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“Princess.” Straight and stoic.
The word shot through Evelyn, and if she’d had her flame, she would have scorched the entire square in anger. She hated the word, having heard it used loosely throughout her life. The Daughter of the Goddess was not royalty, but it didn’t deter some witches from treating her so, in positive and negative ways.
“Don’t call me that.” Evelyn bit out the words, fighting the urge to scream.
Cyrus appeared intrigued rather than deterred. It only made Evelyn angrier. Why did his appraisal rile her?
“You’re acting as if Bleu isn’t good enough—”
Evelyn threw up her hands in frustration. “It is not the horse. I expected maybe a wagon or a carriage.”
“You mention a carriage, and yet I’m not supposed to call you a princess?” Cyrus assessed her while he adjusted the saddle of the horse, large enough for two. He followed her gaze and hmphed. “If it’s sharing a saddle that worries you, I will keep a respectable distance.”
Evelyn’s eyes widened at his suggestion. Fucking flames, this couldn’t get any worse. “It is not you, Huntsman.”
He shot her a smile. “Good.” He didn’t believe her, that was clear. “Or maybe you’ve never ridden a horse before? Is that it?”
She shut her eyes and shook her head. At this point, he was toying with her, and they were wasting time. She pushed past him, grazing his shoulder. She gripped the saddle, jumped, and swung herself over in one fluid, athletic move.
Evelyn averted her gaze and focused on the town’s buildings and hills beyond—not the distance between her and the cobblestone ground. Fear coursed through her like acid, but she kept it at bay, masking it with an indifferent scowl. She couldn’t show Cyrus her fear. Leaping up onto the horse at least helped, and Evelyn appreciated the surprise on Cyrus’s face from her successful mount.
“Care to join, or do you plan to walk alongside us?”
Something glinted in Cyrus’s eyes, but Evelyn couldn’t place it. Mischief? Triumph? She didn’t have long to wonder, as Cyrus gripped the saddle and joined her atop Bleu.
With their combined weight, the horse took a few steps to adjust. He huffed as Cyrus reached past Evelyn’s waist, keeping a respectable distance as promised, and tugged on the reins to start their journey.
For an entire hour, neither of them spoke. Evelyn focused on the sights around her, so very different from Sorin. They kept to the northern path, passing whitewashed cottages and humble farms. Sheep grazed like long fallen clouds on the hills, while ancient castle ruins jutted out of the earth as if they grew from the dirt like buttercups. Moss-marred stone painted the land with another shade of green.
Callum possessed a rich magic, and Evelyn loved it.
She relished its ability to be ancient yet fresh, from the vibrant grass to the salty wind. Life buzzed even outside the town, as if the land manifested it deep in its core. Perhaps the tales of the faeries retiring underground held some truth.
The sights only did so much to distract Evelyn from Cyrus pressed against her back. Even though he leaned a little away from her, sticking true to his word, they could not avoid touching while riding double. His strong thighs ran parallel to hers, and Evelyn shuddered, cursing her very wicked thoughts. She prayed to the Goddess more than once that Cyrus had a dagger in his pocket that kept grazing her backside and not something else entirely.
Aside from being mortified, a festering fear made her sick to her stomach. During the last two years, she’d walked hundreds of miles, hitched rides on wagons, and even sailed on ships. She had her staff, and that was all she needed. Not once had she traveled on horseback. The last time she’d ridden one had been the day her parents had died.
Evelyn blinked the memories and emotions away. No matter the time that passed, it all felt raw and fresh, a wound that refused to close. She and her parents had ridden from Sorin with a small guard to meet the Drengr pack, her betrothed’s family, and discuss wedding preparations. It all seemed so silly now, how she’d fidgeted on her saddle under the blazing sun, annoyed Kade wouldn’t be there, thanks to “the guidance of the Elders,” when in the end she’d lost her parents.
Bleu trotted over loose rock, and Evelyn stiffened. The rocks clattered behind them, but she didn’t dare look down. If she didn’t see the distance to the ground, sometimes it helped.
Cyrus tightened his hold on the reins and, as a result, his arms around her waist. “Saige, you’re tense. What is the matter?”
Sincerity laced his tone, and Evelyn’s shoulders lightened.
She sighed. She couldn’t tell him that being on a horse reminded her of the day her parents died, but if they were to be partners, she could be honest about one thing.
“I . . .” She swallowed. “I hate heights.”
Behind her, Cyrus stiffened as if he were surprised by her admission.
“So, like I said, while Bleu is adequate, he’s a little farther off the ground than I like.”
Cyrus was silent for a moment, long enough for Evelyn to feel foolish until he said, “Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?”
Evelyn shrugged. “I didn’t want . . .”
You’re not good enough.
