There were seagulls in Keye, Nikolai explained. He pointed to the bird when we departed the boat. We quickly found an alcove to hide near the only path out of the docks, and everything and everyone around us was vibrant and free.

There were musicians in the street. Solo artists and bands alike. One would play a classical piece; another dared the other at a faster pace. Somehow they bled together in a perfect harmony that made the city feel sentient of the land it was on, like it was alive, its own, a magical beast.

"Gosil certainly has a way with life," I said.

He nodded. "Sometimes I consider moving down this way, but I am sworn to Oreia's oath."

"You're not of the Queensguard," I sang. "You could defect?"

"No," he said. "That's not the path for me. There." He gestured toward my Knight.

Behind Ser Willoughby, Askar and his two Blades joined him on either side. They stood only for a moment before trotting on.

"Step back," he said.

I did, and he blocked the view of me from the road, turning his body on the party as they passed to be sure. I started to gather my reins, but he made me wait.

"But they're gaining ground?" I said.

"Yes," he noted. "That's the point."

"But if we lose sight of him?" I tried.

"Nah." Nikolai seemed unfazed.

"Ser!" I pressed.

He hung back off his horse just enough to watch them as they vanished onto another road.

"Ser!" I snapped.

"He's taken the right," he explained.

"Am I supposed to know what that means?" I asked.

"No," he said. "But that's why you have me."

"Do I get to know?" I tried.

He nodded curtly, nudging my horse with his. "Come on," he said. "The right means they're headed through Blythe."

"Oh." I followed behind him, more relaxed. "You really know your way around this place, huh?"

"I traveled a lot," he said.

"With Ser Willoughby?" I asked.

"Aye," he said. "Once upon a time."

"You talk about everything but him," I noted. "Why? Can't stand his bubbly personality?"

"Is that sarcasm?" he asked. "Unbecoming of a princess, I'd say."

"Sarcasm?" I asked. "Actually, no. That was about as serious as I've ever been. He can be quite giddy. What with his unrelenting promise of good things to come."

"Are you being serious right now?" He glanced back at me.

"What do you mean? Of course, I am."

"Never mind," he said. "I must be confused."

"Confused on what?" I asked. "On Ser Willoughby?"

"It's not important," he said. "You just know a different man than I do, is all."

"A different man?" I asked. "What man is Ser Willoughby that I do not know? He's a loyal, intelligent, brave knight, and he always has been," I said. "Even Ser Elías thinks so. Even my mother; you should hear the praise she sings of his time in Chalke with her."

"I'm certain he's got a life here," Nikolai said. "Far from rust and copper."

"What?" I turned over the phrase. "What the hell is rusted copper? Copper doesn't rust? It turns green."

"Rust and copper," he redelivered. "I can't help you if you don't know what that means."

"Now you insult me?" I asked. "Why? I thought we were having fun? Becoming friends?"

"Aye, Your Highness," he said. "We are friends if you declare it, but... I'm not insulting you. I'm just not in a position to divulge Crown secrets."

"Crown secrets? Who better to know than me?" I cracked.

"Try your mother," he said.

"My mother?" I frowned. "What would she know of rust and copper? Our palace is made of iron. Which, iron rusts, if you weren't aware."

"Don't think too hard on it," he said. "There are just some things the Crown knows that you don't. Come, they've taken the northern path. Blythe it is," he confirmed.

"Where is Blythe besides the north? Is that where the Duke's estate is?"

"He lives closer to Crild, ma'am," he said.

"My, he's traveled a long way, then?" I considered it. "Unless the map in my head is madly skewed."

"No, it's a ways from here." He slowed his horse to trot beside me. "If it matters," he started. "...About the Duke."

I sighed. "I'm sure it does not... but go on."

"His Grace is a very kind man," he said. "I know he's a druid or whatever–"

"That word's a slur of sorts," I told him.

"Is it?" He shifted. "Then I know he has some strange customs in regards to death, but–"

"What?" I asked.

"Death, ma'am? The rites they do when someone dies?" he said.

"Oh... I haven't witnessed that. What rites?" I asked.

"Never mind that," he said.

"Never mind that?" I asked. He didn't answer. "Fine. What were you saying then? What's the point of this whole trail of thought? What about the Duke?"

"I was saying... Just that he is... "

"He's what, Ser?" I pried. "You tell me he is weird about death? But he's kind? What does that mean? How do they connect?"

"Ha!" Nikolai shook his head defeatedly. "Now I have half a mind not to talk him up for fear you'll listen to me, and he'll wind up perpetually stuck in these sorts of conversations with you."

"I beg your pardon?" I asked. "Are you insulting me? Or just trying to spare him of my attention? And why— Wait a second, what?" I scoffed. "You seem to think I have some sort of interest in Askar?"

