His horse was monstrous and made my Ravian seem like a child’s pony. It was clearly not built for speed, but for strength, and maybe intimidation. Rafe sat so high on the saddle he had to lean down to hand me the baskets.

“I’m sorry if I intruded,” he said as I took the baskets from him.

His apology caught me off guard. His voice was polite and genuine, holding none of the rancor of yesterday.

“A kindness isn’t an intrusion,” I replied. I looked up at him, and before I could cut off my own words, I heard myself inviting him to stay and water his horse. “If you have the time, that is.” What had I done? Something about him greatly troubled me, but something enthralled me too, so much so that I was being far too reckless with my invitations.

His brows lifted as he considered my offer, and for a moment, I prayed he would say no. “I think I have the time,” he said. He swung down from his horse and led it to the pool, but it only sniffed at the water. It was a black and white piebald, and though formidable in stature, quite possibly the most beautiful horse I had ever seen. It’s coat gleamed, and the feathers on its fore and hind legs were shimmering white clouds that danced when it walked. Rafe dropped the lead and turned back to me.

“You’re gathering berries?”

“Berdi needs them for the festival.”

He walked closer, stopping just an arm’s length away, and surveyed the canyon. “Way out here? There are none closer to the inn?”

I held my ground. “Not like the berries here. These are twice the size.”

He stared at me as if I hadn’t spoken. I knew that something else was going on here. Our gazes were locked as if our wills were battling on some mysterious plane, and I knew if I turned away, I would lose. Finally he looked down for a moment, almost contritely, chewing on his lower lip, and I breathed.

His expression softened. “Do you need help?” he asked.

Help? I fumbled with the baskets, dropping one. “You’re in distinctly better spirits today than you were yesterday,” I said as I stooped to pick it up.

“I wasn’t in poor spirits.”

I straightened. “Yes you were. You were an ill-mannered boor.”

A grin slowly lifted the corners of his mouth, that same maddening, arrogant, secretive grin of last night. “You surprise me, Lia.”

“In what way?” I asked.

“In many ways. Not least of which is your terrible fear of rabbits.”

“Fear of rabbits—” I blinked slow and hard. “You shouldn’t believe everything people tell you. Pauline has been known to generously embroider the truth.”

He slowly rubbed his chin. “Don’t we all?”

I studied him, no less than I had Gwyneth, though he was even more of a puzzle. Everything he said seemed to carry a gravity beyond his stated words.

I’d make Pauline pay for this, beginning with a lecture about rabbits. I turned and walked to the berry bushes. Setting a basket down at my feet, I began filling the other. Rafe’s footsteps crunched on the ground behind me. He stopped at my side and picked up the extra basket. “Truce? For now? I promise not to be an ill-mannered boor.”

I kept my eyes on the berry bush in front me, trying to suppress a grin. “Truce,” I answered.

He plucked several berries, staying close to my side, dropping a few into my basket as though he was getting ahead of me. “I haven’t done this since I was a child,” he said.

“Then you’re doing quite well. Not one has gone in your mouth yet.”

“You mean I’m allowed to do that?”

I smiled inwardly. His voice was almost playful, though I couldn’t imagine any such expression on his face. “No, you’re not allowed,” I replied.

“Just as well. It’s not a taste I should acquire. There aren’t many berry bushes where I’m from.”

“And just where would that be?”

His hand paused on a berry like it was a monumental decision whether to pluck it or not. He finally pulled and explained he was from a small town in the southernmost part of Morrighan. When I asked the name, he said it was very small and had no name.

It was obvious he didn’t want to reveal exactly where he was from. Maybe he was escaping an unpleasant past like me, but that didn’t mean I had to swallow his story with the first bite. I could play with him a little. “A town with no name? Really? How very odd.” I waited for him to scramble, and he didn’t disappoint me.

“It’s only a region. A few scattered dwellings at most. We’re farmers there. Mostly farmers. And you? Where are you from?”

A nameless region? Maybe. And he was strong, fit, tanned from the sun like a farmer might be, but there was also so much that seemed very unfarmerish about him—the way he spoke, even the way he carried himself—and especially his unnerving blue eyes. They were fierce, like a warrior’s. They weren’t the eyes of a content farmer passing his days turning the soil.

I took the berry still poised in his fingers and popped it in my mouth. Where was I from? I narrowed my eyes and smiled. “A small town in the northernmost part of Morrighan. Mostly farmers. Only a region, really. A few scattered dwellings. At most. No name.”

He couldn’t restrain a chuckle. “Then we come from opposite but similar worlds, don’t we?”

I stared at him, entranced that I was able to make him laugh. I watched his smile slowly fade from his face. Gentle lines still creased his eyes. His laugh seemed to relax everything about him. He was younger than I originally thought, nineteen maybe. I was intrigued by—