Malachi worked fast once he'd made up his mind. That should have reassured me. Instead it made me nervous, because a prince who can arrange five horses, travel supplies, and a covert exit route in under an hour is a prince who's done this before.
"You've snuck out of the palace before," I said, watching him fold a map with more precision than the situation required.
"Once or twice."
"Once or twice."
"I was younger." He didn't look up. "And bored. It's different now."
"Is it?"
He glanced at me then, and something passed between us that had nothing to do with maps or horses, and everything to do with the fact that he was about to defy his father for me. For all of us, I corrected myself, because it wasn't just about me, no matter what my stupid heart wanted to insist.
"Here." He handed me a folded bundle of clothes—plain wool, undyed, the kind of thing a merchant's daughter might wear on a long trip. "You'll want to look like you're going somewhere boring."
"Gee, thanks."
