Her curiosity flickered. “Where first?”
Kaelen leaned in, grin returning. “You’ll see.”
They led her along a winding path away from the palace, the gardens fading into the hush of the desert. Ahead, a grand rectangular structure loomed under the moonlight, its stone walls bathed in a silvery glow. The soft nickering of horses from within confirmed her suspicion.
The royal stables.
Stepping inside, warmth enveloped them—thicker, richer, filled with the mingling scents of hay, oiled leather, and the deep, musky breath of horses. Lantern light flickered against the polished wood, illuminating rows of magnificent Asadian warhorses. Tall and broad-chested, their sleek coats gleamed obsidian and chestnut, muscles rippling beneath glossy hides. These were not mere steeds; they were bred for endurance, for the unrelenting extremes of the Numeria Desert—like Shahram and Ruhasul.
Her fingers brushed over the muzzle of a midnight stallion. Warmth ghosted her palm before he pressed closer, nuzzling her in quiet curiosity.
“They’re magnificent,” she murmured. “I’ve never seen such powerful creatures.”
Kaelen said, “We breed the finest warhorses in the nine kingdoms. But there’s one I think you’ll find even more special.”
He led her toward the far end of the stable, past the mighty stallions, to a stall set apart from the rest.
A single white mare stood inside, her coat gleaming like spun moonlight. Unlike the others, she didn’t stir at their approach. She watched them, eyes calm and knowing, her long mane cascading in waves as she tilted her head.
Something tightened in Reiya’s chest—a pull, an instinctive need to touch, to comb her fingers through the mare’s mane.
Kaelen entered the stall, running a gentle hand down the mare’s neck. “Her name is Shivanar. ‘White Storm,’ in our tongue.”
She barely heard him. Drawn in, she stepped forward, reaching out with slow, measured movement. Shivanar remained perfectly still as her fingers slid through the silken strands.
“She’s beautiful.”
“She’s yours,” Alarik said.
Her head snapped up. “Mine?”
Kaelen’s smile softened. “Ember will return to the Xians, but Shivanar is yours forever. She’ll carry you through the desert winds and beyond—your companion alongside us, as we continue our adventures. Together.”
Exhaling, she pressed her forehead gently against Shivanar’s.
“Thank you,” she murmured, emotion thick in her throat. “Both of you.”
Alarik unlatched the stall. “Shall we take her out for a ride?”
“I’d love that.”
Kaelen chuckled, squeezing her arm. “But first, something warmer. The desert has a sharp bite at night.”
She stroked Shivanar’s mane one last time before returning to her room where she quickly changed into fitted satin pants and a long dark rose tunic with slits on either side for ease of movement. A full-length cloak completed her ensemble.
Before leaving, she sifted through her satchel—graincakes, waterskin,and other odd bits—until her fingers found the three matching bracelets she’d made during her days in Zohara. She slipped them into her pocket, warmth unfurling in her chest.
By the time she returned to the stables, the horses were ready. Stepping onto the stool beside Shivanar’s saddle, she glanced at the princes.
“Mind if we make a stop on the way?” she asked, adjusting her cloak as she settled into the saddle.
Kaelen arched a brow. “Somewhere specific?”
Reiya’s fingers brushed the bracelets in her pocket, a quiet smile forming.
“You’ll see.”
The Temple of Luneth stood at the edge of the oasis, its carved sandstone walls bathed in the warm glow of oil lamps. Their flickering flames cast shifting shadows across the water, the air perfumed with moonflowers and desert jasmine, laced with the faint smokiness of incense curling from bronze censers.
