‘He doesn’t like strangers knowing his name. He’s been on edge lately, too.’ Michael’s jaw tightened, his lips pressed into a thin line as he stared ahead.
‘That’s his real name? King River?’
Michael grimaced. ‘Don’t tell him you know, please.’
‘I won’t. The last thing I want is for him to lose his temper again.’ I patted his shoulder lightly, trying to reassure him as we walked on in thoughtful silence.
The path wound between the willow trees I had connected with days earlier. Unable to resist, I brushed my fingers along one of their rough trunks. The bark tingled faintly against my skin, the tree’s essence reaching for mine, craving connection as much as I did. But I wasn’t sure I was ready.
Michael’s solemn voice broke through my thoughts. ‘I’ve heard what happened during that training session.’
At least he didn’t mention the incident in the forest. I still dreamt of it, his hand around my throat, my lungs burning as I clawed for air. Even now, my body tensed at the memory.
Hoping to shake off the heaviness pressing on my chest, I forced a crooked smile. ‘Well, let me tell you, he did not conjure a dragon that day. Did he confess?’
Michael chuckled. ‘Emily did.’
‘The girl who saved me?’ I asked, remembering the woman’s fierce energy and the flame that reminded me of my own.
‘She’s my brother’s mate. She couldn’t believe it either. Fogoyan men…’ He trailed off, his expression twisting with something between shame and pain. ‘People call us savages because fire is rough and violent, but that’s not all we are.’
I caught the shadow in his eyes, the weight of old wounds, but I didn’t pry. Everyone deserved privacy, and if it was something that he was ready to share, he would.
We walked on in comfortable silence, and I found myself reflecting. Though I was technically the king’s subject now, I didn’t know what that meant. Twisted as it was, I’d begun to think he might genuinely protect me if only to uphold his word.
The Fogoyans had saved me when no one else could. For all their violence, there was honesty here I’d never found in Ortensia.
A sudden laugh escaped me, surprising even myself. ‘I mean, really, King River of the fire-breathers? Were Creek and Pond already taken?’
Michael snorted, laughing freely for the first time. It broke the sombre atmosphere and transformed him, making him look years younger. I couldn’t help but smile too. Maybe there was more warmth in this cold land than I allowed myself to believe.
The only constant warmth in my life had always been Anya. Since reopening our bond, guilt still gnawed at me—how easily I’d shut her out when fear took over. It had taken hours of apologising and promises never to do it again before she even considered forgiving me. The wound to our connection was still there, faint but raw. It would take time to rebuild the trust I’d broken.
Changing the subject, I asked, ‘How long have you been his assistant?’
‘I’m not his assistant,’ Michael corrected, his brows shooting up.
Oh. I winced. ‘I’m sorry, do you have another title?’
‘River’s got enough staff. But in a way, it was my job to meet you, I suppose.’ His cheeks coloured faintly, and he looked away.
‘What does that mean?’
‘I couldn’t find any information about you, so naturally, I worried your mother had sent you to kill my brother.’ His voice carried an awkward edge, as though he were embarrassed. ‘He wanted me to stay away, actually, but I thought I should be close, just in case. Not that he needed me to.’
I blinked, stunned. The king was his brother. Which meant Michael—the kind, gentle Michael—was the Prince of Fogoya.
The more I observed him, the more I noticed the similarities between them. Their height was the obvious one, both easily over six foot five, but where Dracon… or River was all muscle and sharp edges, Michael was leaner, quieter strength. Even their eyes crept the same way when they smiled, though their colours set them apart.
‘I’m sorry, are you saying you’re some kind of royal spy?’ I teased, half-joking.
‘You could say that,’ he said lightly, clearly unwilling to elaborate.
I studied him anew, remembering how harmless he once seemed. Maybe he wasn’t so docile after all. Still, his sincerity felt real, and I found myself believing him when he added, ‘I realised I was wrong the moment I met you, princess.’
‘Oh, don’t bother with the title. Your brother made it obvious that it means nothing here.’ I mimicked River’s gravelly tone and exaggerated expression, earning achuckle from his brother.
‘He does like to push your buttons,’ the prince said, amusement dancing in his eyes.
