Fireblood

TEN

Sebastian guides me to the bank, settling us near the water. “I noticed you weren’t wearing my commitment gift today.”

My hand goes to my chest, my palm flat against my skin. Damn. I’d forgotten to pick it up off the floor this morning. Did Madity find it? Where is it now? Showing that kind of disrespect toward the prince surely won’t go unpunished. My hand shakes as I lower it to my lap.

I attempt to stutter out a response. Before any words pass my lips, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the silver locket, dangling it before me.

My breath halts in my chest.

“Your maid found it this morning. She said the clasp had broken and that it must have slipped off during the night.” His eyes search mine as his fingers work the clasp. “I had it repaired.”

“Yes—thank you. I was going to have it fixed.” I plan to hug Madity the next time I see her.

He nods, but his eyes squint, conveying his disbelief. His lips tighten into a forced smile. “Zara, I know all this is not easy for you. Everything that has happened to you these past few days must be difficult. But, please allow me the chance to prove my affections for you are true.”

I swallow hard, and an aching lump catches in my throat. After everything he’s confessed, I can’t lead him to believe I’ll ever reciprocate his feelings. He’s battling internal demons over his rule of the kingdom. Even if one day my feeling could change, for now, I can’t add to that confusion. “Sebastian, I would like us to be friends.”

“Friends.” He spits the word as if it’s foul.

“Yes.” I force my shoulders back, gaining courage. “You don’t truly know me, and I don’t know you at all. Marriage arrangements may work this way for the era, but we don’t have to abide by them.” I suck in a breath. “We can be friends instead.”

His eyes travel over my features, and he bites down on his bottom lip. I become nervous that I’ve gone too far, until he says, “For now, Zara.”

My mouth parts. What was I expecting him to do? Call off the betrothal? Open the gate and allow me to walk out? He’s the prince and used to getting his way. I’m back to either convincing him that he doesn’t want to wed me or seeing my escape plan through.

“Come.” He jars me from my strained thoughts, handing me the necklace and helping me to my feet. “We have little time for your lesson if we want to make it back before your maid sends out a search party.” He laughs, and like that, his voice is frivolous and light. Though now, knowing all that I know, I can hear the hesitancy in it, too, the concern that I may never return his feelings.

I turn, my hand clutching the silver locket, my mouth opening to say what I must. “Sebastian.”

He stops but doesn’t face me. “You don’t have to say anything,” he says. “Just…just give us time. Before you decide to loathe me forever.”

I clamp my mouth shut. I don’t know how I was going to convince him that I can’t be here. That I don’t belong. That even though he believes he has these feelings for me, he can’t possibly.

I don’t know for sure if he’s his own man or the king’s son—and the answer to that determines everything.

So I let it stand. No more words between us. At the very least, I can let him salvage some dignity after baring his soul as he did. It can’t be easy for a man raised to be a king to admit the things he did. Not in this era, and especially not one brought up by King Hart.

After we’re on the other side of the wall, Sebastian unties Hawken and steps into the stirrup, then climbs atop. He lowers his hand to me and I take it, easily mounting the horse with his help this time.

He cocks his head to the side, saying over his shoulder, “Lend me your arm.”

“Why?”

He releases a tense breath. “I see we’re back to questioning everything.” He shakes his head. “Just…here.” He reaches back and takes my arm, then pulls me to the side where he can grasp me fully around the waist.

“What are you—” My sentence is cut short as he hauls me to the front of the saddle, turning me to face the front. “Oh.”

“You can’t learn to ride from the back,” he says. “Now, take the reins.” He places them between my palms and I grip them, my hands clammy. “Hold on tightly. But not so tightly you can’t adjust them if you need to.”

I hastily nod my head, my spirits soaring. I’m learning to ride. “How do I know when to adjust them? And what does that mean?”

His arms reach around me and he rests his hands over mine. “Like this,” he says, positioning my fingers into the correct hold. “Now lightly press your heels into her side.” I do, and Hawken snorts and trots forward. “Let’s keep her at a steady pace.”

We alternate walking and trotting for about half a mile over the grassy plain just outside of the forest. I’m getting a feel for how the horse moves. Though we travel at a slow pace, I can feel the power in her stride. I’m tempted to give her a kick and gallop her—feel the wind sweep over my face and break away, farther from the court grounds. It’s electrifying.

“You ready to really ride?” Sebastian asks.

I am. My insides dance and quiver. I’m nervous, but I want the rush. “Yes.”

He laughs and takes my hands in his, then kicks his heels, leaning us forward. Hawken takes off and panic spurs my chest. Soon we’re moving so fast I don’t have time to think. The world comes at me in patches of green and blue as we bound across the plain. Sheer adrenaline pours through me, and I laugh out loud.

