“No, actually, I don’t! I tuned out all those awful things, choosing to focus on the fact that theoneperson I believed truly cared about me was there!” I shouted. The horse nickered, pushing Sainte with its shoulder. “Come to find out, he didn’t care! I was just a tool, a pawn he could slip into place for his own agenda. Someone he could control!”
“You were never a tool to me.” The brush strokes faded as he stilled. “You were only ever Elspeth.”
The remorse in his tone sapped the anger from my bones, if not the rebellion.
“Sainte–”
I sighed and walked around the stallion to face him. He refused to meet my gaze, staring at the sweat-soaked horsehair.
“If I was not a tool then, why am I now?”
My heart twisted and ached in my chest as he took a deep shuddering breath, then braced himself against the horse, studying me.
“Who am I?”
“What?” I shook my head, confused.
He closed his eyes, forcing his patience, and repeated his question. “Who am I?”
“Sainte…?”
“Aye, nowwhatam I?”
“A soldier?”
“A Wynterborne soldier,” he corrected. The dark circles under his pained, tired gaze conveyed just how hard he pushed himself on this journey. “A Wynterborne citizen sworn to uphold and honor the people. I serve the crowned, and uncrowned—the protector of both. Does that make me only a tool?”
A scowl scrunched my features. “Well, I guess you’re a pawn too, then,” I huffed. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
He pushed off the horse and held his arms out in supplication. “Am I not still Sainte? The man who rode hard for weeks to greet a girl once a year? Tell me, Elspeth, am I just a tool for your birthday mischief?”
I dropped my gaze and scuffed the dirt with the toe of my boot. He couldn’t fathom his significance in my life. To express the depth of my feelings, the extent of how deeply I cared, seemed impossible. He wasn’t a tool or a pawn—not to me. I considered him a friend, a loyal companion, even if only for one day.
I sniffed and ignored his question, choosing to go sit by the saddle. He let me sulk as he tended his horse. His only words were soft murmurings as he felt the beast’s legs. As the sun sank near the horizon, I curled into myself. Exhaustion weighed heavily on me, both physical and mental. Inner conflict ran rampant—a desire to please Sainte, to do as he asked, clashed against the urge to flee.
I was scared.
I wasn’t afraid to voice my thoughts—I was terrified. Not because of my brother. I hadn’t seen Adastrus in years. He was nothing more than a terrible story, a bad dream. With Sainte at my side, I feared no man.
I was afraid of letting people down.
I was a street rat. A commoner. I was Elspeth of Landing’s End, not a princess. I didn’t know the first thing about high court or politics. What about the dances and proper etiquette? Not only would I make a fool of myself, but I would embarrass all those who hoped I was something more. I stuck out like a sore thumb in Port Siren’s noble district. How much worse would I fare when thrown into a palace and paraded about as royalty?
Sainte’s groan echoed in the dimming light as he settled beside me. The sudden widening of my eyes betrayed my surprise as he took hold of my hands, winding a rope around my wrists. A sharp sting of betrayal cut deeper as each knot tightened. Tension sparked, palpable and all-consuming, as he looped the rope about his waist, securing our bond.
“You are Princess Elspeth of Wynterborne, a tool to be usedwisely, by yourself and others.” He pushed out an exasperated sigh, leaning against the saddle. “But you are also a person. You won’t lose yourself.”
I deflated, and the emotion clogging my throat seeped through my chest, straight to my heart.
The rough rope dug into the soft skin on my wrists as I fought to hold the flood of hopeless tears at bay.
“I wouldn’t let you,” he muttered.
Chapter 8
Days blurred by in a rush. And while the animosity and tension between us dissipated, we only spoke as much as necessary. I struggled to maintain my anger at the man who, no matter what I threw at him, still cared about me. No matter how often I ran away, or spit in the face of his efforts, he always found me.
He was nothing if not loyal… even if only to his own cause.
