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An apology lay on the surface of his emerald eyes. His shadows had reacted to Ryyen’s ominous voice without his knowledge; they saw the spy master as a threat.

Luckily, Areanel could read him well. Diverting the attention away, she urged her friend to continue. ‘Ryyen.’

But Ryyen had fallen silent. Deathly still. Shit. Had he discouraged them?

A flicker of movement, and Percival was at Ryyen’s side, taking the lead. ‘We will go the long way around to avoid anyone seeing us.’ A ripple of something unnamed stretched between the two, and Rymedur noted how Percival’s fingers brushed against Ryyen’s gloved hand. Not quite touching, yet not too far from reach, should either of them need it.

How odd. Rymedur had never seen Percival willingly choose to be close to anyone. Ever.

‘If we set off now,’ the prince continued, ‘we will reach Cal Cathlar before Nym and Elmrynn do, giving us plenty of time to complete reconnaissance and prepare for our missions. There will be an escort for each dignitary meeting within the city to discuss the amendments to the treaty. The escorts will be led to the main governing building as soon as they arrive. A few guards and servants will likely be taken straight to their accommodations whilst the dignitaries are being greeted. One of Ryyen’s spies will accompany the princes; they will provide any information we need and leave a way to obtain it. We will be able to secure the area, gain access to the facility, and ensure that any rebel activity is monitored. This mission is split into two, so we will have to prioritise finding the chieftain, getting the information we need and then disposing of any evidence.’

Rymedur listened intently. Once the plan was explained, everyone dispersed.

Vasilio and Brutus mounted their horse, a beautiful mare with a smooth silk coat. Rymedur followed, approaching a large black stallion. Areanel was already at its side.

The horse’s coat was as dark as his shadows, and it snickered at Areanel as she neared. Backing away at the sudden sound, her back slammed into his chest, and her eyes bulged out of her head. Rymedur realised, in all the time he had known Areanel, he had never once seen her on horseback. ‘What’s wrong, little demon? Afraid of a horse?’ His whisper sent the stray strands of hair by her ear flying, and purposely he let his lips graze the point of her ear, sending a deep rose-tinted flush across his skin.

‘No.’ She turned her face away. Was that embarrassment he spied? ‘I have only ever ridden my bonded. I cannot ride.’ The way she spoke through her teeth and the sight of red seeping into her face confirmed his suspicions. Even after all these years together, he was still learning new things about her—apparently, his wife kept her secrets close to her chest, sometimes even from him.

Blinking the shock from his face, Rymedur chose to lighten the mood. ‘What do you mean you cannot ride?’ he spoke loud enough for their companions to hear. ‘You ride me perfectly well.’

When her brilliant blue eyes found his, shooting him a deadly look at the crude comment, he could not help but throw her a suggestive wink. She must have noticed the mischievous smirk adorning his lips, because not a second later, she sent the point of her elbow jabbing harshly into his ribs. The act had him doubling over, simultaneously coughing and laughing uncontrollably.

A guffaw sounded behind him. ‘Oh, I like him!’ Vasilio laughed from where he sat atop his horse, his hazel gaze darting between Areanel’s reddened face and Rymedur’s contagious laughter.

Managing to gather himself enough to calm down, Rymedur moved to help Areanel as she placed a foot in the stirrup. The horse bucked, forcing her to let go and stumble back. Stubborn woman!

Rymedur caught her by the waist. ‘Easy there.’ He patted the side of the horse’s flank and spoke in a low tone. ‘What’s his name?’ He directed the question to Ryyen without looking, keeping the horse’s focus.

The silence stretched, and it was as though Ryyen wouldn’t reply, but then, in a soft whisper, they said, ‘Areion.’

Rymedur nodded once. ‘A suitable name,’ his tone was hushed as he spoke to the stallion. Slowly moving to stand before Areion, he stretched a hand towards his muzzle. Inching closer, he spoke. ‘A name is important. It can say a great deal about you. But many names have many meanings. Your name, Areion—where I come from—means extremely swift. But here, in Andrea, it means divinely bred beast.’ It was working. The soothing tone of his voice calmed the horse, allowing him to gently stroke his muzzle. ‘Well, Areion. What is it to be? Are you swift, or are you a beast?’

Areion seemed to listen. Lowering his head, Rymedur placed his forehead against the horse’s as he continued in that low tone. ‘Shall we find out?’

Areanel approached, and the horse shook its head once as she placed a foot in the stirrup, but with a soft, steady stroke from Rymedur, he stayed put. Moving to his side, Rymedur held onto her waist and lifted her into the saddle before following her onto the creature’s back. Once seated, Rymedur took the reins and urged Areion into a slow trot, following the others deeper into the forest.

With one hand securely around her waist, Rymedur prised Areanel’s hands off the pommel, interlocking their fingers. Her grip was hard. Unrelenting. But he didn’t mind. ‘Surely this is no different from riding Winter, little demon?’ Rymedur’s words were quiet so that Vasilio and Brutus, who rode close by, could not hear them.

Raven-black hair tickled his chin as she shook her head; her gaze refused to leave the spot between Areion’s ears, and Rymedur could practically taste her anxiety. ‘I don’t have to think when I am with them. They know my thoughts—know where to go without much input from me.’ Areanel’s fingers clenched his as they rode toward an incline in the forest floor. Her back pressed flush to his front.

Shifting his weight, Rymedur pressed his thighs against hers to keep her in her seat. ‘But you ride bareback with them. You don’t even need a saddle?’ It was a distraction. The vice-like grip around his fingers slowly loosened.

Chest rising and falling in measured breaths, Rymedur noted how Areanel’s anxiety slowly ebbed. It was working. ‘They feel different. I can’t explain it. It feels natural. Like breathing, it’s an instinct. Something I just know how to do. Like you are with your shadows.’

A gust of wind blew past them, and Rymedur reached up, hands still entwined, to move a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

‘And anyway,’ she continued, ‘my father had never seen the relevance in my learning how to ride horseback. When my brothers were learning, I asked why, and he simply said they didn’t have bonded wolves to ride into battle. I did.’ Howls echoed in the distance. Was that her bonded? Could they tell when Areanel spoke about them? Was it like the old wives’ tale humans would tell—that your ears burned if someone spoke about you?

‘I will miss them dearly,’ Areanel’s tone was solemn, and Rymedur suddenly regretted asking. His heart ached when she was sad—but it had been the right thing to do. Her wolves were too noticeable to join them. And they needed someone they trusted to stay with the children… just in case. Rymedur didn’t want to think the worst of Aerileas, but he didn’t trust him or his court a single bit. The wolves staying close to the children put his mind at ease; they would do anything to keep them safe. They treated the children as their own.

Rymedur had been there when Areanel had spoken to her bonded, asked them to stay. They were stubborn, wild beasts—ones that could not be tamed—and Rymedur knew Areanel would not want to tame them. They did as they pleased, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. He had seen how Winter had agreed, the bow of her head and the way she ushered her brothers into submission. She would protect Areanel’s children with her life. That thought eased something inside of him. Settled him.

Encircling his arms around Areanel, Rymedur leaned his tired head on her shoulder—a comforting gesture, but his brow pinched.

Areanel’s skin was warm—too warm. Perhaps the heavy cloak was too thick. Loosening the ties from around her neck, his hand brushed the pendant that hung there as he pulled the cloak open, allowing more air to kiss her skin.

Changing the subject, Rymedur glanced around and asked, ‘Why is it that I have only ever met them in passing? Your cadre, I mean. They seem important to you, but they are rarely at the palace.’