We set up camp quickly, and the scent of cooked Rock Snake–flavored with garlic, courtesy of our snail friend–wafted through the air. I chewed slowly, trying to focus on the taste rather than the bedroll just a few feet behind us.

  We’d shared it before. It shouldn’t have been a big deal now, but this felt… different. Last time, I’d been too wrecked to think or feel much. The grief was still there, gnawing at my insides, but at least I could breathe around it now.

  Maybe it was being away from the dungeon where the corpses still sat. Or maybe it was Clover–her presence alone a balm.

  Whatever the reason, my nerves were a jumbled mess beneath my skin, ricocheting between anticipation, uncertainty, and unease. The night was long and nightmares hovered just out of reach, waiting for their chance to leap.

  What if I lashed out in my sleep? I’d never done it before, but I could.

  My gaze drifted downward, and a different worry took hold. What if I had one of those dreams? With Clover wrapped around me like before, it would be… awkward. To say the least.

  “Frederick.” Clover’s voice broke my spiraling thoughts. I glanced up, meeting her concerned eyes.

  “You’ve hardly touched your food, and I can practically hear you overthinking from here.” She flicked a glance toward the bedroll, then back to me. “If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.”

  Her tone wasn’t hurt or offended, thankfully, but I shook my head, panic flaring through the mess of emotions. “That’s not it!” The words rushed out before I could stop them. “I’m just worried. What if I have a nightmare and lash out? Or one of the other dreams–”

  I bit my lip hard, the metallic taste of blood grounding me. Damn it, Frederick, stop blurting everything when you’re tired and nervous.

  Clover’s concern softened into understanding, and then, to my horror, amusement. She stood, setting her book aside, and crossed the fire. Sitting beside me, she traced her fingers lightly down my arm. The warmth of her touch met skin instead of armor, and for once, I was glad I’d set it aside.

  Anticipation surged, feeding off her touch, but I shoved it down. Now was not the time.

  When her hand reached mine, she gently pried the half-finished Rock Snake from my grip and set it aside. Twining our fingers, she gave them a reassuring squeeze.

  “Darling, if you have a nightmare and lash out, we’ll handle it then. I’m not made of glass–you won’t break me with an accidental swipe.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  I winced and turned away. “I don’t want to hurt you at all.”

  Spousal abuse was rare in Dawncrest, but the few times it cropped up, I’d been swift–and merciless–in rooting it out. I’d seen the bruises, the burns, the welts. The thought of leaving even a single mark on Clover filled me with revulsion.

  Looking down at our joined hands, I tried to explain. “I know, you’re strong, but I can’t hurt you. I’ve seen too many of those kinds of people, and I won’t be one of them.”

  I can’t be like Lazuris, not in any way, but especially not this one.

  Logically, I knew it wasn’t the same. I wouldn’t do it intentionally, but that didn’t make the thought sit any easier.

  From the recesses of my mind, my spirit’s voice rose, firm with conviction.

  You could not be him if you tried. Your revulsion at the mere thought proves it. He is an evil man, and you, my Chosen, are not.

  Her confidence erased some of my unease. She must’ve seen thousands of people over her time, so if she believed in me, maybe I could write this off as my own overthinking.

  Clover leaned against my side, pulling our entwined hands into her lap with a chuckle. “Frederick, I say this with all my love, but you’re being a ninny.”

  I blinked. “I– what?”

  She shook her head, smirking. “You.” She poked my chest with her free hand, accentuating each word. “Are. Being. A. Ninny.”

  Before I could protest, she tugged my collar and pulled me down for a kiss. It was brief–just a peck–but before I could deepen it, she pulled back.

  “You’re not that kind of man, and you never will be. I’ve seen enough of them in Highgate to know the signs.” Her smile faltered, darkening into a grimace. “Honestly, I’ve never met anyone like you. So honest and upfront with their intentions. After living in that political snake pit, you’re a breath of fresh air.”

  I’d never thought much about what the capital might be like, but if her description was any indication, I wouldn’t fare well there.

  And if things went the way they needed to, I’d take the throne one day. That meant dealing with all those snakes and their deceitful smiles.

  My skin crawled at the thought, and I tucked her closer, pressing my lips to her hair to hide the new unease rolling through me. “I already hate it.”

  She laughed, shifting until she lounged fully against my chest. My arms wrapped around her instinctively.

  “Anyone with sense would. It’s awful there. The social elite consider those ‘beneath’ them as pawns in a game. Their suffering and grief are nothing but entertainment.” Her gaze drifted, unfocused. “The day my Lady chose me, I left that pit and I will not be going back.”

  The vehemence in her voice hit like a punch to the gut, and dread hollowed me out.

  I’d hoped she’d follow me once I told her about my heritage, but if she hated the capital that much…

  I should tell her. Rip off the bandage and deal with the fallout..

  The thoughts sent my dread spiraling into feverish anxiety. Before I could speak, though, she snuggled closer, wiping away the worry with a smile.

  “Good thing I don’t have to go back. I found myself a strapping paladin, after all, and once we’re finished here, we’ll see about moving your darling sweetlings out of Dawncrest.” She wrinkled her nose at the name, as if even saying it left a bad taste.

  A weak chuckle escaped me, and I hugged her tighter. A new worry pushed all the others aside.

  I needed to tell her…