After we switch gaits, circling the plain a few more times, the sun begins to dip below the trees. Sebastian takes the reins and heads us back toward the castle. My elation ends, my stomach plummets. For a moment out here, with the wind in my face and open fields all around, I actually forgot where I was.

Now, I remember I have to go back.

As we ride up to the stable fence, Devlan opens the gate for us. A mixture of emotions passes through me, though I’m not sure I can pinpoint what they are. Sadness, regret for the loss of his parents. Admiration for his determination to become a knight, regardless of his treatment from Sebastian. Curiosity for who he really is, and why he came back here.

None of these are things I can ask him without revealing what Sebastian told me, and I feel that what is between them is private.

We sidle up next to the stable entrance and Devlan strides over to meet us. “The princess’ maid has been in an uproar that she’s been injured or lost.”

Sebastian laughs. “Well, the princess is back and in one piece. Her maid can relax.” I scoot forward so he has room to swing his leg over and dismount. He gives me a wink, then turns toward the glass door. My breath hitches as he inserts his key, and from my perch atop the horse, I see him enter his code: 2016.

The first year of the Final War.

Devlan extends his hand to me, his face drawn. “I had best deliver you to Maid Madity before she threatens to remove my limbs again.”

I accept his outstretched hand, attempting to rein in the smug smile that wants to overtake my face at having found out Sebastian’s code. I bounce off the horse, landing on my feet, which is quite different from the way Sebastian helped me down. As if Devlan’s trying to touch me as little as possible. Jumping off the horse isn’t as bad as I thought. I decide I can do it by myself from now on.

As he releases my hand, I wince. “Ow.”

“What?” Devlan says. “Are you hurt? What hap—” He stops short and eyes Sebastian.

I look between them, surprised at Devlan’s brash outburst. “Nay, I’m fine,” I say quickly, drawing their eyes to me. “My hands are just rubbed raw from the reins.” I press them together and they throb, hot and aching.

Sebastian takes my hands, turning them palm up. Bright red skin covers my palms and fingers. “Madity can fix a solution that will help.”

I nod, and Devlan takes one of my hands out of Sebastian’s grasp. He stares at the red flesh. “I’ve worked with horses a long time,” he says, not looking up. “I know something that will keep them from blistering.” He drops my hand as he looks at Sebastian. “With your permission, of course, Your Highness”

“Of course, Devlan,” Sebastian says. “See that Zara is taken care of.” He looks at me. “The lessons can wait until you’ve healed.”

My lips parts. “I’m fine. Honestly. I wish to continue my lessons.” My voice sounds more pleading than I’d like.

Sebastian grunts, a low rumble in his throat. “It could end up causing an open wound and becoming infected.” He eyes me. “We’ll wait till you’re better.”

“Come, princess,” Devlan says before I can argue further. “The prince is right.”

My shoulders slump, and even though I want to ensure that I’ll be training on the morrow, I follow behind Devlan as he walks away. I won’t win this right now.

Once we’re outside the fence, Devlan closes the gate and waits patiently for me to walk ahead of him. This time, I do so without debate. I don’t know why he’s chosen to be a knight, but my complaints about being treated like a princess now feel petty, at least compared to what I’m sure he’s dealt with over the years on his own, here at Court.

“Where am I going?” I ask as I wander toward the castle.

He walks up beside me. “The training grounds. There are salves and ointments the knights use during training.” He points behind the castle and off to the left. “Your hands will callous over in time.”

I huff. “But not overnight.”

His head darts in my direction. “Nay. Not overnight, princess.” His gaze bores into me, and I nearly stumble as I lock eyes with him.

Regaining my balance, I return to watching the ground. I can feel that either the ride or the dismount has worked my dagger around toward the back of my thigh. I’m through with my lessons for the day, though. It shouldn’t cause me any bother.

We don’t talk again until we reach the green tent. It sits at the far end of the grounds, past makeshift risers and a two-foot high, bricked-in showground. He holds back the flap for me and I walk inside. Large metal weapon cases decorate the sides of the tent, and tables topped with swords and armor clutter the open area. I’ve never seen so many weapons. Ever. The fact that they’re not permitted in Karm, at least not in the hands of regular citizens, and they’re so abundant here, causes me to shudder.

“It’s overwhelming,” Devlan says. “I know. When I first saw the armory, I couldn’t believe all the weapons were right out in the open.”

I glance around. “How is it possible?”

