‘I don’t need you to look after me!’
‘I know that.’
Prince Ottone nudged his horse alongside Flint. Bending forward in the saddle, he reached across and grabbed hold of Alinore’s hands. She jumped at the feel of his large, rough palms, calloused from sword fighting but warmer than she expected. She thought he was going to snatch away her reins, to wrest control from her, but instead he stayed still, his hold firm but gentle, anchoring her in place.
‘I’m not trying to stop you,’ he said, his dark eyes burning into her own. ‘I understand now that there’s nothing in this realm that could do that.’
It was difficult to concentrate with the grip of his fingers over her own. His thumbs brushed lightly against her knuckles, a whisper of a touch that made her throat tighten unexpectedly.
‘Would you consider a bargain?’ he asked.
She blinked, thrown by the sudden shift. His nearness, the weight of his gaze and the sincerity in his voice left her dizzy. ‘What’re you talking about?’ she snapped.
‘If you return to Tormale with me now, I will escort you to the High King’s court this spring on my way back to battle. I’ll vouch for your knightly training myself.’
Alinore narrowed her eyes, instinctively searching for the caveat hidden in his soft tone. ‘Why?’ she asked, her voice flat and guarded.
Prince Ottone was not perturbed. He simply looked at her as if he were seeing her clearly for the first time. ‘It’s what I should have offered you from the start,’ he replied. ‘You’re a talented fighter and you train harder than anyone I know. You deserve proper recognition for it. If there’s ever to be a Lady Knight of the Kingdoms of Galasque in our time, it will be you.’
Alinore felt something stir deep within her: a flicker of the girl who had once clutched her father’s knightly sword in the villa of her old home, dreaming of honour, of purpose, of a place among warriors.
‘Do you think the High King will listen to you?’ she asked.
‘I can’t guarantee it, but there might be some novelty in granting such a thing for him. It’s more likely to lead to success than visiting Lord Lassiaro, anyway.’
There was sense in what Prince Ottone was proposing. Alinore had not completely thought through what lay ahead and she hadbeen ignoring niggles of doubt since she set off yesterday. But still, to turn back now would feel like a defeat.
‘I’ve already spent flecks on lodgings,’ she said.
‘I’ll recompense you,’ replied Prince Ottone quickly.
‘I bought this horse.’
‘It’s a good horse. You can keep it in the castle stables.’
‘I cut my hair.’
‘I told you, it suits you.’
Prince Ottone leant closer, and Alinore stilled. Her breath hitched as his face hovered just inches from hers, his expression unreadable. She felt her gaze drawn to his lips; they were full, expressive, and a little chapped from the breeze. For a brief, confusing, wonderful moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. The space between them pulsed with something fragile and undeniable.
Then he pulled away.
Alinore blinked, startled out of the moment. She stared at him, stunned, half angry and half relieved, as he grinned like the boy he had once been.
‘Do we have a deal?’ he asked, his voice light but his eyes still watching her closely.
She huffed, partly from the rush of adrenaline, partly from sheer disbelief. ‘You’re infuriating,’ she muttered.
‘Frequently,’ he agreed with a smile.
Alinore glanced down at where his hand still rested lightly on hers. She could feel a remaining echo of tension that had almost tipped into something else. Then she lifted her chin, weighing her pride against the strange, fluttering hope that had taken root in her chest.
‘Yes,’ she said. Then, ‘No.’
‘Which is it to be? The choice is yours to make.’
She twitched in the saddle. ‘I’m not returning to the castle,’ she replied finally. ‘I don’t want to seeKingSamsel. If he hears of this plan, he’ll find some way to stop it. I’ll need to stay somewhere else in the city until we leave.’
