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I push down the feeling, removing my hand from his, and call out to Khijhana. She takes a moment to decide if she’ll join us or not before reluctantly climbing aboard the cargo hold of the sled. She doesn’t look pleased, but I get the feeling she has no intention of leaving me with these wolves on my own.
Once she’s situated, Einar settles in behind me. The heat he seems to carry around with him spreads from every point of contact. I realize this is the closest I’ve been to him since the day he stopped my fall on the stairs, and it’s strange how I am so unaccustomed to his closeness. Stranger still how tempting it is to relax back into him, to steal some of his warmth and laughter for my own.
His breath is hot when he leans down to talk into my ear.
“Lean into the curves.”
I give a sharp nod, and he calls out an order. The hounds take off, jarring the sled with a motion that sends me hurtling backward into Einar, who doesn’t so much as falter. They move as one, their long legs crossing the snow-covered hills in quick, graceful strides.
I glance back at the castle as we leave the grounds. The stained-glass window is once again what stands out the most, but this time I notice the small difference in the shape of the petals on the mosaic. They are not rounded or soft like a normal rose. These have sharper edges with a subtle hint of silver in the middle.
Maybe the designer took some artistic license, or maybe it represents something so much more than a simple rose. It hardly matters today.
We must come upon a curve, because I feel my balance slipping and hear Einar’s chuckle as I quickly turn back around.
I lean into the rest of the bend and focus on the journey ahead of us. The wind whips around us, but I barely feel it. I’m firmly caught up in our smooth glide across the terrain, nothing like the bumpy, nauseating carriage ride from my arrival. When I close my eyes, it’s easy to imagine that we’re flying through the air.
It’s easy to imagine that I’m finally free.
Chapter Twenty-Three
As we near the festival, he whistles for the wolves to slow. His body, so carefree only minutes ago, is now thrumming with tension. It takes me a moment to figure out why.
Heads turn in our direction, starting with a handful of people, then spreading until the entire crowd is focused solely on us. It’s surprising to see so many faces after so long in the castle, but hadn’t the people of Colby been maskless as well?
They continue to stare, and I wonder if it’s the wolves, but the way they look at Einar... It’s more than that. Crown or not, he is every inch their king.
The sudden, piercing blare of a horn sounds, and the people bow in unison.
It’s a curious sight, dozens of villagers with pale-white or deepest-brown skin, men and women alike taking a knee. I can’t see Einar’s expression, but I feel his breath whoosh out of him in relief. Had he doubted his people’s response to him?
Still, his hand tightens around the steering bar.
The people rise with varying degrees of speed, their expressions ranging from excitement to disbelief and even confusion. More than one eyes us with suspicion, or even anger. The former wave, while the latter stand stoically by.
I do my part and wave back, beaming and leaning into Einar in a show of intimacy. He squeezes my hand in thanks before stepping off the sled. I turn to face him, and several of the people move to approach us.
“Where are your guards?” I ask in a low tone, always hyper-prepared for a situation getting out of hand.
“They’re already here.” He pauses, arching an eyebrow. “Why? Are you worried about me?”
“Worried about myself, you mean.” My response is dry, but he smiles.
I don’t mention that it is completely unheard of everywhere else for a king to ride into a crowd without the safety of his guard.
“My people are loyal,” he answers in a more serious tone. “Even if they’re angry, they respect their leader,” he adds confidently. “Besides, the axe I carry isn’t just for show.”
Then, he takes a deep breath, and I realize that, for all of his bravado, he is still nervous. Maybe it’s not for his safety, exactly, but the anxiety is there.
Einar plays his part better than I do, gallantly holding out a hand to help me off of the sled, then keeping his arm firmly around me even once I’m safely on the ground.
The crowd edges in around us, and I have to focus to keep my breathing steady in a sea of humans who tower over me.
Congratulations are offered. Questions of the castle's welfare are asked, and evaded smoothly for the most part, I note.
Some people make passive comments about not having seen him in years, their suspicions and even judgment clear in their tone, and Einar is nothing but diplomatic about it all.
When there is finally space to breathe and the crowd dissipates a bit, I move back toward Khijhana, who has successfully stayed away from the mob, but has been unsuccessful in her attempts to extricate herself from the sled.
