“The princess is in danger,” Lia blurted out.
Tyrell’s brows shot up.
“Do you know Captain Julian?” Lia pressed.
“The fellow with the blue beard?” Tyrell questioned. “I knowofhim . . . but . . . well, he doesn’t talk much.”
Lia told Tyrell everything. She had not planned on sharing all of her worries with him, but Tavia was not there and Tyrell was. She told him how rude Julian had been during the ball,then about the rumors she had heard, and how no one seemed to know what happened to the captain’s former fiancees.
“And yet, I fear, even when I tell the princess,” Lia finished. “She’ll keep pursuing him. She likes a man with an air of mystery, always has.”
“She does?” Tyrell muttered. “Do you think I’ve been too forward?”
Lia groaned. “I don’t know! I just fear if this doesn’t end, Princess Tavia is going to become number eight!”
Somewhere in the distance, thunder clapped.
A cold raindrop landed on Lia’s hand. She shivered.
Something seemed to come over Tyrell, he puffed himself up and, taking both her hands, squeezed them in his own.
“I swear to you, Leah,” he promised. “I will not let that happen.”
Locking her gaze with his, she broke into a warm smile.
“It’s Lia,” she corrected. “But thank you.”
5. A Kiss in the Rain
As the rain increased, Tyrell moved to stand under the eaves of the stable. Lia followed him. One moment, dragged on after another as they waited for Tavia to make her appearance.
“They must be hurrying back,” Lia commented. “I can’t imagine they want to get caught in this rain.”
As if she had spoken a prophecy, a long line of riders appeared on the hilltop, galloping toward them, talking and laughing as they clutched their hoods to keep them from blowing off.
A herd of servants rushed out of the stables to greet them, helping each noble dismount and bringing their horses into the warmth of the barn as quickly as they could.
Lia rushed out with the crowd. Tyrell watched her as she looked widely around for Princess Tavia’s palomino mare. Her movements became increasingly frantic as she realized neither princess nor horse were anywhere among the throng. Tyrell noticed that someone else was missing also—his brine-faced sea-leech of a rival—Captain Julian.
Then, Tyrell spotted a familiar nose sticking out from the recesses of a crimson cloak. That nose he would recognize anywhere.
“Lane!” he called.
Lane was racing into the stables to escape the monsoon. “She’s not here, Tyr!” he yelled over his shoulder.
Tyrell raced after him, catching him just as he made it under the eaves of the stable.“What do you mean, she’s not here?” he demanded.
Lane scowled at him. “I don’t know, do I look like her nanny? She rode off somewhere with the Captain!”
The color drained from Tyrell’s face.
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Tyr,” Lane frowned, drawing his soaking cloak more tightly around his shoulders. “The man’s already had seven fiancees. It’s not like anything is going to come of it.”
“Where did they go?” Tyrell breathed.
“You going to fight him?” Lane asked, a sparkle of interest lighting up his eyes.
“Where did they go?”Tyrell repeated.
