Page 13 of Crown of the Dunes

I creeped through the long shadows, thankful that I was now able to slip out of my room at an hour when I could make my way to the stables unnoticed. When I was in the infirmary, the healers had me under close enough observation that unapproved outings were quickly forestalled. Now I had the luxury of my own rooms, letting me come and go relatively unimpeded, although they still urged me to stay in the palace.

I eased open the door to the stall where the dappled mare, Cail, I had been riding was housed, finding her dozing happily with her nose tucked over folded forelegs.

I hummed gently, not wanting to rouse the rest of the stable as I woke my mount. Her ears flicked forward, and she blew out a breath through her nose. Cail took her time standing up as I entered her stall, clearly not sharing my enthusiasm for getting outside, where I might ride faster than I could under Aderyn’s watchful eye—where the hot wind could scour my face, uninhibited by the high walls of the city.

Despite the mare’s reticence, I patted her nose and murmured encouraging nonsense to her. She had stood patiently as I attempted to mount her inelegantly time after time as my limbs regained their strength after weeks in bed. She may not be Daiti, but Cail had a certain gentleness to her that endeared her to me. I would trust her to teach a child how to ride.

I ushered her out of the stall. We made it to the wide door, dawn light streaming in, and my heart lifted, thinking we had made it out without notice, only for a familiar silhouette to appear in the doorway, hands on his hips, one eyebrow crooked at me in amusement. My heart stuttered as I recognized the expression as one Erix would wear.

“You might think I’m old, but I’m still sharp enough to notice everything that goes on in my own stables,” Kaius grumbled, the sparkle in his eye undercutting the grumpiness of his tone.

I sighed, resting a hand on the mare’s neck as she bumped her head into my flank, as if asking why we had stopped when I had gone to such trouble to get her out of her stall at an early hour.

“I just wanted to get out of the shadow of the palace,” I explained, an edge of pleading creeping into my voice.

Kaius tilted his head sympathetically. “The city is not as peaceful as it once was. I don’t want to be the one to explain to my wife how you were able to sneak out unsupervised if something were to happen.” He raised his brows in a way that clearly indicated he knew exactly what it was like to be on the receiving end of the queen’s ire.

I grimaced, sure her icy stare would be unbearable when she was displeased.

“You could take Aderyn with you?” he offered. “I just don’t think you should go riding alone these days.”

I opened my mouth, but my voice stuck. A ride with Aderyn sounded nice—reminiscent of the days when we were training together, back when the threats to Kelvadan were present but somehow more abstract. She was busy holding this city together now, and I couldn’t bring myself to take up even more of her time.

Before I could say as much though, a voice came from behind Kaius.

“She won’t be riding alone.”

Kaius turned, and I blinked at the silhouette his action revealed, the windswept hair and crooked smile familiar.

“Calix,” I breathed.

I hadn’t seen the prince from Viltov since our chance meeting in the hallway, and a small part of me was disappointed when I returned from my daily wanderings without spotting him. His casual manner would have been a welcome change from the scrutiny of Kelvadan’s statesmen and bureaucrats. Besides, I didn’t trust General Warrick from Doran, despite his claims that Hadeon had been operating outside his orders. Prince Calix’s presence gave me some reassurance that he wouldn’t let Doran get the upper hand, as that would spell disaster for Viltov as well.

“Prince Calix,” Kaius greeted, running a hand over his salt and pepper beard. “I didn’t think you rode.”

“And I thought I told you not to call me prince.” Calix folded his arms. His tanned forearms were veiny where they emerged from the rolled-up sleeves of his billowy white shirt. “But Keera here promised to teach me, and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to be so close to the famed horses of Kelvadan.”

Kaius glanced over at me, one of his brows raised in question; my skin prickled at the thought he was asking me more than if Calix’s statement was true but couldn’t entirely make out what he was suggesting.

“I did say I would teach him, although I’m not sure how helpful I’ll be,” I admitted. I didn’t remember ever being taught to ride as a child, the feeling of being on horseback innate from my earliest memories. But I supposed it was something one learned like anything else.

Kaius hesitated.

“At least you won’t have to worry about Keera pushing too far or too fast with me slowing her down.” Calix smiled ruefully, revealing a chipped front tooth, and he hooked his thumbs in his belt—a worn leather strap instead of the customary sashes worn by most in the Ballan Desert.

“I suppose I’ll have to find you a horse,” Kaius grumbled before ambling toward the back of the stable. He shot me a crooked wink as he passed, and I tilted my head in curiosity but received no further explanation.

As the horse master disappeared around a corner into a stall, I took a few steps closer to Calix, meeting him in the open doorway. A light morning breeze rustled his hair as he leaned on the doorframe.

The barest hint of the night’s chill lingering on the air cooled my skin as I looked up at him. I hadn’t realized how tall he was before. Nearly as tall as Erix.

A dull pang shot through the tether at the base of my spine, but it went dead as quickly as it had come. I dug my hand into my mare’s mane, forcing myself to focus on the silky hairs between my fingers and Calix’s face in front of me. I ached to hold on to the bond—to try and sustain that connection and throw myself down it to Erix—but I resisted. He was not here, and I had to focus on the city and the people in front of me if I was going to keep the feelings of loneliness and betrayal from shredding me apart.

“Thank you for volunteering to go with me,” I said to Calix.

“I’m sorry if it means I’m intruding on your solitude.” His tone was sincere. “But I figured you would prefer the chance to get out of the palace, even if you have to lug my sorry ass along.”

His turn of phrase made me snort—certainly not the type of language I would have imagined from a prince. It softened me to him. He was easier to talk to then most of the diplomats I encountered in the palace—with their stiff countenances, looking down their noses at the dirt perpetually crusted beneath my fingers and the sweat crusting my hair to my forehead.