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“Huh? Oh, sorry. I guess I’m a little anxious to see Ezra.” Not a lie. I am anxious. I want Aisha’s remedies to work, but I also want mine to heal him. I don’t want to rely on the Crown to keep him healthy. I want to get him home and then…
Well, then, I don’t know what I want. Realistically, I should stay in Divale. Ezra will need my help, and only the stars know when Sutherland will leave the king’s court. He seems too comfortable with his current position.
“Aisha’s done good work,” Bash says, confidently. “We don’t have to sedate him anymore.”
“Really?” I ask, hopeful. Maybe this afternoon will go smoother than I thought. If he’s calm, I can load him onto my horse and begin the journey back to Irragin . Ezra will be safe at home, and Riot… I chew the inside of my cheek, not wanting to figure out that part of my life just yet. “Tell her thank you for me.”
“You could tell her yourself, you know. I’ve arranged shelter for you in Tarrish if you want it. Ezra will be safe there, able to continue his treatments, and you’d be close enough to stay in the Culling…if you wish.”
“Bash…” I sigh, my stomach falling to my feet. I can’t shake the feeling that he’s going to be heartbroken when I don’t return.
“It’s just another option.” He reaches for my hand and brings my knuckles to his lips. “Can you blame me for not wanting to let someone as unique as yourself go?”
Footsteps carry from within the hall. I pull my hand free and clasp it in my lap. Riot stops at the edge of the hallway. His eyes bounce fromBash to me. A curious, pin-prick sensation raises my hackles when he asks, “Are we ready?”
“Just about,” Bash says. He leans down, capturing my neck in his hands, and kisses me. Unlike the one we shared last night, where the love spell had me desperate for more, Bash’s mouth tastes like ash on my tongue. I pull back, and he grins but I can see the worry in his eyes. “Don’t fly too far, little bird. Losing you would be a great tragedy for our kingdom.”
I force a smile, trying to mask the complexities of the moment, and softly utter, “Bye,” and then scurry to the hallway.
Riot's expression steels as I walk beside him. His movements are rigid, but I try not to dwell on it. Our moments are stolen. Maybe returning to the broody soldier I first met is how he plans to keep our secret from Bash.
"Our horses are out front," he announces when we near the foyer.
"Did you find what I asked for?"
Riot nods, not even looking at me. We descend the front steps of the castle, an awkward tension building. Maybe I’m looking too deeply into how he’s acting. I’ve never dealt with these kinds of feelings before. Does liking someone make you insecure and question everything? If so, I’m not sure I want these feelings. Life was easier when he hated me and my only focus was finding Ezra.
A light dusting of snow falls onto the already frozen ground. “It’s cold. I brought you a coat.” Riot mounts his horse without so much as glancing at me.
I grab the jacket off my saddle and slip my arms into the sleeves. I sniff the material and Riot’s scent wraps around me like a blanket. I hug it close, letting it hug me since he can’t. “This is your coat.”
“Don’t make a big deal of it. Sebastian would be unhappy if you were to freeze on our ride.” Riot kicks his horse and trots down the driveway.
I stick my foot in the stirrup and lift myself onto my horse. I tap her sides, bringing us to a steady gallop until I’m next to Riot. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he says roughly. “We have a long ride and it’s cold as hell out here. Let’s just get you to the brig so I can take my life back.”
The sun hangs high in the sky, casting long shadows as we approach the gray building at the far end of the Crown's property. It stands just inside the barrier, a stoic sentinel less than a dozen yards from the forbidden forest's edge. Riot was quiet and brooding the whole journey, making the ride awkward and uncomfortable. My webs hum so violently with his emotions, they almost shake from the intensity of his impatience and frustration.
Riot dismounts his horse and walks the colt to a trough, where he ties him off. I attempt to do the same but my leg tangles in the layers of my skirt. I lose my balance, slide off the horse’s side, and land in the snow on my back. It knocks the wind out of me and, for one painful minute, I struggle to breathe.
Riot hurries to my side and reaches for me. I let him help me up but as soon as I’m on my feet, the concern I saw is wiped from his face, the mask of indifference back in place. Anger simmers inside me and when he pulls my go-bag—the one I didn’t even tell him about, yet somehow he found—from within the horse's pack, I can’t keep my thoughts to myself any longer. I grab him by the arm and ask, “What is going on?”
“We are rescuing your friend, remember?” he says dismissively as he sheaths his sword and a dagger at his hip, then checks the throwing knives strapped to his chest. Each blade is snugly nestled in its sheath, ready for use at a moment's notice. The handles are wrapped in worn leather, a stark contrast to the gleaming steel, and I can't help but marvel at the precision with which they are arranged.
I haven’t seen Riot in full uniform before. Bits and pieces here and there, sure. But there’s something about sharp objects and the gleam in his eye as he readies himself that takes my breath away. I find myself captivated by the intricacies, realizing that his uniform is not just a mandated set of clothing but a reflection of the battles he’s fought and the scars he’s earned in the name of the Crown.
He levels a cutting stare at me and I swallow hard. The man I held in my arms this morning and the one standing before me are not the same. I can overlook the icy touch of his words in front of Bash and the court but there’s no reason for Riot to be so withdrawn now, when it’s just the two of us. “I’m not talking about what we’re doing right now. I’m talking about with us. Why are you acting like a jerk?”
“I don’t know, Khiara.” He huffs an impatient breath and tucks his thumbs in the straps on his chest. “You say you can read my emotions. You tell me.”
“You’re pissed.”
“You’re damn right I am!” he growls, and then his gaze drops to my thigh, where snow lingers on the coat.
I brush the coldness away and it melts under my touch. My magic simmers in my veins, reacting to my emotions, which are almost as vibrant as Riot’s. I take a deep breath and try to regain control, but fear twists with anxiety as I try to understand what I did wrong this morning. “I don’t get it. What did I do?”
“That’s just it, princess, you didn’t do anything.” He turns to the horse and rummages through its pack again muttering, “I have no reason to be mad at you.”
