Black Morass timor

He did not call her out on her bluff—whether because he was oblivious, a gentleman, or he simply didn’t care… the checkmark could have been by any of those options.

Instead, she could see the way in which he tried to restrict movement—subtle, allowing himself to slide down a nearby tree, continuing on with conversation that she felt best left behind. Within five minutes of being within the man’s presence, he was already trying to convince her to find a home for the winter.

One in a desert, far from here.

A crooked smile came—did he fear her presence around his children? Eligible sons, perhaps? Wouldn’t want the rebellious princess to rub off on them, no doubt…

Her eyes followed him, and she swept upward, though made no move to encroach upon his space. “Do you know of anyone who can look after your wounds for you? Your children, perhaps?” She paused, a glimmer of mischief setting in. “A lady friend? Or a man friend?”

She teased at him... but the truth was, he looked to be in need of a healer, and she disliked the idea of the man withering away to pride.