“Why? Do you think I am going to sprint into the woods the moment you blink?” I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest, my eyes narrowed as I waited for him to answer.
Rhael did not answer immediately, although I watched his jaw tense, muscles ticking beneath the bronzed skin. It was a very clear confirmation, which stung more than I had expected.
I had not attempted to escape the court, not once. Even during the endless hours of boredom, leaping from a high window had briefly seemed appealing.
“You wander,” he said finally. “You vanish into rooms you should not enter, and I will not spend this journey chasing you across half my realm.”
His gaze lingered on me for a moment too long. Even irritated, he remained frustratingly handsome. I hated that.
“I am not a stray dog that needs to be leashed,” I snapped. Truthfully, the idea of riding his horse worried me more than the insult upset me. It meant closeness, too much of it. I had learned long ago never to let a master get too close.
Someone behind me. The one position and advantage I never allowedanyone to have over me.
Rhael mounted the stallion in one fluid movement, settling easily into the saddle. The horse barely shifted beneath him, clearly accustomed to its rider.
“You are unpredictable,” he said sharply. “Now. Get. On. The. Horse.” he demanded, seeing my hesitation as nothing more than an act of defiance.
“You don't trust me,” I replied quietly.
“No. I trust no one,” he said without pause.
The blunt honesty should not have caught me off guard, but it did. Fae were meant to be creatures of courts and celebrations, beings who thrived among their own kind. Yet Rhael always stood apart, even now surrounded by his soldiers, he seemed alone.
I knew from rumours that his brother's death had broken something in him, everyone knew it. Though the longer I watched him, the clearer the severity of the fracture became.
“Get up here,” He snapped again, clearly losing patience.
“Say please,” I said, my voice sickly sweet. In truth, it came out sounding dangerously close to flirting, which had not been my intention.
In truth, I was stalling. To climb onto the horse meant sitting directly in front of him, trusting him not to push me from the saddle halfway through the journey.
The memory rose uninvited. I’d been younger, reckless and foolish in my defiance rather than careful. I’d argued with my master’s son, whobelieved I should bow simply because he demanded it.
Instead, I turned my back and walked away. Not expecting his arm around my throat before I had taken three steps. He’d dragged me backwards against his chest, choking the air from my lungs. At that moment, I was certain I would die.
The alternative had been worse. The master had stopped him, that time. However, there would be several times after that before I was handed back that I would not be so lucky.
The smell of his aftershave had lingered on my skin for days. Sometimes when I felt particularly vulnerable, I could still remember the sensation of those arms tightening around my throat.
“Elara,” Rhael’s sharp voice dragged me back to the present.
“Fine,” I muttered, wiping my damp, sweaty, palms against my riding leathers. “Don’t get your feathers in a twist.”
“Feathers?” He repeated. For the first time that morning, his irritation faltered.
“Well, I haven’t seen your wings, but I assume they have feathers,” I shrugged.
“Impossible human,” he muttered under his breath, but not quietly enough. The word human ached in my chest more than anything else. Not just the word but the way he said it.
“Look,” I said finally. “I don’t like people behind me,” I admitted, knowing I could not stall any longer.
“What?” Rhael’s brows furrowed.
“Someone being behind me, it makes me tense. Much easier to snap someone's neck from that position,” I explained.
“Then I will give you my word,” he said simply. Holding out his hand.
“That you will not snap my neck?” I asked, tilting my head to the side.
