Page 135 of Wings of Ash & Flame
“No. Though I always wanted a sister. Caius is my brother in every way that matters—except we don’t share blood. I’d return the question, but I doubt there are two lost heirs to the Vallorian throne.”
“Correct. My parents must’ve thought one hooligan running around was more than enough.”
Alaire’s stomach growled, and she pressed a hand to her abdomen.
“Hungry?” Dawson raised a brow in amusement.
“Starving.” She tried to muffle the embarrassing noises rumbling from her stomach.
He got up and walked to his pack by the fire, pulling out a small pot and several parcels of food. “The stew needs just a few minutes to warm up,” he said, setting the pot above the flames and emptying the packages.
“Here.” He tossed her a thick piece of bread. “That should tide you over.”
“Thank you. You thought of everything, didn’t you?” she said around a mouthful.
“I’m nothing if not prepared.” Dawson stirred the pot.
Alaire polished off the bread in just a few bites. When she was done, she watched him work, his movements simple andpracticed. She hadn’t expected a prince to know how to heat food, let alone handle a pot with such ease. Standing, her muscles ached from Dawson putting her through the ringer earlier. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“You could grab me two bowls. They should be beside my pack.”
She walked over, crouching when she didn’t see them. They were tucked under the top flap. “So,” she asked, handing him the bowls, “what’s it like growing up a prince?”
Dawson stared into the fire as if the flames clutched memories he’d rather not face. “It was… different. Most of my days were structured. Training at dawn. Lessons on history, politics, strategy, the original bloodlines, diplomacy. Hours upon hours of mastering every weapon you can think of. Thanks to that, I’m able to have you on your back in seconds.”
“You mean minutes,” she teased.
He stirred the pot more aggressively, broth sloshing over the rim. “Fuck.”
Alaire grabbed a towel from the pack to wipe up the spill. “I’ve got it.”
“Thanks.” He exhaled, resuming a calmer clockwise stir. “Caius called it the formula for ‘forging the perfect heir.’ Everything I did—and still do—is to serve a greater purpose. That’s the price of a crown.” His expression was carefully neutral.
Alaire tilted her head, studying him. “And did you ever get a chance to just be a kid? Get into trouble, have fun?”
“Caius and I…” He rubbed his jaw, the scrape of stubble rough as sandpaper. “Let’s just say we were too precocious for those at court’s taste. Much to my mother’s dismay, we practiced dueling in every room with decent cushions to launch off. Sometimes, we’d sneak into the woods for a few days. Out there, we could be whoever we wanted.”
Alaire laughed, the sound ringing through the night. “That’s it? Campfires and snacks? I was expecting something a bit more daring.”
“As we got older, our escapades got more scandalous,” he said with a snicker.
She arched a brow.
“As the heir, every action and decision was some form of training. Whether I knew it or not, my whole life was a test.” His knuckles whitened around the spoon.
He lifted the ladle to his lips, tasting the stew. The boiling broth filled the clearing with mouthwatering scents—roasted basil, thyme, a smoky hint of paprika. Her stomach growled again. He scooped the steaming stew into two bowls, the spoon clinking against the pot.
“Here.” He handed one to Alaire. Warmth seeped into her palms as she accepted it. She took a sip, savoring the flavor—tender chunks of meat, soft root vegetables, and a slow heat that lingered.
“Not bad at all, Knox,” she admitted. “I think you missed your calling as a chef. In case being a prince doesn’t work out.”
He shot her a loaded look. “I’m full of surprises.”
They ate in comfortable silence, the fire crackling and popping. Alaire watched Dawson through her lashes, his features somber and unyielding. A pang stirred in her chest, sharp and unnameable.
“Is being a king what you want?” she asked at last.
Dawson looked up, brows furrowed, his eyes dragging across her face as if she were a puzzle he couldn’t solve.
