“No,” the king and Ani say at the same time.
Glaring at them in turn, I set my jaw. “Either you let me go with you or I follow on my own. Even if you lock me in my chambers, I’ll find a way.”
“The creature’s gaze can kill, its bite is venomous, and it spits acidic venom.”
Fear skitters up my spine, but I jerk my chin. “I’m aware.”
His dark eyes flash with irritation, but time is ticking. “Can you ride?” he asks me, and I nod eagerly, not trusting my mouth to blurt out the truth that when it comes to horses, I am extremely adept at bouncing around like a sack of potatoes. Something about the different gaits just throws me. Besides, I’m almost certain there won’t be akasha binding me to the saddle like there is with Razulek. But I won’t let that stop me.
“Get her a godsdamned horse,” the king says to his guard.
“I’m coming, too,” Ani says, and then glowers at me. “To keep you out of trouble.”
“Fine, tell the whole fucking castle to come,” the king mutters. “Get my sister and my”—he cuts off abruptly and curses—“hersome damned armor.”
I don’t even care about whatever he meant to call me; I race to my chambers, and Ziba helps dress me in fresh leathers and a protective scale mail vest. Once I’m back down in the courtyard, a mare is provided for me by the small army waiting there. The king comes out a moment later, dressed in his own silver armor, a massive sword on his back. Ani is already mounted, her face unhappy.
“You don’t have to come,” I tell her, and her only answer is an eye roll.
I hike myself gracelessly into my saddle and settle in place when the king guides his stallion over. His tattoos peek out from the chest plate, twining up the strong bronze column of his throat, and a thin obsidian circlet holds the long silver strands of hair off his brow. “Here,” he says, and hands me a leather-wrapped harness.
“My dagger!” I cry, hefting the familiar weight in my palm, and though my magic doesn’t flow through the steel, it still feels right. “Thank you, Darrius.”
Do the king’s eyes warm slightly? “Just don’t stab me with it.”
“I make no such promises.” The involuntary half curl of his lips that barely qualifies as a smile makes my breath hitch, and I wonder what the man would look like if he ever deigned to smile at me for real. I imagine it would be like seeing lightning strike. I drag my gaze away before it becomes too obvious that I’m staring at his too-beautiful mouth.
Strapping the harness around my hips, I exhale. I’m grateful that the horse is placid and starts to move only when the company does. However, my feeble ability to go from a trot to a canter becomes abundantly clear as we leave Verisia and reach the open plains. Cursing my recent choices when the mare starts to gallop, I hang on with my knees, hands white-knuckling the reins, and try to keep my teeth from cracking or the tip of my tongue from being bitten off.
“You’re ghastly at this,” Ani says, pulling alongside my horse. “Haven’t you flown on an azdaha? It’s the same. You move with the mare.”
I glare at her while trying not to fall off. “Thank you for your expert opinion,Princess. And it’snotthe same with horses at all. This isdiabolical.”
Lips twitching at my disgruntled expression, she reaches over for the reins, slowing both mounts and patting the back of her saddle. “Here, you’re better off behind me.”
But before I can shift over to Ani’s horse, the sound of some command being given reaches my ears, and the king splits off from the lead to gallop back to us. I only belatedly register being scooped up and deposited onto another mount. Theking’smount. The siblings share a look before I’m plastered back against an armored chest with a gasp.
“She rides with me.”
The dominant rasp makes the hairs on my nape rise. Ani says nothing, though her eyebrows raise at the overt display of whatever this is, but then she urges her horse into motion to join the contingent of guards ahead.
One of Darrius’s arms bands about my waist, and I swallow.
“I can manage on my own, you know,” I say primly.
“Can you?” he replies, his warm breath skating over my ear. “I don’t need you falling and snapping your pretty neck.”
I tilt my chin up, catching sight of his sharp jaw and very grim mouth. I look away as my pulse doubles, his scent surrounding me. “As opposed to you having the honor?”
“Exactly. The pleasure of your death is mine and mine alone.”
I blink. Was the king being...witty? And why does his husky tone sound like he’s not talking about death at all? I suppress a shiver.
The horse speeds to a gallop, and I brace myself to flop around as I’d been doing so ungracefully before, but between his mastery of the enormous stallion, his firm grasp around me, and his own fluid gait, it’s like night and day. My hips and bottom are plastered to him, and while his armor keeps us from actually touching, that doesn’t stop my brain from venturing into places it shouldn’t.
His gloved thumb skates over my mail-covered ribs, dangerously close to the underside of my breast, and I suck in a breath, torn between wanting him to go higher and throwing myself bodily off the horse. “What’s the matter?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I choke out. “What will happen to my mare?”
