Val’s scowl was dark as he shook his head, refuting whatever comment the captain had made. And then he abruptly turned his horse away from his friend, ending their discussion, and came alongside the carriage, not seeing the vicious glare Tristan threw back at them both.
“Your Majesty, Princess Alanna.” Val nodded courteously. “We’re just arriving at Ravenstone.”
It was polite to update them, but she also knew it was an excuse for him to get away from Tristan.
The cavalcade entered a wide field of swaying grasses sprinkled with bright yellow and purple flowers that nodded gently in the warm summer air. The meadow was surrounded by softly rolling hills, with a small wood in the distance, and at its center stood a colorful pavilion, its silks fluttering in the breeze.
Tristan helped King Geraint down from the carriage, the old man taking his time to stretch his stiff joints. And then, as they waited, Tristan looked up and flashed her an annoyed sneer. She flinched, not expecting such blatant dislike. None of this was her fault.
Val stiffened—he had seen the hurt on her face—and she quickly covered it, settling her features into the unfeeling mask she needed to survive even an hour at court.
She lifted her chin and allowed Val to help her from the carriage, doing her best to show that she was unaffected by Tristan’s dislike, hoping that it would ease the look of misery that she’d seen flickering in Val’s eyes.
A feast had been prepared and Alanna and Geraint sat together as the king ate some pie and drank some ale. Val brought her a plate, but she wasn’t hungry. She just wanted the whole thing over. She wanted the treaty ratified and her people safe so that she could go back to hiding in her room.
Ballanor hadn’t bothered with her recently, thank the Bard. She had no bruises that she would have to try and explain to her mother.
Her mother who still hadn’t arrived. Where was the woman? Surely she would be in as much of a hurry as Alanna to get this meeting over with.
Hours passed as the pavilion grew hotter and hotter. Flies buzzed around the food despite the king’s page’s valiant attempts to ward them off and the noise scraped at her nerves.
Sweat trickled stickily down her back as the minutes dragged in uncomfortable silence.
Eventually she couldn’t stand it anymore, she had to move or she would scream. She turned to King Geraint. “Your Majesty, would you like to walk in the meadow? I noticed that there are some beautiful purple-spotted orchids.”
The king waved his hand and grunted, hardly bothering to respond. But he rose from his seat, and they walked slowly from the pavilion.
If anything, it was even hotter out in the sunshine. The loud drone of bees and insects buzzing through the long grass surrounded them as they wandered along a dusty path. Val followed a few paces behind, leading Boreas, his massive dappled gray destrier.
It only took a few minutes before the king grew tired of the dry heat and returned to the pavilion to sit down, while Alanna and Val meandered further and further away, across the meadow.
What a relief to be out in the summer sun with Val, everyone else too far away to bother them. These were the moments she lived for.
The tension in Val’s shoulders released ever so slightly and she smiled. His lip twitched, and she almost thought he might smile back. But then he froze. His eyes locked on the woods.
Their wanderings had brought them closer to the trees, and he was staring into the darkness beneath their branches, his entire body rigid.
“Val?” she asked, uncertain. But he didn’t answer.
His eyes narrowed and then with a sudden, shocking burst of speed, he flung himself forward, leaping toward her, picking her up and launching her into Boreas’s saddle.
She was off-balance, slipping, her heart thundering as she frantically grabbed for the reins, trying to seat herself despite her layers of formal skirts.
Beside her, Val gave a piercing whistle. She recognized the battle call of the Hawks, but before she could fully process what was happening, he was leaping into the saddle behind her. His strong arm wrapped around her waist, holding her tight into his hard body.
She didn’t know what he had seen, but she trusted him with her life. If he thought there was danger, there was. Her breath caught in her throat, fear and confusion swarming through her as she tried to see what he had seen.
Val’s muscles bunched powerfully as he kicked Boreas into a gallop. He leaned forward and pushed the massive stallion to fly through the meadow. The wind rushed in her face, whipping her hair as she struggled to find a grip in Boreas’s mane.
And then the arrows started to fall.
The missiles swarmed through the air in a black cloud, guards and horses falling screaming beneath them. Somewhere in the distance a man shouted rough orders as bugle calls and shrill whistles rent the air.
Everything was chaos and noise and fear. Death and pain. Someone screamed in agony and she whimpered with the horror of it all, but Val held her, protecting her with his body and all she could do was cling to him as Boreas flew forward.
“Head down.” Val’s voice rumbled behind her, and she did her best to curl herself into him, staying low and not blocking his vision as they thundered up the rise, out onto the long road, and then away.
Almost as soon as they reached the road, Val turned them off it, onto narrow side roads and small, unused tracks. He kept Boreas at full gallop until they were far away from the main road, and then brought them to a swift, ground–eating canter.
