Note: This bonus chapter was inspired by a suggestion from a new reader, Swhedha, and by the never-ending love of Niako's fan club president, BlameSaiki. Check out the prequel, "Rashika's Resistance," to learn the history behind Niako's family. Niako will also return in Finny's sequel as soon as the prequel is complete! 

Toom looked different.

I knew he would, both because ten years had passed and because of the rumors I had overheard. Watching him from behind, I admired the broad shoulders, tousled blonde hair escaping the hood at the edges, and the solid muscles visible even through that ridiculous poncho and loose trousers. He was a god among men.

A god who apparently thought he would blend in perfectly with an oversized poncho, hunched shoulders, and quick strides.

And Goddess have mercy, that just made him even cuter.

A breeze carried the stench of decay from an overflowing trash bin down the street. Still, the cool night air provided some reprieve from the unwelcome heat coiling in my core. The Coupling always presented numerous appealing options, but I never experienced this loathsome discomfort, this itch I could not scratch, this sickening loss of control. For a moment as I watched him, the strangest urge squeezed my stomach, my lungs... my heart.

I should warn him.

But while I had lost control over my vital organs, I would not allow my mouth to betray me. He would pass by blissfully unaware — out of sight, out of mind. He was not my responsibility, and I would not interfere with my family's plans. Whatever had happened between us as children held no bearing on the present. In fact, I preferred his family lose power sooner rather than later, so I would stop hearing his name in every bar, in every street. So I could forget about him entirely.

He rounded the corner, almost out of sight, when it happened. For some unfathomable reason, a single syllable wrenched its way free from my throat.

"Toom?"

He stiffened. Even before he turned toward me, his body emoted his internal struggle as though acting in a skit. If this were Makash, such an exaggerated reaction would be cause for suspicion.

But Toom was nothing like Makash.

Toom was endearingly, infuriatingly guileless.

"Hello, Niako." The bold, unrefined Fooja accent cut through the quiet of the street.

Then he turned around.

And seven hells, my lungs abandoned their duty to my body.

His blue-green eyes stood out even more than they had before against bronzed skin, and his hood slipped back just far enough to reveal a stubborn cowlick of sun-streaked hair. He stood erect, but his tight shoulders, his flexed arms, and his foot scuffing the ground revealed his self-consciousness.

He was so unaware of the body he now possessed.

I seized control of myself and managed an even tone. "You look... different."

His chiseled jaw worked as though physically chewing through some inner turmoil — turmoil that played across his eyes, as readily accessible as a ripe fruit dangling from a low branch. Turmoil that currently centered around just one thing.

Me.

I had heard tales of his many impressive conquests, in a fighting arena, in bed, and just today on his journey here. He was unbeatable, undeterrable, undeniable. But when his gaze traveled over me in spasmodic, almost unwilling movements, and his whole body reacted... he was defeated before the fight even began.

"And you look exactly the same," he said.

I fought the smirk that threatened to overtake my lips.

He spoke again, fast and stilted. "What are you doing here at night? We are nowhere near the palace."

Leaning back to rest my shoulders on the lamppost behind me, I said, "This is where I live. I moved out of the palace years ago. But why are you here? We must be a thirty-minute walk from the Royal Tent."

"I needed fresh air," said Toom.

As if anyone went to the Sleepy Eye Tavern for fresh air. Since no smell of prak wafted on his breath, only one possible purpose remained. But who in Rashika's name would send a naive prince out to spy? Surely even the drunken, incompetent King would not be so careless with his own son's life.

I glanced past Toom to the dark street. No guards? Really? At this rate, my family would not even need to kill him. A group of dissatisfied peasants could do the deed.

I forced a neutral tone. "Hmm. Unless Stro has become significantly stealthier, I would say you are not even guarded. Quite a risk for fresh air, isn't it? Not everyone in Rakim is fond of you, you know. Some might want to take advantage of this situation."

He turned to scope out the shadows around us, grasping the hilt of the sword strapped to his waist. When his gaze returned to me, his brow furrowed, and he bit his lip.

He was afraid... of me?

Not me, I wanted to tell him. I will not hurt you. But there was every high chance I would break that promise.

Better to let him fear me.

I tipped my head back to rest on the lamppost and crossed my feet at the ankle, studying him. As he tracked the movement, something other than fear sparked in his eyes. Even in the flickering light of the street lanterns, I saw the flush that rose to his cheeks and the constriction of his Adam's apple.

I savored his fluster like an indulgent dessert. If anything, I was even more conflicted than he was, but one crucial difference gave me all of the power. I knew exactly what I was doing to him.

He had no clue what he was doing to me.

"No one would dare to harm the prince." His voice was ragged, strangled.

The dessert turned bitter at the back of my tongue. "You might be surprised."

His hand gripped the sword hilt tightly enough his knuckles paled. "Oh?"

I'm warning you, not threatening you, you idiot. I wanted to smack my forehead. Instead, I shrugged one shoulder.

"Some people around here are desperate. You never know what a group of unaffiliated ruffians might attempt."

He froze, his thoughts visibly redirecting like horse reins jerked to the side. Now the right questions danced across his eyes and teased his lips, but would he actually dare to ask me? And how would I respond if he did? I had already said too much.

I gave a slow blink and stretched my arms out to the sides in a calculated demonstration of indifference. "Will you attend the Challenge Day competitions in the morning?"

He blinked at me, jerking on the horse reins once more. "I don't know. Will you?"

I laughed. "I better — I'm fighting in one of them."

His eyes widened, and he bit his lip again. Good Goddess, was he actually aroused at the idea of watching me fight? Now that was a prospect I would have to avoid thinking about during the competitions.

"Then you had better go get some sleep," he said, voice strained at the edges.

When I thought of Toom walking off alone, my gut did an uneasy little flip. Any prince would be foolish to wander enemy streets at night, but especially this prince. This prince whose thoughts played across his face like a bold script, this prince who could not even imagine the nightmare he was walking into.

I lifted my head from the lamppost and slowly straightened. "Perhaps you would like me to walk you home first? I wouldn't want the High Prince to get lost in these dark, dangerous streets."

He shook his head and huffed a laugh. "I'm not twelve anymore. I know the way back. And I can defend myself."

Remembering the news my family had received today, my chest pinched. I had previously convinced my parents that Toom was only an inept overgrown child who presented no threat. King Karoo would die on the way to Rakim, and then Toom would concede the throne to my father without any fight. But my efforts had been wasted.

Anyone who could kill two assassins clearly presented a threat.

"Yes," I said. "So I've heard."

I watched his hand twitch over the hilt, and then I drew my gaze up to his face. His broad, muscular frame emanated power, yet his eyes looked so unguarded.

Vulnerable.

A shout and the splintering of glass from the Sleepy Eye Tavern jerked me back to my senses. I looked over Toom's shoulder toward the sound, mostly to avoid meeting his eyes again.

"Go home, Toom. I'll find you after the competitions tomorrow morning."

I slipped away into the night with the imitation of a smile twisting my lips but something else twisting my gut. I had knocked him to the ground verbally just as easily as I had physically when we first met, a resounding victory that should have left me happy. But in the end, neither of us would win.

Toom would die.

And I would not enjoy watching it happen.