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The fish-chandelier broke through the water’s surface as he yanked his arm up and over the water, releasing a triumphant battle cry.

I jumped up, clapping with excitement as at least thirty small fish dangled on the hooks, their short tails flapping.

“Well done!” I shouted.

“Thanks!” he yelled back, walking out of the water. “Enough for tonight, and breakfast in the morning.” He handed me the rope as water droplets beaded against his skin, rolling off his chest and down his abdomen.

Diverting my eyes, I turned to give him privacy. “I’ll take the fish up to Sigrid to put over the fire,” I said hurriedly, needing to put some distance between us. Between the aching in my chest and the heat building beneath my skin, I knew I was treading close to a line I couldn’t cross with the king.

It would be irrational to develop feelings for a man from a world that wasn’t my own, whom I was currently relying on for my survival.

Home. My only goal was to get back home.

Sigrid clapped when I arrived with the fish, taking the shiny contraption from me. “This thing works like a charm,” she said, the fire roaring behind her. “I set out a washcloth on your bed if you want to wash up. We won’t be back by water until we pass through here again on our way back home. And nothing’s worse than riding a horse feeling grimy.”

I sniffed myself, catching a whiff of stale sweat. “There might be one worse thing,” I offered. “Being in the desert for weeks without a washcloth or water. Nothing worse than a sandy, sweaty crotch.”

Sigrid scrunched her nose. “Were you stationed there?”

“Yeah, on my last tour.” The one where Aaron had saved my life. “Thank you for the washcloth,” I said, quickly moving toward my bed so the conversation couldn’t continue.

But Sigrid didn’t pry, understanding on her face.

I grabbed the washcloth, along with a fresh pair of pants and undergarments Leo had packed for me, and found a small alcove where I could undress in private by the lake.

Hanging my clothes on the nearest tree branch, I opted not to get in the water. Past trauma aside, who knew what was lurking in there. Instead, I dipped the cloth and did a quick strip-wash, hitting all the areas that counted. Once I felt clean enough, I slipped on my new clothes, along with Leo’s shirt; the scent of him still lingering on it.

By the time I made it back to camp, night had fallen and dinner was ready. And a plate of fresh fish waited for me on my makeshift bed.

I found Leo resting on his own bed, propped up on an elbow, popping pieces of fish into his mouth.

Like the night before, Leo’s bed of furs was the closest to mine.

I ate slowly, surprised at how flavorful the fish tasted, feeling better with each bite.

Between the half bath and warm fish, I wasn’t feeling as upset anymore. Plus, my injuries from the blast were tolerable without the tonic now.

I could make it a few more weeks here. I’d be okay.

I’d worked out that if Decodons, or Deks as Leo had called them, came from the portals that only opened once a month, they couldn’t attack my Earth again until the next full moon. That meant whatever condition Hunter and my friends were currently in couldn’t get any worse while I was gone. Unless, The Guard hadn’t been able to get the Deks under control . . . or the Deks could reproduce at lightning speed, and they’d taken over my entire planet . . .

There was also the matter of coming up with an excuse for where I’d been the entire month. I couldn’t expose Leo, and his world, after he’d saved my life and broken the law for me. To reveal such a secret would be wrong for several reasons. Plus, the leaders of my Earth had chosen to keep the secret of the worlds, so how could I be faulted for doing the same? No—I knew I’d only be able to trust those closest to me with the truth.

But working out a lie to tell The Guard was a later problem.

There was one thing that interested me more right now.

I turned toward Leo to find he was already studying me.

“I can see the wheels turning in your head,” he said. “Out with it.”

“Explain to me how magic works. Are you born with it?”

He tossed a piece of fish into his mouth, his jaw clenching as he chewed. Somehow making eating an art form.

“Thousands of years ago, everyone was born with it. At least a token of it. But over the years, it dwindled, and couplings of those with the strongest powers became somewhat of a standard, which established a magical royal line. Now, magic tends to run stronger among the royal lines and nobles.” He took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “But many people still have access to a good amount of it. Like Sigrid, she’s exceptional at fire-taming.”

I thought about the flame she’d created with just a flick of her wrist. “Do you get a say in the element you wield?”