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I swiped at the blood with the back of my hand. “I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.” My voice was thick. I felt as if I might cry or throw up or both.
I didn’t want to do either of those things around this odious man, however, so I stood up straighter and walked towards the entrance to the alley.
From behind me, Draven let out a sardonic laugh. “And just where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“Back to the castle,” I said without pausing. I looked straight in front of me at the empty marketplace. At the fountain of Zorya. At the stars in the sky.
I tried not to think about Baudwin. About the children or wife or husband he might have had at home. About how they would never see him again. About how they would soon learn he died a traitor, attempting to harm the king’s sister.
I brushed at my eyes and quickened my pace.
From behind me came the clatter of hooves and the sound of a horse rearing. I turned around in alarm, just as a strong arm swooped down roughly and grabbed me around the waist.
Before I could fight or protest, I had been lifted off the ground and dumped unceremoniously in front of Draven on his saddle, my legs dangling sideways.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” I demanded furiously.
“I’m taking you back home, where you belong. Where you should have been all along. What kind of a princess walks alone at night without any guards?”
I seethed. “One who lives in a city that is ordinarily peaceful and content.”
I contemplated throwing myself off the horse, but knew it would be useless. Draven would just pick me up like a sack of grain and throw me back in the saddle again.
And worse, he’d probably enjoy doing it, too.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t despise him for it though.
We rode across the square at a trot.
“You saved my life, but at what price? You killed three men. Baudwin was guilty of no crime. He may have had a family. Children. Who will feed them now?”
“Not my problem,” Draven grunted. “He should have thought of that before he sold you out to his friends.”
He truly sounded unconcerned. Despicable.
The horse started up the hill to the castle gates and I found myself unexpectedly flattened against his chest. It was as hard and unyielding as the rest of him.
“You’re no better than a murderer,” I muttered rebelliously.
“That’s not how I see it,” Draven replied with infuriating calm. “The old hunter made a poor judgment call that nearly wound up with you dead. He didn’t care about you or he wouldn’t have led you into that alley in the first place.”
“Perhaps he was right not to care,” I said bluntly. “After all, people are starving.”
Draven snorted derisively. “So their lives are more important than yours? Or perhaps you have a death wish? Is that why you were in the forest that night? At least do not extend your recklessness to your younger brother. He deserves your protection.”
“How dare you tell me how to treat Kaye,” I exclaimed. “Of course, I don’t wish to die. But neither will I claim my life is worth more than the starving citizens of Camelot. Little wonder they wished me dead. Or to use me as a pawn.”
A pause.
Then, “No wonder you’ve been dedicated to the temple, with that attitude.”
I felt my blood start to boil. “What the fucking hell is that supposed to mean?”
Draven let out a low chuckle. I could feel the laugh as it rumbled through his chest. It was off-putting, being this close to him.
“Don’t you dare laugh at me.” I was struck with the very strong urge to punch him in the face as hard as I could. Or worse. I thought of the dagger at my belt and for a moment it was tempting.
“I mean that you seem perfectly suited to a life of pious martyrdom, Princess. You’ve made the perfect choice.”
