Page 37 of The Masked Princess

Even now, as he sat across from her at the edge of the cliff that overlooked the entire valley, Soren marveled at her beauty.

Golden hair braided away from her face before cascading down in curls that reached her mid-back. Eyes the blue of a deep pond in the middle of winter under perfectly arched eyebrows and long dark lashes. Skin like milk with cheeks the color of a pink rose. A mouth the shape of an upturned bow with plump lips that always seemed on the verge of curving into a smile. The column of her throat was delicate, her shoulders well-proportioned as if she could carry the weight of the entire world, and her chest…

Soren coughed and looked away, his cheeks burning as though someone had lit them on fire.

“Are you okay?” Annalise asked as she divided the dried meat, cheese, and apples between the two of them.

“I’m fine, just got something stuck in my throat.”

“You should be careful. If you choke, I can thump you on the back, but if you stop breathing, I can’t exactly do mouth-to-mouth.”

Soren jerked his head around to look at Annalise, shocked by her choice of words. For a moment, she didn’t even seem aware of what she had said, but then the faint pink of her cheeks turned a deep red.

“That is, I suppose if you’re choking and something is blocking you from breathing, there really isn’t much of a point of that, anyway.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, nodded, and they both focused on the food as if mutually agreeing that silence was the best course forward.

As he stared off in the distance, Soren eventually registered a golden brown smudge that detached itself from the nearby mountain ridge. The smudge grew until he was able to make out wings.

Just as he started to wonder what kind of gigantic bird would have such a great wingspan, Annalise gave a small cry and leaped to her feet. Soren followed as she walked to the middle of the clearing and couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw a pair of winged horses draw close and touch down. Both of them were mares, one a dark seal brown and the other the color of a winter sunset. Once all four hooves were on the ground, they folded their wings and shook their heads. Soren rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

“Princess Annalise, what’s going on?” he said, voice just barely louder than a whisper as the pair of winged horses stared at them both.

“They’re called rhys and they live around here. Surely some of your lessons included them,” she whispered back.

“Yes, but only as legends—beasts so rare they might as well have been myths. Seeing them here in the flesh is…” he trailed off, unable to put his thoughts into words suitable enough for the majesty of the rhys.

“Like seeing a fairytale come to life, yes. I feel the same way. The brown one’s named Brunen; she’s bonded to Helene,” Annalise said as the two rhys approached.

“And the chestnut?”

She shook her head, pursing her lips. “I don’t know. She wasn’t here before.”

“Were you expecting to see them today?”

“Not at all. Helene brought me here the first time and introduced me to Brunen. I’ve been coming up here every few days since, because of how peaceful it is, but I’ve never seen so much as a feather.”

Brunen approached and stretched her neck and head out to Annalise, who held out a gloved hand for the mare to nose. “She and Helene are bonded and communicate through their thoughts.”

“Can you understand her too?” Soren asked, mindful to keep his voice quiet.

“No, only bonded riders have that privilege.”

“Did Helene say how one bonds to a rhys?”

Annalise remained very still as Brunen nosed from her gloved hand up her long sleeves all the way to her shoulder, keeping her eyes on the mare as she continued her conversation with Soren. “She said the rhys choose who they want to bond with, and it could be anyone who comes up here to meet them.”

“Even a baby carried by its mother?”

A smile graced her face. “I don’t know about that, but she did mention something about one bonding with a grandmother. Helene didn’t go into specific details, but from what I’ve heard around the village, when it happens, the bonded riders just kind of… know.”

“It’s amazing that I’ve been here for so long and yet didn’t know about them.” He didn’t say it out of reproach; the rhys were awe-inspiring creatures, and he didn’t fault the Muranans for not telling foreigners about them.

“Helene said that they take great care to protect knowledge of the rhys. That’s why they only have market weeks three times a year—spring, summer, and fall—when they let merchants enter the valley; it allows the rhys to hide while giving the people a chance to trade for goods. During the winter, the rhys come into the valley for shelter and food if the weather is bad enough. Our arrival disrupted their plans.” Annalise glanced at Soren, one corner of her mouth quirking up. “Helene told me it was okay to bring you here. I think she approves of you.”

A flush crept over Soren’s neck, suffusing his cheeks with a warm sensation and robbing him of a response.

Brunen appeared satisfied with her sniffs and nudged Annalise’s shoulder before stepping back and making way for the other mare.