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‘Sap?’ I fingerspell.

He nods. ‘Yes, a kind of sap.’ His nose wrinkles and he stares at his fingers. ‘That is an odd word.’

I say nothing, watching as he concocts the beverage, letting the lichen-like substance stew in the sap, creating a steaming, bubbling mixture.

It’s not quite like tea, but something close, I guess.

It’s certainly not what we were served in that back room at the council meeting.

When it’s done, he holds it out to me to try, but I shake my head, not wanting to consume anything he’s made. I really don’t trust him. I don’t know why he came all the way out here. It’s unusual, and the more I think on it, the more it seems…wrong.

He places the small wooden mug to his lips and sips, his ears fluttering as he swallows. He’s leaning back against the counter, one of his hands curled against the lip of it.

My gaze shifts outside, and I see the sky has cleared, the rumbling green storm clouds having passed. He must notice where my eyes have landed because he sets the mug down and straightens.

‘Thank you for letting me come inside. It is never good to be caught in those storms.’ He startles me a moment later when he drags his flat palm over the side of my neck. He does it with purpose, like it means something. I’ve seen some Vyastil greeting and farewell customs, but this is…new.

And something in my gut tells me it’s something I should be very, very aware of. But I’m not going to ask him why he did it. Or what the meaning is. Instead, I take a single step back, then gesture for the door.

‘I wish you safe travels to your destination,’ I reply. When he doesn’t move right away, I walk toward it, and it seems he gets the message. I can feel him standing close behind me as I open the door, the fresh, warm air hitting my lungs.

I inhale and steady myself, turning around to face the prince.

Our eyes meet, a curious expression flickering across his face before it’s gone.

Then he dips his chin, his forehead touching mine, before he turns and disappears.

Eissa appears sometime after dinner, the heavy vibrations of his feet on the bare floor waking me from a comfortable doze. He finds me on the couch, tunic splayed open, my cheeks flushed from the heat coming in through the windows. It was cooler earlier, but the storm seemed to have carried it away, leaving only warm, humid air behind.

I blink over at him, my eyes heavy with sleep. He sets something next to me, his ears downturned, but then he catches my gaze and those ears perk up, fluttering.

My heart thunders in my chest as he steps toward me, his tail wrapped around his waist tightly as if to protect himself. I let my legs fall open and feel the weight of him leaning down to brush his face against my neck.

Only he freezes, his chest heaving as he smells me.

Then he’s pushing up, his eyes narrowed.

‘Who was here?’ he asks, a slash of a hand through the air.

I shake my head, my mind still foggy from sleep. But then I remember. Jyrion. How he just appeared and then lingered, his hand brushing across my neck before he left.

Did he do that on purpose?

I believe he never does anything without one.

‘Yes. But it was nothing more than someone seeking shelter from the storm.’

Eissa lets out a long breath, his tail curling around my wrist and placing it on his chest.

I splay my fingers there, feeling his hearts thundering beneath my palm.

‘You are not to let anyone in here without me knowing.’

I glance away, trying to pull my hand away, but he stops me, holding me against him.

‘Am I a prisoner here then? Am I not allowed to have friends?’

‘You are, but strangers…there are never strangers just wandering around this part of Erethar.’