His shoulders.

His wind-tossed hair.

The rigid line of his jaw.

The redness of the blood trickling down his cheek.

His half-parted lips.

I swallowed to quell the tremor in my throat. “I should like to inspect you … before our wedding day.”

There were snickers from the soldiers around us, but I saw only Rafe’s face and his imperceptible nod as he returned my gaze.

Every tight thing within me went slack.

“But the prince ignored my note,” I said weakly.

“I’m sure he deeply regrets that decision, Your Highness,” Rafe answered.

I had signed the marriage documents myself.

Rafe. On that much he hadn’t lied.

Crown Prince Jaxon Tyrus Rafferty of Dalbreck.

I remembered how he had looked at me that first night in the tavern when he told me his name, waiting to see if there was any glimmer of recognition. But a prince had been the last thing I was looking for.

“Shackle him and bring him along,” Kaden said. “The Komizar will kill him if he’s lying. And search the surrounding hills. He couldn’t have come alone.”

Rafe pulled against the soldiers who twisted his hands behind his back to chain him, but his eyes never left mine.

I looked at him, not a stranger, but not a farmer either. It had been a clever deception from the very beginning.

The wind swirled between us, threw mist in our faces. Whispered. In the farthest corner … I will find you.

I wiped at my eyes, the real and true blurring.

But I knew this much. He came.

He was here.

And maybe, for now, that was all the truth I needed.