When Myra and Fawx arrived at the decoy tree after getting the cave flag, they found Soren bound and gagged at the base of the trunk. He was a bit disheveled —and looked like a cat primed to hiss and spit— but unharmed. Ronan and Owain returned as Fawx was cutting his ropes.

“What happened?” Myra asked.

“I was tackled from behind while one climbed for the decoy and the rest stood guard. There were more than five.” His velvet voice was lined with steel.

She shared a look with Fawx.

“The other teams must’ve joined forces,” Fawx said.

“And when they realized it was a decoy?” Myra asked.

Soren shook his head. “The climber took it with him. He, at least, is continuing the charade.”

She hummed in thought.

“There is another matter,” Soren said.

All eyes on him, but his remained fixed on the ground. His throat bobbed, and he breathed deep.

“After they restrained me, I was searched. They took the tower flag.”

Owain hissed a curse. Myra ground her jaw back and forth, until boiling rage burst from the pit of her stomach in a guttural scream. She spun away, acid tears burning a course down her cheeks, muscles locked in tense rigor. Her trembling legs gave out, and she plopped to the ground. A shuffle of dry, fallen leaves and someone sat beside her.

“Don’t be too hard on Soren,” Ronan said.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “I’m not angry at Soren. It’s clear that he was ambushed and grossly outnumbered.”

Soren sat on the other side of her. “You sound confident of that assessment.”

She stared him down, then nodded at his curved blade. “The swordsmiths who make those only give them to persons who have proven their battle prowess. If you’d had any chance to unsheathe it, you wouldn’t have been tied up when we got here.”

“You know a lot about my sword.”

She tapped her hand scythes. “My instructor has a sword like yours.”

Fawx and Owain sat in front, rounding out the circle.

Fawx nudged her foot. “Then why are you upset?”

“I’m disappointed in myself. You all put your faith in me as your leader, and I let you down. I didn’t see this coming; the other teams joining forces. What’s worse is that it’s a strategy I’ve used before!”

Ronan laid his hand on top of hers. “Sorry, Myra. I think we put too much pressure on you, expecting you to make all the decisions. That’s not what good teammates do.”

The warmth of his hand on hers accompanied by the kindness in his jade green eyes caused a matching heat to simmer in her chest. Her eyes flitted over to Fawx. A rock tumbled through her stomach at his expression. She closed her eyes and swallowed. Why had her parents thought this was a good idea?

Owain spoke, unknowingly breaking the tension inside her. “Ronan and I think all the other teams have gathered at the fort.”

She smiled at him, stood, and brushed off her pants. “Then that’s where we’re headed. We can make a plan when we see what’s there.”

*****

They stopped at the edge of the forest. After a short argument with Myra, Fawx climbed a tree for a better view of the inside of the fort. He’d brought a pair of binoculars.

“They have the tower flag and our decoy up on two corners of the battlement,” he called down from his perch. “The fort flag is on a pole in the middle of the grounds. All the doors are closed, except for a small side door on the north wall. Could be a trap. It’s most likely a trap.” He counted under his breath. “All twenty of our opponents are spread throughout the fort. Looks like there are two guards per flag and the rest of them are roaming around.”

She sighed and checked the level of the sun in the sky. “Late afternoon. Not too long until sunset, but there should be plenty of time for us to get the last two flags if you want to. Or we can stick with the three that we have. Three is enough for a victory.”

“What do you want to do, Myra?” Ronan asked.

She twisted her lower lip. “I’ve never had such talented teammates before, nor been this close to a clean sweep.” Her eyes sparkled. “Let’s go for it.”

Three out of four readily agreed while Ronan released a small sigh before adding his consent. She beamed at her teammates and gathered them close around, laying out a detailed plan of attack using everyone’s strengths to the best of her abilities. Although, she kept Ronan to herself. She’d hardly spent any time with him all day.

On hands and knees, she and Ronan slowly crawled through tall grass to the opposite side of the fort. She’d sent the other three to sneak in through the open northern door. Once inside, two would recapture the tower flag and the third would open the eastern door for her and Ronan.

She dropped behind and tugged on his ankle. “So, what does my inside man think of my options?”

He looked over his shoulder at her, one eyebrow raised. “What do you think of them?”

She chewed on her lips and caught back up. “Owain’s a decent man, but he’s not the right fit for me. He’s a bit” —she hummed— “much.”

Ronan snorted and tried to hide a smile. It made his jade green eyes shine and his dimples pop.

“Soren is . . .”

“Not who everyone thinks he is,” he interrupted. “He’s dangerous, Myra. You can’t trust him.”

“What do you mean? How can you tell?”

“This isn’t my first encounter with Grand Archon Marius’ son.”

“You mean nephew. Soren is Marius’ nephew.”

