The thought of Rykr with other women made my stomach turn, but I’d be a fool to think he lacked experience. I gave him a flippant shrug. “You asked me.”
“What do you think?”
The evasive answer was good enough. I bit my lip. Rykr was handsome enough to have any woman he wanted. “Fine. Keep your secrets,” I said, nudging the horse forward. “But if you’re going to keep dodging my questions, don’t expect me to answer yours either.”
Rykr tilted his head, a half-smile forming. “Fair enough, thistling.”
I ignored the teasing. “If we’re supposed to trust each other enough to survive this, maybe it’s time you stop hiding things from me.”
“My family doesn’t do love matches,” he said abruptly, in a dry tone. “Marriage is strictly for breeding, according to my father. And pedigree.”
He’d dodged my question again.
His bound wrists caught my attention, reminding me of what Ciaran had said about his lack of a Bloodbinding mark. For Rykr to be without it meant something dangerous—either he’d escaped the rite, or he was hiding something far worse.
Even though Darya rode several feet behind us, and we whispered, who knew if she might overhear something if I asked him about it now?
Darya possessed spellcraft powers. Given that could cover many things, I didn’t want to risk discussing anything truly suspicious with her nearby, no matter how friendly she’d been over the last few days.
Then again, she couldn’t overhear mind speak.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
Rykr’s thumb tapped against his iron cuff. “Now who’s the one in the other’s head?”
“If you’re allowed, then so am I.” I smirked over my shoulder. “Why don’t you have a Bloodbinding mark?”
The fingers on his right hand curled slightly. “Who says I don’t?”
A beat of silence passed before he added, “Maybe you’re looking for something you’re not supposed to find, Seren.”
His words, simple and calm, sent a chill through me.
“I noticed this morning when I put on your irons. You don’t have one. I may not have noticed before because plenty of Unbound Viori don’t have one. But you should—you’re from Pendara.” Transferring the reins to one hand, I tapped my fingers on the iron above his wrist. “Right here, no?”
His hand slipped down, then grabbed my wrist. His touch sent a delicious sizzle of heat down my veins, and my fingers flexed. “Sometimes we can’t see what’s right in front of us, Seren.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” My breath caught, my body increasingly aware of the effect of his thumb brushing lightly over the sensitive skin of my wrist. His palm slid up the back of my hand, then his fingers interlaced with mine, curling down. My fingers curled reflexively, my pulse speeding. I leaned back against him without thinking, heady with mounting desire.
“Sometimes marks don’t mean what people think they do,” he murmured, glancing at Darya as if to check whether she was listening. His voice was too quiet, too careful.
My fingers tightened around the reins. What kind of secret was he keeping, and why was it important enough to hide even now?
The tension in his answer settled uneasily in my chest. Whatever it was, I couldn’t shake the feeling that knowing might change everything.
Rykr’s lips skimmed my earlobe. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”
I drew a sharp breath, then scowled, yanking my hand away. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and hold the reins? I’m going to read so I can prepare a defense at Emberstone to save your ass. Again.” I needed all the information I could get if I wanted any chance of living.
“Yes, because your last plot to save my ass worked so well. If I recall correctly, the death threats haven’t let up since then. Not to mention the deadly trial we’re facing. Maybe I should take over the plotting for a while.”
His teasing tone cut through my irritation. “I don’t need to plot. I could outsmart you in my sleep.”
His blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he took the reins from me. “You think of me while you sleep?”
I shook my head, struggling to keep the smile off my lips while I tugged a book from my satchel. “It’s more like a recurring nightmare, actually.”
He laughed and my heart squeezed, a strange mixture of pleasure and worry. I snuck a look toward my friends—my faithful allies—who might view every shared laugh and whisper as further evidence of my shifting loyalty.
