Truthfully, he loved the chase. When he hunted, he was content to sit in the bushes for hours before a doe bounded happily by, unaware that predators could be very patient.
The stable doors creaked open, and there she was—dressed for riding, her hair plaited and thrown over her shoulder. The way Draugr responded to her made his jaw clench. The beast had nearly taken Lial’s arm off last month, and now here he was, nuzzling her palm like a gentle pony.
How had she bewitched him?
Elizabeth mounted up, sitting sidesaddle, and they set off. Draugr’s stride wasn’t in great, jolting steps like it usually was; it was relaxed and gentle, his fierce stallion rendered to nothing but a soft-hearted mare.
A sprinkle of rain fell from the clouds overhead, but still, she smiled.
She took the same trail as yesterday, and as she emerged from the forest, he was surprised to see she was no longer alone.
Ambriel. That dick of an angel was there. The angel swooped in and narrowly avoided Draugr’s teeth, which he had attempted to close on the tender membranes of the angel’s wing.
Good horse, Caspian thought furiously.
The two of them stood very close together. How had they been introduced, let alone become friends?
They didn’t embrace, and Elizabeth didn’t kiss or touch him in any manner that could be deemed inappropriate. But when she was with him, she looked … lighter and smiled more broadly. Her demure court mask fell away when she was around him, and she smiled with genuine joy.
The sight made his blood boil.
She laughed at something the angel said, walking Draugr to the edge of the clearing.
Elizabeth shouted something at Ambriel and started galloping across the plain. After a moment, the angel joined.
They were ... racing.
Seeing that he was in danger of losing, the angel started flying at a breakneck pace, trying to catch up. She won by a couple of yards, and they whooped and circled the plain, lining up to race once again.
Clearly, Ambriel had lost, but the fool had given her a head start. They raced twice more, with the angel winning one and Elizabeth winning the last. Each time, they had only won by a hair’s breadth.
She laughed and clapped in victory.
They shook hands, and she walked off, smiling broadly.
Caspian looked down at his own wings. He had never shown a mortal his wings.
Later that day, dinner was a silent affair.
Elizabeth wore a powder-blue dress that she must have brought from Briarton. Apparently, all the dresses he’d bought her, even the modest ones, weren’t good enough for her. His lip curled.
In the evening, he wandered around the castle searching for her.
He found her in the library again, reading.
How could one woman spend so much of her dayreading?
He didn’t approach her, but observed her from afar, his eyes nearly hidden behind the bookshelf.
After a time, her eyes began to close, and her grip on the book slackened. He waited, watching the rise and fall of her chest, and slipped out from behind the bookshelf.
Fiza had done her hair in a pretty updo for dinner, with a crown of braids. She looked beautiful in slumber, with an elegant jawline, a long, slender nose, and full lips. A true noblewoman.
Her nose twitched, and he stepped back, alarmed. He waited a few heartbeats, but her breathing remained even. He relaxed. She was still fast asleep. Her arms trembled.
He frowned.
She was cold.
