Taking in the modest, unassuming inn, Jovine frowned as she noticed the rotting wood and the overgrown vines climbing across the stone steps.

“Are you sure this is the place?”

Elias craned his neck, his sights settling on something in the back. “Yes,” he muttered absently.

Her frown deepened. Located on the outskirts of the Capital, it was close enough to the Palace but far from the comforts of luxury. Instead of the golden structures boasting heavily jeweled interiors with extravagant suites and high-class amenities, this building seemed more like a single-home cottage that hadn’t been tended to for several months.

This was no place for a noble and far from being an adequate, standard host for someone as highly regarded as the Grand Duke. Jovine told her brother as much, but Elias ignored her reservations and took hold of her elbow, guiding her away from the entrance. They stopped before an elevated wooden fence surrounding the small inn.

“But, the entryway is —”

Before Jovine could finish, Elias hurled himself over the gate in one fluid swing.

“Elias!” she hissed, her mouth gaping open as she whipped her head around, hoping no one just saw her brother trespassing.

From the lengthy height of the fence, she couldn’t sight her brother’s face. Exasperation raced to the balls of her feet, her mind racing indecisively on whether she should attempt to jump over or plan all the ways she’d pummel her brother’s face when she saw him again.

As if he could hear her grumbling, the fence squeaked open to her brother’s smirk. Jovine shot her hand out, trying to pull him back out. “There is a perfectly fine door at the front,” she whispered.

“You worry too much, Vinnie,” he smoothly said, evading her touch and walking into what looked like the building’s courtyard. “If you keep frowning like that, you’ll get wrinkles.”

Jovine’s eyes widened as she watched him casually stroll into private property. Debating whether or not she should follow, her instincts took over when a passing man on the road looked over at her frozen form in curiosity. Darting through the gate, Jovine slammed the fence shut and met her brother under a large oak tree planted in the middle of the fairly open garden. With rows of growing vegetables lining the exterior and wooden sheds nestled beneath a stairwell leading up to the inn, the large stretch of land seemed grander than the building itself.

“Lias, you can’t just intrude into someone’s courtyard,” she said under her breath, placing her body behind the tree’s large trunk.

Elias looked down at his watch. “My bad,” he murmured in a distracted voice.

“Let’s go back out and enter in a normal fashion like rational people. I just need a moment with him.”

A small smile quirked his lips, his eyes finally leaving the ticking hands on his watch. “I’m giving you something better.”

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“What?” Jovine asked, not liking the mischief in his tone.

The distant chatter of voices caught her attention. Her panicked eyes flew to the wooden door above the stairs. She cursed under her breath, turning to her brother and intent on dragging him out by force if she had to, but her mouth dropped open when all she saw was air.

Did he just leave her?

That little rascal —

“Oh! At least let me help with the small ones!” The raspy voice of an older woman clearly rang as the back door grinded open.

Jovine plastered her body to the tree, praying no one wandered to the opposite side of her poorly chosen hideaway.

“It’s really no trouble at all, Madam.”

Jovine straightened. That voice…she knew it. Lowering her hood and staying hidden in the darkened shade, she peeked past the tree, and the sight before her muddled her expectations.

A stout woman with graying curls framed around a warm face limped her way to the shed, her sun-kissed complexion beaming in gratitude. And trailing behind her was a man with silver hair. Loosely drifting along with the wind, the long, shimmery lengths fell across the broad shoulders of a man wearing a half-buttoned tunic that teased hints of muscled, golden skin and mud-stained black pants rolled up to his working calves. He balanced three large sacks on his shoulders as his corded forearms held them against his body with ease.

Jovine blinked.

Golden eyes, silver hair, rich voice — she knew who this was. And yet, she didn’t.

The Grand Duke she had met was always powerfully composed, his hair artfully tied back and his attire perfectly pressed and adorned. He was playful and dangerously flirtatious at times, but nothing like the boyish smile that glinted in the sunlight right now. Without all the fancy embellishments, he looked younger and comfortably common.

“Thank you, dear. You really didn’t have to,” the woman said bashfully, arranging the clutter in the shed as he easily placed the heavy sacks on the floor.

“It’s really my pleasure. I’m always glad to help.”

“Oh, my! Look at you withering in this heat.” The woman frantically waved her hands at the wet droplets staining his shirt into a sheer film that plastered itself to the lines of naked muscle moving underneath the fabric. With his back turned, Jovine got a full glimpse of his strength.

“I do admit, I’m not used to the temperatures here,” he admitted with a smile in his voice.

“Well, you wait right here and cool off. I’ll bring you a glass of lemon ale. Ronnie just squeezed a fresh batch this morning!”

He chuckled. “I won’t refuse one of Ronnie’s concoctions.”

“Splendid,” the woman clapped, scurrying as fast as she could into the inn.

Jovine shot back behind the tree. He was alone now, and she was unsure how to proceed. She had come all this way to meet the man, but now that the moment approached, she didn’t know how to start. Here she was, disguised and hiding suspiciously as she watched him like a spying weasel. She couldn’t even begin to explain herself.

Despite all reasoning, her curiosity had her peeking out again.

Arranging the newly stacked sacks, he grunted as he continued working. She didn’t know how long she observed his efforts until he finally exited the shed with a clap of his dusted hands and sweat pasting his long hair to his face. Squinting up at the sun, he ran his long fingers through his silver locks and abruptly ripped his tunic off his body.

Jovine gulped, her eyes automatically averting from the flash of bare skin. Even from her periphery, she noticed that Amon vel Feyras must be an extremely active man. He was certainly blessed with cords of hardened muscle etched into every crevice of his skin. Her face burning, she settled herself firmly behind the trunk.

The sound of footsteps neared the tree, and her body locked up when his tired sigh resonated opposite from her where she stood. From the way his boots scratched against the wood, she guessed he was leaning on the trunk to rest.

Crap. How did she approach him? Should she even try? Damn you, Elias. I swear, when you get back —

“You’re terrible at hiding yourself back there.”

She choked on her breath.

The breeze carried his amusement to her pounding eardrums. “You might as well come out now.”