“Why are you here, mo stór? Was that a palace guard with you?” He presses soft kisses along my neck, moving down toward my shoulder. “I’ve been conscripted as a healer for the competition,” I gasp. “Heartsfire, Rince—this is quite the welcome. I wasn’t sure you’d be happy to see me.” He cups my face, his eyes burning into mine. Always so intense, those eyes, with the rabid light of purpose in them. “I had to leave you. You understand why. My beliefs are everything. The cause is everything.” “So you and Brayda—you’re not—” “Together? Sometimes. We share rooms, and occasionally beds. But I
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