The Cold Tent
The Prince did not look particularly amused.
But.
Saying such a thing was useless. That was about as useful as 'Sidera was looking rainy'. It didn't mean anything more than the usual state of affairs.
Donncahd was not a man often amused.
He just happened.
To be less amused.
Right then.
Sharing a smaller and more makeshift tent with her, pitched in the mountain pass in the dead of the night as they waited out a snow storm that made it too cold and dangerous to try to navigate in.
It wasn't as if she'd done anything to make the snowstorm start. She hadn't said anything that cursed them or tempted fate, now did she?
No.
She didn't.
She was a hapless captive of the journey, too busy shivering in the cold to be manipulating anyone.
Least of all the prickly prince who hated manipulation above all else.
She could get spicy and defiant, that much she admitted.