I was more grateful than ever for my flexibility and agility from training with the sword, as well as my countless hours on horses as I explored the mountains around our home. If he wanted to force me to become his wife and ride all the way back to the snowy fortress in the north, I was going to make it the most excruciatingly long trek of his life.
Maybe if I was lucky, I’d freeze to death before we made it to the prison I was to call my home. If not, I’d settle for making this trip a blight on his memory.
It was clear from watching him on his horse for a bit that the beast within him was making the horse nervous, and the king himself had an awful seat. His ass was going to hurt from this trip, if I could drag it out as long as possible.
Hopping off of his large white and gray speckled horse, that stood about seventeen hands in height, he let out a heavy sigh and rustled through the large saddle bag. “Miserable wench,” he muttered.
Glancing over at the beautiful black mare I’d been meant to ride, not walk next to in companionship, I whispered, “What do you think he’s going to pull out of his bag of tricks next, girl?”
Her ear swiveled toward me as I spoke, before going forward once more, entirely focused on the king and his movement.
Neither of us trusted him.
I glanced at the king, wondering how he could make such a large horse seem small as I continued to walk forward with the reins in my bound hands. As I passed him, his scent enveloped me once more, and I scowled at myself for finding anything about this man appealing. Maybe I needed to stay ahead of him so the scent of horse dung wafted back onto him.
“Come on, you’re going to make us late,” I groaned dramatically, as if he was the problem here. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get there before sundown.”
Truly, this was marvelous work. Maybe he’d just send me home and be done with it.
“You’re infuriating!” he shouted, drawing my head back toward him as he pulled out a long coil of rope from the depths of his bag. With quick, determined steps, he closed the distance between us, his strong hand gripping my arm with a painful force. I winced at the pressure and tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened. "Get on the horse," he growled.
It was honestly infuriating how handsome he was when I looked at the side of his face that was entirely human looking. His full lips drew my eyes to them each time he spoke, and I marveled at how they could look so soft as such a harsh voice spilled from them. The sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones, however, matched the severity of his personality, and they were exaggerated every time he scowled and glared at me.
I let out a hum as if I was considering his demand.
The universe had done us all a favor with the curse, ensuring we couldn’t be forever fooled by the fake charisma he’d used atthe meeting this morning and a beautiful human face to pair with it. Those silver scales and calculating, slitted eye reminded me exactly who I was dealing with, no matter what tricks he pulled.
I let out a sigh and attempted to look compliant, even though every fiber of my being rebelled against it. "I still don’t know how to get back up on my own," I argued, holding up my bound hands with pleading eyes. “You’ll have to help me again.”
I absolutely could have done it on my own–but where was the fun in that?
He tightened his grip on my arm, causing me to wince again. Each time I’d slid off my mare, he’d practically tossed me back on, and it seemed he was tiring of my antics more now than each time before.
The pulsating pain intensified as the stitches from this morning's injury protested against the strain. I gritted my teeth and refused to give him any satisfaction as a familiar warmth ran down my arm from the reopened wound.
His nostrils flared, as if scenting the blood instantly.
“Make that stop,” he now demanded, taking a small step away and dropping my arm like it had personally offended him. “It will attract the beasts of the forest to this narrow pass.”
I made a show of glancing around me before throwing my hands in the air in annoyance, “Yeah, I’ll just go ahead and restitch the wound you tore open with the rocks and air around us! Great idea!”
His lips curled into a snarl as he shouted, “How was I supposed to know you had a pre-existing wound there?”
My voice rose to match his. “It wouldn’t have mattered at all if you wouldn’t have manhandled me like I’m cattle to be herded!”
A scoff of indignation worked its way out of him as he tilted his head and gestured at the mare. “You do have to be herded!You are the one that insists on getting off of your horse, or is your memory really that horrid?”
I swallowed the words on the tip of my tongue, hating that he had a point there. Instead, I deflected, “Why are we even on horses? We should be in a carriage befitting a king and a princess, if not just flying back, considering you can shift into a dragon!”
Save a horse, ride a dragon, or whatever–right?
He stilled at that, and the sudden silence wrapped us like the blanket I’d been asking for. We stood a few feet apart, glaring at each other until he finally spoke.
“You will never ride a dragon,” he quietly seethed, training his serpentine eye on me as it began to glow. “Only those with a bond befitting a rider are given the honor of that, and you, dear wife, are not worthy.”
It felt like the biggest punch to the gut, being insulted like that, and I didn’t have the mental capacity to figure out why it impacted me so deeply.
Did I even want to be on the back of the beasts?
