When Prince Jorlan steps into our room, I’m already sitting on the edge of the bed in a soft nightgown with a matching robe draped over my shoulders. My hair is still damp from the bath I took earlier, and I almost don’t look up when he walks in.

“Are you feeling unwell?” he asks, concern lining his tone. He crosses the room swiftly, pressing the back of his hand to my forehead as if searching for a fever.

I offer him a faint smile. “Not exactly sick,” I ...