Page 90 of Ravenrose

A hand settles on my thigh, steadying me against the saddle. Not forcing. Just... holding me there.

“Princess.”

His voice cuts cleanly through the noise in my head.

“Look at me.”

My eyes refuse. Then, slowly... they find him.

Gray. Just gray eyes watching me with an intensity I haven’t seen before.

“Are you with me?”

With a death grip on the saddle and my mouth tight, I nod.

Ayer removes his hand, only to swing up behind me in one smooth motion.

With him right there, at my back, I become acutely aware of the significant tear in my dress, and how my right leg is nearly fully exposed. I wish I could at least attempt to readjust my skirts and cover my bare skin, but my hands are still bound, and I don’t dare release the death grip I have on the saddle to even make an attempt.

I try to shift forward, inching away from him, but there’s only so much space in the saddle.

“Relax.”

Gods. He’s right there. Ayer’s dark, velvety voice in my ear sets off an unfamiliar twisting of nerves deep in my abdomen.

Dash prances beneath us, tossing his head, and I suck in a breath. Before I can panic, his arm snakes around my waist, firm and unyielding, drawing me securely against him. His grip isn’t gentle, but it’s steady—a solid band of strength that leaves no room for me to slip.

Ayer gives the stallion his head, and we set off after the others at far too brisk a pace for comfort. Every muscle in my body is stiff with tension.

Dash’s gait is irregular, and he dances beneath us, eager to catch up with the others, wanting to go faster while Ayer holds him back. I cling tighter to the saddle, my knuckles whitening. Terror holds me in a vise—the fear so overwhelming there’s no room for any trace of excitement I might have had.

I wanted this once. Desperately. I begged for riding lessons, spent nearly every day in the stables during the summers when I had more free time; watching the horses, feeding them treats, but despite my pleading, my father would not have it.

A princess has no need to ride astride, he’d said. It would be… improper.

“Twelve moons, Princess! Take a breath; you’re acting like you’ve never ridden a horse before.” I can hear the eye roll in Ayer’s words with no need to see it.

My cheeks burn with embarrassment. He’s right: I’ve never ridden a horse before.

And certainly not like this.

It’s not enough that I don’t feel well, or that his insane horse is dancing all over the road, fighting for control of his head. But being tucked in, so close to Ayer… It only serves to fuel my anxiety past its breaking point.

His breath is on my neck, the weight of his body shifting against mine with Dash’s every movement.

My back is ramrod straight, and I’m trying my best to keep the distance between us, but the slick leather of the saddle betrays me, and I slide back—more than once. Each time, scrambling awkwardly forward again.

The next time I scramble away from him, I swear to the gods I hear him snicker.

Asshole.

But the more tense I get, the more Dash seems to act up. My heart leaps into my throat when the stallion presses his ears back against his skull with an accompanying sharp toss of his head.

I swallow hard, squeezing my eyes and legs tight.

Dash bolts forward, and a scream tears from my throat as the burst of speed sends me flying back.

“Ayer—”