Amarande and Luca whirled toward the sound.
A dozen or more riders barreled toward them in a cloud of bronze dust, making it appear as if their horses were riding a wave of earth. No sigil to this group, just a gait that made it very clear they weren’t friends.
The princess’s eyes narrowed. Someone in the caravan had indeed found the body and figured out who they were. The result wasn’t good.
“Hold on,” Amarande said as much to herself as to Luca, as she clipped Ferri sharply with her heels. The horse reared, her front two legs picking up off the ground, and let out a cry. And then they were rocketing down the steep edge of the fire pit, toward the flat moor of bones and ash at the bottom.
Amarande hoped the sudden change in direction would buy them enough time to climb back to the other side and gain the type of lead that such a large group couldn’t overcome.
They tore down the bank of the pit, the ashen earth coming along with it, crumbling under the collective weight of them. Which killed their speed. The horse stumbled, the soil disappearing the second her hooves made contact, her footing shot. She tripped over herself, front legs sliding out from under her and her momentum pulling her back end along anyway.
And suddenly the earth was rushing up toward them.
“Pull!” Luca yelled, grabbing the reins along with Amarande and yanking back with all his might.
Amarande yanked, too, both of them leaning so far back they nearly fell off the other way. The horse’s equilibrium changed, and she tapped the ground and bounced back up, rather than rolling onto her side and over her back—something that would have surely crushed her riders.
They came to a stop in a low heap, Ferri favoring the side that hit, her whole right flank caked in soot. Amarande kicked at her with a leg smarting from being dashed against the ground, the full weight of the horse and riders behind it for just an instant. Feeble as the command was with Amarande’s legs not completely in working order, the horse still got the message and tried to get going but stumbled and stamped.
“Come on, girl, come on,” Luca urged between coughs. The ash rose in plumes around them, making it as difficult to breathe as to see.
But the thunder of the riders eclipsing the rim of the fire pit was unmistakable. It was steady, but slower than what they’d tried with Ferri—their pursuers had learned from the princess’s mistakes.
“Come on, girl, just keep going,” the princess whispered, echoing Luca, eyes watering and words weak as a cough chased themout of her mouth. She pulled up her cowl, but it wasn’t much better. Luca had one, too, now, but it didn’t do him many favors. His coughs were deep enough and close enough to reverberate against her back.
The horse wouldn’t move.
And before the dust settled, they were surrounded. The shadows were there, between the ashen plumes, horses snorting heavily. As the fine russet cloud settled, there, in the middle of it all, was a familiar, smiling face. There, on a horse as white as snow, was Prince Renard. That grin widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Princess Amarande, my love, I’ve found you at last.”
CHAPTER
37
AMARANDEsat tall in her saddle—shoulders back and head held high—and looked the elder prince of Pyrenee right in the eye.
His love?His love?His key to the kingdom, more like it.And she would have none of it.
“I am no such thing.”
Renard didn’t blink. “My love,you are my fiancée, and you’ve been missing, stolen away by thisbrute,and thank the stars I’ve found you.”
Amarande laughed. “I am only your fiancée if you forged my signature. I went to collectmylove, whoyoustole away, and now you haven’t found me—you’ve cornered me. Every word you say is a lie.”
She hoped Renard would concede—that it was him indeed who paid the pirates to steal Luca—so that at least she’d have that answer. Instead, he said, “It’s all a matter of perception, Princess.”
“What do you want?” she spat.
“To take you home.”
“I’m headed there right now, and I know the way. Now if you’ll—”
“To Pyrenee.”
“Not in your company. Never.”
Renard smiled, blue eyes as cold as a Pyrenee winter. “You don’t have a choice,my love.The contract was approved by your council.”
