I faced forward again in a huff. “Asshole.”
He spoke near my ear in a low, rumbling voice. “Sit straight. Let your hips find neutral. You need to balance and feel the horse.”
I blew out an annoyed breath and tried. We jostled over the dirt-packed road that led from the palace grounds into thetree-spotted meadow just beyond it, and I slowly loosened my muscles.
He gave an approving grunt. “Better.” The encouragement was breathy and low, and an unbidden thrill fell through me. I slammed my eyes closed in annoyance.
The road grew uneven, and he tapped my hip twice, a reminder to feel the horse’s shifting. I obeyed with my tongue between my teeth. “That’s good.” When he picked up the horse’s pace and I began to lose my balance, he clamped an arm around my waist. “Got you.”
He kept us like that, bodies pressed tightly together in a bumping trot, with his strong arm around me. My heart hammered at our nearness, and I wondered after all the loathsome thoughts that must have been running through Theodore’s mind. In time, I eased into the faster pace, keeping my posture and balance.
“Take the reins.” Theodore pressed them into my hand, and I led us through a curving dirt road lined with small yellow flowers. They swayed and bounced in the wind, as if dancing to some gusting melody I could not hear. The corner of my mouth lifted as I watched them, entranced.
“They’re so pretty,” I said softly, letting the thought slip past my lips.
“They’re weeds.”
“Bloody Gods.” A shot of anger rang though me. “They’re still beautiful.”
He was silent as we wound away from the flowers into a green swaying field. I wished I’d held my temper, though it was not my fault that the man was a maddening, close-minded snob. Finally, and to my surprise, he leaned in close. His cheek pressed to my hair. “You’re right.” He sounded apologetic. “They are.”
I wanted to see his face, his eyes. I wanted to see how they changed when his voice sounded like that. I kept my gaze ahead, but that single moment drained all the remaining strain from my body. Despite myself, I rested against him fully, and we moved atop the horse as if we had fused.
Halfway through the field, Theodore pulled hard on the horse’s reins. We stopped and I sucked in a silent breath when I realized why. I could feel him, long and hard, straining against my backside.
Neither of us moved for a beat. My entire body rushed with fire, but I did my very best to douse it. Neither of us spoke as I ungracefully dismounted. When my feet were finally on the ground, I glanced up at him. His face was flushed, his lips pinched, and a part of me wanted to leave him alone with his mortification, but I shook my head in mock disappointment instead, and said, “You should have just focused on the horse.”
He dropped my horse’s reins and spurred his own down the road.
I couldn’t help but grin. “Aren’t you going to wait for me?” The bond was starting to stretch with nauseating discomfort. “It was a jest!” I clambered into my saddle and by some miracle got my horse to follow.
It wasn’t long before my body began to ache. My mind, too, grew troubled. It filled with a maelstrom of worries and questions and thoughts, one circling the next, dragging me down and down. Not even the arresting beauty of Varya could soothe me.
Theodore rode ahead of me, our horses close. “Have you been to the Mage Seer before?” I finally asked.
He scrubbed a hand through his windblown hair. “Only once.” The words were clipped. Final. He didn’t want to talk, but the festering silence between us was eating me alive.
“And? Is it as awful as Agatha says?”
He adjusted in his saddle. Let the quiet stretch and stretch until I was certain he wouldn’t answer. Then, “Yes.”
Cold, choking dread overcame me. My fingers gripped the reins so tightly they locked up. I asked no more questions. I only watched his tense shoulders and cursed beneath my breath, hating that Agatha was always, always right. The thought that Agatha might also be right about us, that whatever simmered between Theodore and me might leave me permanently marred, was too dismal a thought. I wanted to be free of him entirely. And days spent with him like this, terror-riddled and unspeaking, would drive me mad.
“Let’s have it out, then, shall we?” I waited for his reaction. Finally, he glanced at me over his shoulder, a question in his hard gaze. “Let’s get it all out of our systems. Everything that’s got you in a piss-poor mood. Everything we hate about each other, every grievance, so that when our bond is severed, we’ll be properly purged of each other.”
Theodore let out a low whistle and rode for a few more paces. “That sounds like an awful idea.”
We’d crossed into a vineyard and a warm sea breeze rolled through the wide grape leaves. I spoke loud enough for him to hear me over their rustling. “You scared?”
That did it. He pulled in a deep breath, then slowed his horse until we were ambling side by side. He eyed me sidelong. “I’ll go first.”
I rolled my shoulders, readying myself for the blow.
“Your lack of responsibility astounds me,” he said. “I’ve struggled to understand how someone so entrancing—the daughter of such a stunning, powerful goddess—could have spent her life contentedly curled up in the mountains, like a lazy, overfed cat. Willing to marry that captain. No—you seemedeagerto marry him.” Eachword grew heavier and heavier with scathing anger. “Clinging to him, pressing your lips all over him when he’d done nothing to deserve you. What’s worse—I’m inexplicably envious of the dead bastard. He killed Sirens, and you would have him anyway, and it gnaws at me.” He took in a gulp of air, but it did nothing to quell him. “I struggle to understand why you wouldn’t want to hone your power, to use it tohelp. Why you wouldn’t be desperate to claim the lost seat of your mother’s queendom for yourself. You’re cowardly. And selfish. You gave your blood and prayed for the end of your own kind. You’re only concerned with the parts of the world that touch you. You lack mettle and foresight and yet…” He clamped his jaw to stop himself from saying more.
I tried to blow out my hurt and embarrassment, my shame, but my throat had grown too thick.
He dragged a hand over his brow. “I used to stare up at that statue of Ligea as a boy. Lit candles at her feet and asked for the kind of courage the stories and songs about her told. Then I saw you, her very image, and I—I wanted… It’s been a disappointment to learn that you are a beautiful shell of her.”