"Askar, is it?" He grinned at the victory. "I don't think I knew his given name! That being said, there must be some interest, then. I should buy a wager ticket with this gut."

I huffed. "Oh, shove it, will you?" Brutus found a log and leaped over it, jolting me back to the present. "Oof. Why are there so many trees? Did a storm blow through here? Or am I just that fortunate?"

"No need to be all upset," Ser Nikolai said. "There are worse men you could be waiting to court you."

"Waiting to– I told you, I am not waiting for Duke Löff to court me."

"You said–"

"I said I was waiting for someone, yes," I said. "But we determined that man was a phantom, you'll recall. A proper word for it, seeing as he is still haunting me, even now."

"Can I ask who it was?" he wondered.

"No," I said. "Well, technically, yes, you can ask, but I will not tell you."

He nodded. "That's fair. What I will say–"

"Oh, do go on," I moaned.

"What I will say is... I've known you half a day, and already I've suggested that you allow me to court you properly. Yeah?"

"So what?"

"Just. If this, and beg my pardon for the term, but if this ghost of yours doesn't want to... If he doesn't see you for who you are and what you're worth, like I do, and I suspect any other man with a pair of eyes and an interest in fiery women would, do you think he's worth waiting for?"

"Your pardon?" I frowned. "I didn't say I was waiting for him; I–"

"Didn't you?" he asked. "You said the words, 'I'm hopeful someone else will come this year.'"

"Damn you knights and your memory," I muttered. "Do they teach you that in training, or do you just have it before?"

"I think it comes with the job, ma'am," he said.

I took a shaky breath. "I... appreciate the sentiment, Ser. I do. And it has been lovely conversing with you as an equal and not the delicate doll I often feel subjected to be. But."

"But you're hopeful he will manifest this year?" he said. "First loves are hard to forget, eh?"

"How do you know he was my first love?" I asked.

"I'm in my forties, Your Highness," he said. "I know things."

"Ew. You're forty, and you wanted to court me?" I frowned. "I'm eighteen," I told him. "You're old enough to be my father."

"Alright," he agreed. "Better to forget it then?"

"I think that's for the best, Ser Nikolai."

Nikolai was eerily good at following people. We went the whole day right on the party's tail, and when they set up camp about half a mile up the road, he had already guessed where they'd take refuge. He knew the lands very well.

We laid on the ground opposite of each other, his feet at my head and my head at his feet; he said to keep an eye either way. We were tucked away next to a creek, which he put on the other side of himself, leaving me near the horses. That way, he had explained, we would hear anyone if they approached.

My suggestion was to sleep in a tree, but he said bears climbed trees and told me that spiders did, too. I didn't protest after that.

It was, however, freezing, and we didn't build a fire.

"The smoke will draw attention," he said. "Your Sword is trained to look for it."

"Not even a small one?" I tried.

"If you're cold, I could keep you warm?" I found that funny, but he did not. "Platonically," he said.

"You want me to platonically curl up into your arms?" I asked.

"It makes sense," he said.

"Uh-huh. Did you and Willoughby hold each other when you were deployed?"

"No," he said. "We had supplies."

"Well." I wrapped my arms tighter around myself. "A little chill won't kill me unless it does, in which case, give Ser Willoughby my regards."

"Sure."

My teeth were chattering.

"You do the same if I die first," he said.

We shared a laugh, and I rolled to my side to watch the trees. "Bears, huh?" I asked. "What else is out here? Deer?"

"Aye, and foxes, I suppose. Likely some sort of forest cat. A variety of birds...." His voice was wandering off. "Owls..."

"Are you falling asleep?" I asked, but there was no response.

I groaned. "Of course you are."

On some sort of ironic cue, there was a 'who? who?' from the woods. I tried to penetrate the darkness, but all I could see was the space between each branch, empty and colored like spilled ink.

I was scared.

I closed my eyes, hugged myself even tighter, and tried to think about Kristjan like I usually did when I couldn't sleep.

He pulled at the layers of my skirt, bunching it into the nonexistent space between us.

"Krist," I whispered.

He kissed my neck. "Shh," he teased, pressing his finger to my lips. "Don't make too much noise." His words were hot against my skin. "It would be hard to explain what we're doing in here."

"Wait," I said.

His hand covered my mouth, and then it was Askar's.

I jerked out of the fantasy, breathing hard. All I could hear was crickets.

I thought about what Ser Nikolai had said... The Duke was kind. Not exactly groundbreaking gossip, but not inaccurate. He'd always been thoughtful and kind... I thought about how good he made me feel.

Nikolai implied that I wanted to marry him. As if!

As if he'd ever share the sentiment. If Krist didn't, why would Ask? Why would any man at that?

Fiery, Nikolai called me—something like that.

A fiery façade.