I froze, eyebrows shooting up at her exclamation. My stallion came to a halt as I took in the scene.
Nienna elbowed her friend, who wheezed. They both dropped into a curtsy, hers being far too low for her station. “My king!”
Curse it, they were sneaking around Reem, pretending to be common noblewomen.
I cleared my throat, shifting in the saddle. One hand rested on the pommel, the other on my hip as I tilted my head and waited.
Hoodlums swirled about like a ragged cloud, keeping their distance but bowing in awkward, uncoordinated movements. Grubby hands grasped at Nienna’s dress, pulling at her as they jostled her forward.
She flashed me a hesitant smile, swaying with their tugs. Her mouth opened, then closed, as though searching for something to say.
“It seems you’re at a loss for words, my lady,” I teased, letting her scramble for an explanation.
“I—I beg your pardon, my king. I’ve just lost a wager,” she stammered, her face deepening in color.
The woman beside her grimaced and edged a step away.
“And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?” I inquired, voice low and steady.
She seized the woman’s arm in a grip that could have snapped bone, snapping a smile that was more like a flash of teeth. “This is my handmaid–”
“Noblewoman Scythe,” the brunette blurted, dropping into a curtsey that was a more forced movement than a graceful gesture.
I squinted at them, Nienna’s grin faltering as a girl yanked at her skirts. “That’s an unusual name,” I murmured, trying to place the woman.
“You lost! You have to race us!” the girl demanded, ignoring my presence. She was small, her dress a tattered brown, a size too short. Her hand gripped Nienna’s as though it might be the only thing keeping her tethered to the world.
“I couldn’t beg your horse, could I, Your Majesty?” Her laugh wavered, betraying the nervous edge in her voice.
“‘Tis a beast reserved for royalty, I’m afraid,” I replied with a sigh. She wanted to play games, I would let her. Within Reem, Greaves and I could watch over her and protect her despite her lack of guards.
That, and I remembered her inexperience with horses.
“Drat.”
Her mild curse surprised me. I raised an eyebrow as she huffed, then straightened her posture.
“If you’ll excuse me, dear King,” she spun from me—actuallyturned her backon me, “I have a race to win.”
Her voice trailed off as I stared at her bare shoulders, glowing in the sunlight. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, my focus locked on the way she tied her hair. A bead of sweat ran down her neck, following the curve of her shoulder before disappearing into the fabric of her dress. I gripped the saddle tighter than I meant to, watching a few tendrils of hair slip free.
The urge to sweep them away—and taste that exposed skin—struck me like a fist to the chest.
When she gathered her skirts, hiking them between her knees, the impulse to sweep her onto my horse and ride straight to the safety of the castle nearly overtook me.
The smile faded from my lips, replaced by a dry mouth as she yanked the hem through her belt, revealing her legs.
They were wrapped in fabric that caused the children to giggle and point. But the tan trousers clung to her like a second skin, shaping every curve as she adjusted the waistband.
As she twisted, the definition in her thick thigh caught the light.
A snort tore my gaze from Nienna’s legs, and I snapped toward the ‘noblewoman’ at her side.
Who was she? And what lent her the confidence to snicker at me as if she’d spotted me ogling the princess’ body?
Good gods. I had.
Heat washed over me, thick and shameful. I cleared my throat and straightened, one hand resting on my belt.