Ronan stopped crawling to look into her eyes. “No. Soren is his son. But the Grand Archon of all mages couldn’t possibly have a non-magical son, could he? Very few know the truth. I’m not even sure if Soren knows.”

Myra swallowed and continued moving. “How do you know?”

“My mentor used to be a renowned midwife. Soren’s birth had complications, so they called for her. He barely survived; his mother didn’t.”

“And your mentor told you this?”

He shook his head. “When I was maybe fifteen, an angry kid came looking for her, blaming her for taking away his magic. He was only twelve or thirteen, but he was filled with so much hate and rage. He tried to kill her. After he left, she told me the story of his birth.” He sighed. “The darkness I saw in him that day, it’s still there.”

She crawled in silence for a few moments. “Maybe it’s the darkness of a child that grew up without love. Not the darkness of one who inflicts pain on others.”

“Perhaps.” His voice softened as he continued, “But I don’t want to take that chance with you.”

The simmering heat returned to her chest and expanded to her cheeks.

“That just leaves Fawx,” she said.

A flash of his wink flitted through her mind, accompanied by fluttering in her stomach. She didn’t want to talk about Fawx with Ronan.

“And me.”

Her upper arms gave out. In a hushed tone, she asked, “Are you an option?”

“I’d like to be, if you’ll have me.”

She closed her eyes. “How did you sleep last night?”

His low chuckle sent shivers down her spine. “A little better, though not as well as at home. The servants changed the mattress, but the new one was still a bit lumpy.”

“Can you bear with it for one more night?”

“For you I’d be willing to endure many uncomfortable things, Myra. Including lumpy mattresses.” He nudged her shoulder. “You are unlike any woman I have ever met. Intelligent, brave, bold, and beautiful.”

He tucked a stray wisp of her dark brown hair behind her ear, licked his lips and leaned in. The simmering heat exploded into a raging inferno accompanied by the drumbeat of her heart. She desperately wanted to let his lips connect with hers, but one question held her back. She pulled away.

“Would your people approve?”

“Huh?”

“Would the citizens of the city-state of Dinas Tov approve of their Taran marrying a crown princess?”

After several moments of silence, he answered, “I don’t know.”

She resumed crawling. “Did you always want to be the Taran?”

“I never wanted to be Taran. My mentor nominated me for the last election and the people chose me. I do my best for them every day.”

“I’ve heard that it’s a lifelong position, like a king, even though you’ve been elected by popular vote?”

“Yes. I’ll be the Taran until I die.”

The sadness in his eyes caused a lump to form in her throat. She put her hand on his arm.

“You said you didn’t want to be the Taran. What did you want to be?”

His half-smile highlighted a dimple. “I was going to be a travelling doctor.”

She looked him over thoughtfully. “That explains why a political leader had a midwife for a mentor. And why you think all problems are solvable.”

He shushed her, eyes flicking to the wall above. They’d reached their destination and now sounds of a scuffle echoed down. A knife dropped beside Myra. She looked up in time to catch a wink from Fawx. Two minutes later, he was grabbing his knife and running back inside through the newly opened door. He’d also managed to sneak in a peck on her cheek.

“I guess that’s our cue,” she said.

Ronan nodded and together they stepped into the doorway.

All the color drained from her face. Her teammates had gotten the two missing flags, but now the three of them were backed into a corner, penned in by the combined forces of the other teams.

“We have to help them,” she whispered, wide-eyed.

She pulled out her hand scythes and took three determined steps forward. A wooden stick across her chest yanked her back into Ronan’s arms. He held his staff firm, not giving an inch as she struggled.

“Why?”

“If you rush out there without a plan, you’ll end up getting into the same mess,” he answered.

A man stepped out of the shadows, pointing a sword at her throat. “He’s right, you know. You’re in quite a mess, Princess.”

He motioned them forward. Ronan dropped his staff to the side, releasing Myra. She flexed her scythes.

“Ah, ah, ah. Don’t even think about it.” The sword-holder called over his shoulder, “And why don’t you gentlemen go ahead and put your weapons down as well.”

Myra watched, helpless, as Owain, Soren, and Fawx dropped their weapons. Her hands tightened on hers and fury flashed through her stormy blue eyes. The sword tip slid uncomfortably close to her skin.

“Search them for those flags.”

She stared her captor down, chest heaving, as the day’s hard work disappeared in the blink of an eye.

*****

Myra knocked on Soren’s door.

“Come in,” his velvet soft voice answered.

“Sorry to disturb you. There was a question I forgot—”

She stopped when she saw the tiny rocks in his hand, though he tried to hide them behind his back. She bit her lip and backed out the door.

“Guess that answers that. Ronan was right; you can’t be trusted.”

He tossed the gravel on the floor with a growl. “Myra, wait! I can explain.”

But she’d already turned the corner.