Page 53 of How to Claim A Shadow King

Malakai chuckles, the sound much more delicious than it should be.

It doesn’t take long at all for us to mount up, worried maybe I wouldn’t be a good enough rider and embarrass myself.

The horse beneath me instantly settles, its ears pricking forward as if he’s decided I’m in charge and he’s ready to go.

I blow out a breath of relief.

As for the Shadow King, Malakai mounts his horse in a single, fluid movement. He looks magnificent, his braided dark hair catching the weak autumn light, his long legs guiding the powerful beast beneath him with nothing more than a subtle shift of his weight. Shadows lick up the stallion’s hooves, leaving faint, smoky trails on the cobblestones.

“You are an absolute show-off,” I tell him as my horse prances under my feet. “Stop that, Pickles.”

“Pickles?” Malakai repeats, a dumbfounded expression wrinkling his forehead. “Did you name that beast… Pickles?”

“You told me to name him.” I give him my best duchess smile. “Yours is named…” I pause, wracking my brains for the most absurd name I can think of and land on— “Boots.”

“Absolutely not,” Malakai objects.

I pout, slightly put out that he won’t let me name his horse.

“If your horse is named after… a fermented cucumber, then my should have a name that matches. Boots and Pickles sound heinous together.”

“Fine. Then his name is…” I raise my chin. “Gravy Boat.” I pronounce it with the most put-upon, royal air I can manage.

“That is also terrible, but Gravy Boat and Pickles it is.” Malakai looks slightly devastated, but as I break into laughter, he gives me a grin that tells me he thinks it’s funny too.

“I don’t think we should tell the minotaur brothers the names we picked for them.”

“Let me guess, they were named something like Ebony and Storm or Midnight.”

“Thunder and Lightning,” Malakai admits.

“I think Pickles and Gravy Boat are much better names.”

“Yes, of course. Who wants to ride something named Lightning when they could ride… Gravy Boat?”

I snort, and Pickles dances to the left, ears flicking back and forth. “Do you know what I decided on for the other horse? What name, I mean?”

Malakai’s forehead creases, and he looks momentarily aggrieved, which makes me want to laugh even harder. “Pray tell.”

“Sandwich.”

“We shall rename the stable larder, I think.”

That earns a real laugh, and I grin at him as he shakes his head in faux despair.

"You hold the reins like you know what you’re doing," Malakai observes, his dark gaze fixed on my hands. "And I thought you told me your mother disapproved of you riding, Aveline."

"Maybe sometimes it’s worth doing what others disapprove of.” I toss my hair, nudging Pickles forward. He responds instantly, walking with a proud, high-stepping gait that makes me laugh out loud with sheer delight. The freedom of riding astride, stripped of the heavy court gowns and suffocating expectations of my old life, is incredible.

We ride out through the ruined stone gates of Shadow Keep, leaving the safety of the courtyard behind.

The deeper we go into the Elder Forest, the more the atmosphere changes. The cheerful, golden sunshine of the town begins to give way to a thick, emerald canopy. The air grows heavier, thick with the scent of damp moss, ancient earth, and a sharp, metallic tang that makes the hairs on my arms stand up.

“There’s the perimeter," Malakai points with his chin. "The wards that separate the Fae realms from the Wild Oak Woods. And from... other things."

As if on cue, the forest ahead seems to shimmer. A faint, translucent ripple in the air stretches between the trees.

It doesn't look secure. The barrier is fluctuating, pulsing with a weak, sickly violet light that fractures like cracked ice.