He walks toward one of the metal sword racks and unlatches the keychain from inside his vest, then unlocks the door. After pulling out one of the heavy-looking swords, he walks back over to me. “Here.” He holds the blade out, aimed toward the ground. “Run your finger over the edge.”

I mock-laugh. “I don’t think so.”

Devlan’s lips turn up on one side. Gently taking one of my injured hands, he looks into my eyes. “Trust me.” He runs my finger along the blade’s edge.

“No,” I snap, but soon realize I’m not cut. I choke out a strained laugh. “It’s dull.”

“We’re not to train with actual swords.” He walks back to the metal case. “And these are used in the tournaments. Except for the last tourneys, when the stakes are raised.”

He rummages through a cabinet and stalks back over with a glass jar full of some clear, wiggly liquid. Setting it down on a large wooden table, he motions me over with a cock of his head.

“I can take care of it,” I tell him, reaching for the salve.

“No.” He takes my hands in his, guiding me toward a bucket below the table. I lower into a hunch as he dunks our hands in freezing water. “You have to cleanse first. But never with soap.” He turns his head to look over at me. “Soap will dry it out and cause the skin to tear.”

I flinch and try to ignore the stinging pain in my hands. As Devlan watches my face closely, his dark hair falls over one eye. I’m tempted to push it aside. He lifts my hands out and towels them off. I turn my hands palm up, waiting for the salve. Devlan only stares at me.

“What?” I ask.

He pats the table. “Hop up, princess.” When I raise an eyebrow questioningly, he explains, “So I can see your hands. Your stature makes it difficult to inspect them clearly in the dim light.”

My face flushes. “Is my height really that bothersome?” I step to the table, press my hands to the wood to lift myself up, and immediately wince.

“You’re going to have to work around your height limitations, princess.” He grasps my waist and lifts me onto the table.

I try to avoid his eyes, but his face is right before mine. He places his palms on the table, on either side of my legs, tilts his head, and studies me.

I shrug. “How was I supposed to get up here?” I say. “Magically levitate?” My joke gets no reaction from him. Not so much as a muscle twitch. His eyes continue to study my face. His stare is cold and hard, off-putting.

Finally, his eyes move from me to the jar. He unlatches the top and scoops the salve into his hand. “You have to think about every angle, every position, every way something can be done before the time to do it arrives.” He unfolds my hands, lightly running his thumb over the inflamed skin, then applies the ointment. It’s cold and greasy, but it immediately soothes, dousing the burning sensation.

“Why are you telling me this?” I keep my eyes trained on our hands—focus on the feel of his rough palms working the salve into mine.

He releases a heavy breath. “Because, it’s the first thing you need to learn before anything else. Even before riding a horse.” He takes my other hand and begins to treat it. “Be aware of your surroundings. Know what is around you and how to use it and your body in every situation. Even something as simple as getting atop a table.”

“Sebastian didn’t mention that while training me to ride today.” Peeking at him through my lashes, I gauge his reaction to Sebastian’s name. “Wouldn’t that be something a prince would know?”

“Princess, if things were handed to you all your life, and you never doubted they would continue to be, would you question how to attain them?”

“Nay,” I answer simply. “I suppose not.”

He bends down, grabs something from under the table, and comes back up with gauze. He wraps my hands thickly, one at a time, binding them tightly. “You seem unable to keep your hands in good condition.”

I attempt to ball my fists, but can barely move my fingers. “How am I to eat, or do anything else for that matter?”

He packs away the supplies. “You can remove the gauze tomorrow morning. The swelling should be gone by then.”

I quirk an eyebrow at his strange word for the morrow, but tuck it away. Tomorrow. I like it. “Thank you.” I watch him saunter across the tent. “Devlan?”

“Yes, princess?”

“Will I be able to ride by the afternoon, then?”

His shoulders slump. “Not if you’d like to be able to use your hands at all this week.”

I bite down on my lip. I know I can’t continue to push, but I don’t have time to waste. Now that I have the code, I’m another step closer. “What if I only do as you said,” I say, tilting my head. “Learn how to use my body to mount a horse, rather than use my hands fully?”

He turns toward me, his brow serious and furrowed. “Your determination is impressive, but I recommend waiting until next week.”

I jump down from the table. “Fine. I’ll wait.” I head toward the front of the tent. “Thank you for tending to my hands…again.” I give him a weak smile, and push back the flap.

“Princess.”

I halt my retreat, but don’t turn to face him.

“You have every intention of riding tomorrow, don’t you?”

I nod, still not looking at him. “I do.”

He nears me and steps through the tent opening. Sweeping his hand, he ushers me to walk ahead of him. “Then I have every intention of being there to make sure you don’t kill yourself.”