50 The deadline

"'Cael… Oh, Cael… I'm yours.'"

Soft curves under his hands. Heat between bodies. Moans of passion.

Someone arguing nearby.

Awareness surged into Cael's mind. He opened his bleary eyes, realizing that the tantalizing vision he had just seen was merely a dream. Not an uncommon kind of dream, too.

More troubling was that the voice in it belonged to Ginevra.

Ginevra. He didn't talk much to her since the time he fed her that cursed broth.

Her admission had disturbed him. It was honest to a fault, which made matters harder for Cael. It would've been so easy if Ginevra just… changed sides! So easy.

But he couldn't treat her badly, either. Especially when he wanted to just kiss those pink lips of hers and soothe her every hurt. Even going to the hospital tent and looking at the wounded didn't help. It was too easy to argue that Ginevra was only following her father's commands.