The shock and uncertainty in her eyes gives way quickly to anger.

She stands. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing.”

“Are you denying it?” I rise to stand beside her. “You refused to tell me anything about the man, and you continually refuse to tell me what happens three months from now. What else am I supposed to think?” I know I’m being harsh, but now that I’m next to her—and after an exhausting day working through this over and over again in my head—all these emotions are bubbling forward.

Her expression is guarded again. “Do you really think so little of me?”

“I don’t know,” I tell her. “You had no qualms about breaking up this man’s marriage. Who’s to say you wouldn’t break up ours?”

Pure, hot rage flashes across her face, and for a brief moment I think she’s going to smack me. Instead, she spins on her heel and starts to walk away. She makes it about three steps before she pivots back around and marches up to me, a finger pointed right at my chest.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” she says. “For your information, I didn’t know he was married when it started. And when I found out, he told me they were going through a divorce, that they were as good as divorced already. By the time I realized the truth…” Sadness fills her eyes, drowning out the rage—but only for a moment. She quickly shoves it down again. “You have no idea who I am or what I’ve been through. But the fact that you think me capable of all that says a lot about you.”

“I don’t know what you’ve been through because you won’t tell me,” I remind her, losing my patience. “Why wouldn’t I assume the worst when you’re being so bloody secretive?”

She pulls her hand away from my chest and crosses her arms, shaking her head. “You pretend to be all understanding and considerate of my feelings, but it’s all just a means to an end, isn’t it? You’ve never once stopped to think about why I might want to keep certain things private—you’re just upset that I do. Because you see it as denying you something.”

“That’s not how it is at all. But like it or not, Princess, we’re married. Do you really not see why your husband might be a little upset that you invited your ex-lover to headline your conference and never told him about it?”

“He was on the speaker list long before you ever announced our surprise engagement. Believe it or not, my life doesn’t revolve around you, Your Highness.”

“Oh, I believe it. So far you haven’t given me a single indication that you take this marriage as seriously as I do.”

Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, her gaze flicks to her right, toward the crowd of people. We’re far enough away that they probably can’t hear what we’re saying, but a handful have turned to look our way, and I’m sure our body language makes it more than clear that we’re arguing. I try to relax my shoulders.

“We should continue this conversation somewhere private,” I say.

“Not tonight,” she says with a sharp shake of her head. “I don’t have time. There’s still too much to do.”

“I’m not going to let you avoid this,” I tell her.

“I’m not avoiding this. There are just more important things to worry about right now than your hurt pride.” She wipes the back of her hand across her forehead, smearing the smudge of dirt there. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to get back to.”

She starts to walk away, but I catch up her in a few strides. “I’ll help.”

“I’m sure you’ve done more than enough already, You should head back to the palace now—no one will think any less of you for it.”

“I’m already here. I might as well help.”

“You’re just going to get in the way.”

I look down at myself. My clothes are grimy and even torn in a couple of places. My arms and legs ache from lifting rubble and debris. My head aches from exhaustion and mild dehydration. But I have no plans to go back to the palace.

“You obviously don’t know me very well, either, Princess,” I say. “I’m not—nor will I ever be—the sort of man who’s content to sit by and let other people do all the work. Send me somewhere else to work if you like, somewhere far away from you, but I will be staying to help. All night if necessary.”

We’re outside the building now, and she pauses. “Last I checked, they still needed help in the northern distract of the city. By the river. You should head there.”

“Where are you going?”

“Where I can be the most help. And I’m sending you where you can be the most help.”

I can’t really argue with that, however much I want to.

“All right,” I tell her. “I’ll go to the river.”

I turn—I know if I stay any longer, I’ll just argue with her again. And there are too many complicated things to process right now.

This conversation isn’t over, Princess. I feel like I’m thinking that constantly these days, but she always seems to wriggle out of the difficult talks. Not this time. This time, she’s going to tell me exactly what’s going on with James Camden. I don’t want to be blindsided by Reginald, of all people. Never again.

I look back over my shoulder. She’s heading toward the southern part of the city, and if I know her—which I’m not entirely sure I do—she’ll be out until dawn, doing whatever she can. In spite of everything, I find myself smiling at her retreating form. There’s something unspeakably beautiful about her devotion to her people. She’s not at all how I expected the Princess of Rosvalia to be, and though I have yet to decide whether that’s a bad thing or a good thing, I find that I can’t take my eyes off of her as she disappears down the street.

My beautiful, mysterious wife.

I wipe my face. I should add ‘infuriating’ to that list. I know I can’t keep letting her wiggle away from my questions, not when it’s clear she’s keeping so many secrets. We both have work to do tonight, but God help me, she’s not going to escape me again.

* * *

It’s well past dawn by the time I finally stumble back to the palace.

Justine isn’t in our suite, but I’m too exhausted to care. I strip off my filthy clothes and toss them on the floor on my way to the bed. I flop across the sheets without caring that I still have dirt streaked across my face and arms. In moments, I’m asleep.

When I wake, I’m still alone. A quick glance at my nearly dead phone shows me it’s almost noon.

And there’s still no sign of Justine.

With a groan, I roll over onto my back. My head is throbbing, and my stomach rumbles. I can’t remember the last time I ate.

But where is Justine? Is she still out there working?

I shuffle into the washroom and splash some water on my face. My mind goes back to the conversation we had yesterday. And to everything I learned about James Camden. I’m still furious she didn’t tell me he was coming here, but another part of me is almost…excited about meeting this man face to face, about having the chance to size him up in person. And to make it clear to him that she’s mine now. I don’t care what she thinks is happening three months from now—I have no intention of releasing her from this marriage. And especially not for him.

Straightening, I look at my reflection in the mirror. My skin is still covered in grime and there are dark circles under my eyes, but in spite of everything, I find myself grinning.