Her eyes search mine a moment before she nods.
Preparing to help her onto Vaelen, I settle my hands around her waist. “Alright.” I start to lift her. “You just need to swing your leg over his back.”
“Wait!” She writhes in my arms, twisting until I have no choice but to release her or risk holding her in a way that might get me slapped.
“What’s wrong?”
“Are you mad? I cannot ride astride.”
I blink, confused. “Why not?”
“It would be highly improper to show my calves and my ankles,” she declares, as if I’ve just suggested she ride naked into battle. She lifts her chin, her expression set in imperious defiance. “A noble lady only rides side-saddle.”
I stare at her, certain I must have misheard. My gaze shifts past her, settling on Vaelen, who watches the exchange with unnerving intelligence, ears flicking forward as if he, too, is baffled by this development. “You want to ride side-saddle?”
She lifts her chin higher. “Yes.”
“Are you serious?” I ask incredulously. “If you fall, you could break your neck.”
“Then be a good husband and don’t let me fall,” she replies primly.
I snort in disbelief. “Vivienne. That’s not how this works.”
“I won’t ride astride, Auren. It’s not becoming. My dress would bunch up, my legs and ankles would be showing—”
“I won’t risk your safety over some obscure point of etiquette.”
She folds her arms, her mouth set in a stubborn slash. “I refuse.”
With a heavy sigh, I pinch the bridge of my nose and exhale. Gods above, I’ve just married a storm given human form, but I refuse to risk her safety.
I glance at one of the servants standing nearby. “Would you please fetch a tunic, a pair of pants, and some travel boots for the princess?”
The servant bows swiftly before hurrying off.
Vivienne gasps, her hands clutching the folds of her gown as if I’ve just ordered them to be burned. “I can’t wear pants and boots! I’m alady.”
“Dark Elf women wear them all the time,” I point out.
“I’m not a Dark Elf,” she huffs.
“No,” I agree, stepping closer, lowering my voice. “But you are a Dark Elf’s mate. And I won’t have you breaking your neck over some ridiculous human tradition.”
Her nostrils flare, and she looks very much like she’d like to throttle me.
Before she can argue further, the servant returns with boots, and a neatly folded pair of black trousers, along with a simple tunic, far more suited for travel than the cascading silks she currently wears.
I hold out the bundle to her. “Change quickly. I’ll wait here.”
Instead of moving, she glares at me.
I lift a teasing brow. “Would you like me to help you?”
“Give me that,” she practically growls, snatching the clothing from my hands. She whirls on her heels with a violent sweep of her skirts, but halts when she sees her father and brother watching the exchange with barely concealed amusement.
Their expressions falter as she gives them a withering look.
“He’s only thinking of your safety, my darling girl,” King Edric says gently. “Like any good man would do for his wife.”
