The sun is sinking low, and even so, outside is far brighter than I anticipate. I squint as I walk and eventually realize I’m heading toward Soren rather than wherever the princess is. I laugh at myself.
“Might one of you direct me to Princess Rosa?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Yarl says and steps in the lead.
He continues in the same direction. Perhaps she’s watching from the rim as I did earlier?
But no, he’s aiming for the area where Soren fought. What is the princess doing in the arena?
At the end of the tents, I pause. Even at this distance and with his back facing me, I mark Soren, his white hair and dark horns unmistakable. Coming toward him is what appears to be a herd of attendants with two women striding ahead of them. One of them is Tilly.
As Soren turns to greet them, the other launches herself into his arms.
Shock stills me in place. I watch as she embraces him, as she draws back to flash him a brilliant smile even as she continues clinging to his sides.
This can’t be Princess Rosa. This must be someone else, a cousin, or some distant relation. No unwed princess of a major power like Ilanthren would act so—
She lays a hand on his bare chest.
My eyes instinctively dart away at the impropriety. To touch him while he’s so scantily clothed, here, in front ofeveryone. Grown woman or not, my mother would drag me from sight out of shame.
My feet start toward them of their own accord. She’s no longer touching him, but she remains close, throwing her head back and laughing at something he says. All my thoughts of mistresses come roaring back.
No, no. Nothing about the way Soren kissed me spoke of someone else. And yet, maybe he kisses every woman like that. Maybe I’m too naive to know better.
Maybe he’s kissed her like that.
I give myself a shake. This is mad. Yes, she embraced him like a—well, in an indecent manner, but that doesn’t mean he has feelings for her, or her for him. She’s probably an old family friend.
As if responding to an invisible tug, Soren’s head ticks my way. His eyes take me in like a man being offered a drink after a day’s work in the wilderness, and I take heart from his notice.
Until I take a good look at Princess Rosa.
There can be no doubt of who she is. Like many Ilanthrens, she has red hair and ivory skin. But I’m doing her an injustice.
Her hair is like rubies, and her skin isflawless.
She’s dressed in her homeland’s style, with an off-shoulder dress held up by frills and fortitude, and somehow she seems to be bearing it all without a trace of sweat.
And here I am before them now, sticky, disheveled, and almost certain I have sand in my undergarments.
“Oh, Soren,” she says, draping her hand over his arm as she looks me up and down. “She’s lovely.”
I will myself not to look at that hand.
Soren doesn’t. He blinks down at it as if puzzled over how it came to be there.
Tilly suddenly springs toward me, blocking my view. “Serah! I was so worried about you.”
I force myself to swallow and work up a smile. “Why ever so?”
Her mouth drops open. “Because Soren told us not to leave, and then you were gone, and the next thing I hear, you have three guards sworn to you.”
“Oh, so she’s feisty as well.” Princess Rosa says, her mouth puckering in an effort not to smirk. “I’m sure you like that.” This she directs at Soren.
“Yes,” he says without taking his eyes off me. “I like everything about her.”
Stepping away from her, he comes to stand in front of me, bringing with him a scent of hot earth and fire, two things I did not know could smell so strangely enticing.
