He wasn’t afraid of Leif.

Ruenen grabbed a sword from the stack and faced his opponent.

Leif charged. Ruenen blocked. They swung, back and forth, on seemingly equal ground. Leif was stronger than Marai, but he didn’t have her effortless skill or the ability to anticipate Ruenen’s moves the way she always did. Leif hadn’t spent years as a mercenary. He’d been sheltered in that desert; his only opponents were his own twin and Aresti.

Ruenen had seen more, done more, than the fae male before him. He knocked the blade from Leif’s hand. The steel glinted as it flew through the air.

Marai caught the blade in her free hand, suddenly appearing at Leif’s side.

Her smile spread. “You’re dead, Leif.”

Chapter 17

Marai

An ember of amusement sparked in the eyes of her fellow fae as they practiced together with Ruenen. Avilyard and his soldiers watched from behind the fence, aghast, as the fae performed with effortless skill. No magic—just weapons. The fae kept their secrets. For now.

Training went better than Marai could’ve hoped for. Shockingly, Leif seemed to come away from the afternoon without a single snarky thing to say. A gods-honest miracle.

They halted near sundown. The low orange sun cast muted watercolors across the sky as they wiped sweat from their faces.

“How did it go with the creature?” Keshel asked once Marai joined him, Thora, and Kadiatu at the fence.

Avilyard had volunteered to escort them home, but Thora politely refused and Kadiatu blushed at the commander’s gentle smile. She stared at Avilyard from across the pitch.

“What creature?” asked Thora.

Marai cringed. She pictured the shadow creature crying out in agony in its native language. The encounter left her feeling uncertain, with more questions than she’d had before. Besides Keshel, none of her family had guessed she’d also created a creature of darkness.

Marai explained to the others what had occurred in the Dale, earning gasps from Thora and Kadiatu, and dark, steely expressions from Keshel and Aresti. She didn’t mention her strange guilt.

Aresti jerked her chin haughtily over her shoulder at the remaining soldiers across the ring. “These men had better be grateful we’re here. They’d be dead before long without us.”

“He’s very nice,” stated Kadiatu, her voice high. “Commander Avilyard. He has kind eyes.” She blushed at Marai’s curious eyebrow.

“There’s honor in being a knight, I suppose,” Aresti said, ignoring Kadiatu’s winsome comment and staring at the golden-clad men on the opposite side of the court.

“Yes, but you give up your freedom,” said Keshel. “You become duty-bound to protect king and country, many times forsaking your own family.”

Aresti continued to watch the soldiers, pondering Keshel’s words. “At least they have purpose. Women here live in the shadow of men. They’re barely allowed to work, reliant on a husband to survive. And if they do have a job, women earn less than their male counterparts. I’d loathe to give up my power that way . . .”

Marai asked Keshel, “How was the rest of the council meeting?”

Keshel sighed through his nose, his face transforming with weariness. “What one might expect of a council meeting in wartime. What towns need aid, how to enlist more soldiers, disagreements about how to handle Queen Nieve and Grelta, then what kind of treaties we might need after the battle with Tacorn. Running a country is . . . complicated.”

Sounds miserable. Marai hoped she could stay far away from those topics. Ruenen may want her guidance, but she was useless in affairs of state.

“Aresti, those soldiers are staring at you,” whispered Kadiatu, eyes wide.

Several soldiers had taken their helmets off and ogled Aresti’s back. Perhaps they’d seen her watching them, but got the wrong idea. It wasn’t entirely surprising that Aresti would receive such attention.

For her part, Aresti didn’t glance back over to them. She huffed, full lips tilted into a smirk. “They can stare all they desire. Men and their attention do not interest me.”

Surprise momentarily froze Marai as she met Kadiatu’s equally shocked face. Marai also despised unwanted attention, from nearly everyone. But she was as charming as an eel and disliked most people. Aresti wore confidence as a perfume. Each swish of her hips captured men’s gaze.

“We should return to the cottages now,” Keshel said, exhaustion tugging at his words. “I don’t want us traveling through the city at night.”

Aresti waved to Leif, Raife, and Ruenen, who were still busy sparring two-against-one, swapping turns every ten minutes. “Time to go!”

The boys paused, wiping sweat from their faces. Was that a grin Marai saw on Leif’s lips?

“Feel free to come here whenever you desire,” Ruenen said. “What’s mine is yours.”

Marai couldn’t stop the smile. Ruenen spoke to Leif and Raife like a friend, not at all like a human prince. His casual enthusiasm caught both fae males off-guard.

“Thank you.” Raife bowed (Leif didn’t), then joined Keshel and the girls on the street heading home. Marai watched Raife hurry to Thora’s side and instantly begin conversation. Thora’s entire face lit up. Marai felt a spurt of envy inside her at their effortless nature, the love they shared.

Ruenen took a long sip of water and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Droplets of perspiration glistened across his face and arms. He looked rather un-princely with his untucked shirt and discarded brocade vest in the dirt. Marai doubted Holfast would be pleased with the state of his clothing.

“The invitation is open to you, as well,” Ruenen said with a wink. “Will you meet me tomorrow morning for breakfast?”

“I . . .” Marai paused. Was that wise? She was an advisor, and his personal guard, but would Holfast scold her for being alone with the prince? “Until tomorrow, then.”

Ruenen smiled; his breathtaking, full-faced smile that reached his eyes, making them dance.

Was she worthy of that smile? A prince’s attention? Of the home she’d been given? The nagging sensation of “undeserving” rose to the surface.

But in that moment, staring up at Ruenen’s shining face, she felt it then: You are enough. Exactly the way you are.