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He’d promised.
Malyr smacked his lips. “Sebian flew north a good while ago, to where some of my scouts spotted Prince Domren’s banners. It appears as though the Dranadian prince is in search of a new wife and alliance, and Sebian is eager to find his heart with an arrow.”
“Oh.” That was all I managed to say as disappointment and understanding quarreled at my core. I’d wanted to see the tumbling movements of young ravens so badly, but… “Well, it’s understandable that this has precedence, given the loss Prince Domren had caused him. I cannot blame him for wanting revenge.”
“No?” Malyr took me in, letting his eyes take an unabashed stroll over my form. “Not even if it comes in the lovely shape of Domren’s betrothed writhing beneath him, moaning his name?”
That ache in my stomach turned into a hard ball of pressure. “What do you mean?”
“Why do you think he was so eager to pursue you at first? Taking care of your wound? Offering refuge during a storm? Waiting for you to run into his open arms each time you fled from mine? Out of selflessness? Love at first sight?” His focus was on adjusting the girth where my vision blurred around the edges, because I knew full well that Sebian’s reason had been none of those. “The time a man has to wait before he can kill his enemy is well spent between the legs of his enemy’s betrothed, don’t you agree?” His eyes found mine once more, one cheek bunching up at his lopsided smirk. “Or his daughter.”
A spell of nausea flitted through my stomach, here one second and rationalized away the next. That might have been in the beginning, but things were different between Sebian and me now.
Weren’t they?
“Clearly, his motivations have changed.” I lifted my chin, feigning aloofness, but it didn’t get rid of that bitter taste the nausea had left in the back of my throat. “I am no longer Domren’s betrothed.”
“No, indeed not. You are mine now.” Malyr extended his arm in a graceful gesture, taking my hand into his. “May I?”
“May you… what?”
“Take you to the cliffs instead,” he said and slowly guided me closer to him. “A poor consolation, I know, for I cannot seem to compete with Sebian’s…charm. I tried it once; you ran away.”
Because I struggled to trust his charm, fearing a vile, ulterior motive lurking beneath. “Not for lack of skill, but rather… questionable motivations.”
“I always thought myself rather honest about my motivations. But be that as it may… salt in the air, children playing, ravenssoaringthrough the sky,” Malyr dragged that last word out, obviously taunting me with all those things I’d been looking forward to. And it was working, given how that excited energy returned to my fingers, buzzing beneath my nails. “Allow me to take you. It has been much too long since I last jumped off a cliff.”
“The idea of watching you throw yourself down is tempting…”
“Yes, I hoped that the fantasy of my untimely death might get you to agree.” He sighed exaggeratedly, which lent the sound some humor, then gave me a wink. “Does it? Or has my hope been misplaced?”
My lips twitched at his unexpected playfulness, that wink I didn’t know his facial muscles could produce. And truly, what would be the harm? I was here; I was dressed. Why would I deny myself such an adventure just because Sebian chased after revenge?
Malyr leaned into me, whispering by my ear, “I assure you, little dove, I won’t be on my best behavior.”
My blood thickened at the way his whisper tugged on fine wisps of hair. He might have caught me off-guard during thekjaer, confusing me from head and heart, but I was prepared now. If I kept my wits about me, then I had nothing to fear.
No treacherous flutters.
No dangerous longing.
No ridiculous hope.
I gave a nod. “Very well.”
Malyr let his hands frame my waist. “I take it you were only instructed in side-saddle?”
“I was never formally instructed at all.”
“You are not fond of horses?”
“Oh, I’m very fond of them; I watched riders from the walls often, pretending I was cantering as I ran along the bailey.” When he lifted me toward his steed’s back, I clawed my fingers around the pommel of the saddle. “I snuck off to the pastures many times to climb onto the horses’ backs while they grazed, kicking their sides until they fell into a canter or bucked me off, whichever came first.”
When Malyr plopped me into the saddle and the ground seemed to fall away beneath me, I pressed my calves tightly against the horse’s rump. The stupid thing started dancing around nervously, making me sway and slip.
“It’s moving,” I said, clasping the saddle tighter. “Why is it moving?”
“Because you’re telling him to. Stop pinching his sides.” Malyr grabbed some leather strap on the saddle and jumped up, mounting effortlessly behind me. “The more you tense, the more nervous Liual will get.” His gloved fingers stroked down along mine, up, then down again, until they slowly lured my hands off the pommel. “Let them hang by your sides, or you’ll keep throwing yourself out of balance. Olivar?”
