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The corners of his mouth twitched. “I can think of at least one that is better suited.”

“You can?” Claude leaned forward, far too eager. “I am dying to hear what you’d think would be more fitting after spending such a short time with her.”

Prince Thorne opened his mouth.

“How have you all been enjoying the late-spring Midlands weather?” I jumped in, glancing among the Hyhborn. “I hear the weather of the Highlands is quite temperamental.”

“One could say that.” Lord Bastian leaned back in his seat, that grin of his having returned at some point. “It is far cooler than here.” He glanced at Prince Thorne. “What other terms of endearment are you thinking of?”

Oh, my gods. . . .

Prince Thorne’s lips curved up in a slow, smoky smile.“Na’laa.”

The Commander sounded like he choked.

“What does that mean?” Claude asked.

“It has many meanings,” Lord Bastian answered. “I am curious as to which is meant in this case.”

“He thinks I’m stubborn,” I said, meeting the Prince’s gaze.

“Well,” Claude drawled. “That I can agree with.”

“And ungrateful,” I added before Prince Thorne could.

Claude frowned.

“I was going to say brave,” Prince Thorne said instead.

My lips pursed as I felt my cheeks heat again.

Prince Thorne’s attention was fixed on me, hand curled loosely around the stem of his glass while his other fingers tapped on the surface of the table. He hadn’t eaten much but appeared to be done eating. Tentatively, I opened my senses and let them stretch out to him. I met the white wall almost instantaneously. The hand I pictured did nothing.

“The humidity here is quite unbearable,” the Commander added just then, almost reluctantly, as if he thought he needed to add something to the conversation that had veered so off track.

“Yes, we don’t escape the humidity that bleeds out from the Lowlands,” Claude was saying as his glass was topped off once more. “You’ll be relieved to learn that the worst of the humidity doesn’t arrive until the Feasts. I imagine you all will be gone well before then.”

“That I cannot answer,” Prince Thorne answered. “We will be here for some time.”

CHAPTER 21

I stiffened, caught between a wave of dread and . . . relief, and about a dozen other emotions I couldn’t even begin to figure out.

“Excuse me?” Claude choked.

Turning to him, I picked up the glass of water he had yet to touch. “Here.”

“Thank you, pet.” His smile was brittle as he refocused on the Hyhborn. “When will you be gone?”

“That is hard to answer,” Prince Thorne stated coolly, and I would’ve sworn the temperature of the hall dropped by several degrees.

“I believe there are matters best discussed in private,” Lord Bastian advised.

Claude jerked his head at the staff. They peeled away from the shadowed walls, quiet like spirits. Hymel remained seated, but I stood, ready to run from the room despite wanting to hear these matters myself, which I figured had to do with the Iron Knights.

“Yourpetcan stay,” Prince Thorne said.

I froze for half a heartbeat. Hands curling into fists at my sides, I slowly turned to the Prince. Our eyes locked once more.

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