The South Wind studies me for a moment before saying, “You claimed you never wished to marry. Why now, after all this time?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Yet Notus does not retreat. Rather, he steps forward, pushing me further into the stall. The dry scent of the desert air clings to his robes.
“You conform to your father’s wishes. This isn’t what you wanted for yourself.”
He is right. I hate that he is right. “Time passes. People change. I’m not the naive girl I once was.” My teeth clench as I fight to contain all the emotion I’ve repressed over the years, the pieces I’ve buried longing to tear free. “Perhaps you did not know me as well as you thought you did.”
Brushing past him, I grab the saddle from where it had fallen and toss it onto Essam’s back.
“Perhaps,” he concedes, angling toward me. “But I still find it hard to believe that you would be so foolish as to place your trust in a man you have known for a handful of days.”
“Prince Balior is trustworthy.”
“You are certain of that?”
Something in the South Wind’s tone gives me pause. “If King Halim claims Prince Balior is trustworthy, then he is. I trust Father’s judgment.” I hesitate, then ask, “What business did he have at the labyrinth yesterday?”
Notus’ eyes narrow in suspicion. “How do you know the prince visited the labyrinth?”
“Thehowmatters not,” I clip out. “Though I noticed you’d deserted your post when I arrived at the courtyard.” I maneuver Essam against the wall, keeping him pinned while I attempt to secure the billet. The stallion, however, possesses a much wider girth than my mare. I struggle to slot the pin through the hole.
“Let me.”
The South Wind’s warm hand covers mine. His callused palm is rough against my skin. I should retreat, yet my traitorous body continues to respond to his proximity. Gods, what iswrongwith me?
I promptly withdraw, angling away so Notus will not notice my quickening breath. He finishes saddling Essam with ease. The brute does not even bite, as if calmed beneath the immortal’s firm yet gentle touch.
“Does Father know you abandoned your station?” I demand. “I suppose I should not be surprised, seeing as how disappearing is what you do best.”
Notus stiffens, and pain darkens his eyes. I’m not prepared for how swiftly his expression eviscerates me. It is not enough to blindly hurl barbs and hope they scar. I seek to wound him as he wounded me. That is fair. Justice. But in witnessing his pain, the only thing I feel is an awful, curdling guilt. The truth is this: I loved him, would have given my life for him. Then he was gone without a word, without… anything.
“I realize that what I did all those years ago hurt you,” he whispers hoarsely. “But you do not know the full story.”
My lips quiver. I struggle to speak. “Then what is the full story?”
The blacks of his eyes are an impenetrable shell. “I would rather explain when you are more in control of your emotions. And preferably not in the stables where anyone can eavesdrop.”
A small, biting smile crooks my mouth. “Sounds like excuses to me.”
The South Wind regards me calmly. He neither cowers nor folds. Always, he plants his feet. He is the rock upon which the wind breaks. Ienvy him that ability. “I was called elsewhere on your father’s orders. Thatis why I was not at my post the other day. If you want to tell your father, be my guest. But it’s pointless to tell the king what he already knows.”
“Tell me what?”
I turn. Flanked by four men, King Halim stands in the stable doorway, posture flattened, wilting in the insufferable heat.
Do I trust the South Wind’s word, or might there be more to his claims than he is willing to reveal? Ignoring Notus’ warning glare, I reply, “That there has been a misunderstanding, Father. Notus seems to think he is to accompany me on the ride.”
“That is correct.” The king appears unperturbed by my obvious distress. “He will be your chaperone.”
Chaperone.Am I a child or a woman grown?
“I’m not certain I understand why I need a chaperone in addition to an escort, Father. Prince Balior is already accompanying me, and I’ve visited Kir Bashab frequently, as you know. I’m familiar with the trails.”
“Do not act dense, Sarai. It is not becoming of you.” A sweet reek perfumes Father’s robe: the incense used to help rid his wasted body of illness. On the days he is well enough to leave his rooms, the physician encourages him to take walks for his health. The king often visits the stables for this very reason. “You know as well as I do that the darkwalkers grow stronger. I will take no chances.”
“And you know as well as I do, Father, that darkwalkers do not typically emerge in broad daylight,” I counter, though recent occurrences would suggest otherwise.
