Roar (Stormheart #1)(44)
She took her time untying her horse, and when she finished, she turned to face Locke, her eyebrows raised nonchalantly. “Hmm?”
“Your hair. It’s shorter.”
She cleared her throat, and when her eyes stayed just shy of meeting his, he knew he had made her nervous but not why. “I was wearing a scarf before.”
“You were. But I could feel the mass of hair beneath it when you fainted and I caught you. It was much more than you have now.”
She exhaled and shrugged. “It was too much. It would get in the way on the road.” She flicked up one of the short strands and added, “This is easier.”
“Practical.” He liked that.
“Wouldn’t want to be a liability.”
He frowned. “Are you ever going to let that go?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” She pulled herself up into the saddle. “Are you going to teach me anything else about storms? Or shall we spend the next leg of our trip in uncomfortable silence again?”
He stayed on the ground below her horse, the early afternoon sun haloing her.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” he shot back. “Silence doesn’t bother me. Is it the quiet or me that makes you uncomfortable?” She stared at him, her eyes narrowed and hands fisted tightly in her horse’s mane. He grinned, and she snatched up her reins.
It was plain she meant to end their conversation, but he lingered a moment longer. He smoothed a finger down her horse’s muzzle, and the pretty mare leaned into his touch. He rubbed gently, just above her nostrils, and her ears flicked with approval. He leaned in and murmured low to the horse, “Run well for her.” He gave the horse one of Jinx’s berries, and the mare pushed her nose into his hand searching for more. Roar was glaring when he looked up.
“Well?” she asked. “Are you going to teach me anything else?”
Once again, he found himself grinning. He was looking forward to wiping that haughty look from her face. “We’ll start your first lesson tonight when we make camp.”
“And what lesson would that be?” she asked.
“How not to die.”
*
Novaya’s hands shook as she told the story of Princess Aurora’s kidnapping. She was panting, having run all the way from the flower fields to scream the news to the soldiers standing guard atop the city walls. Several immediately set out on horseback, while another rushed her to the palace courtyard that was being decorated for the wedding, dragging her before the queen.
Nova did not have to feign distress or tears when Queen Aphra collapsed in the courtyard where she had been happily inspecting flower arrangements for a wedding that would never come to be. Even as Rora’s childhood friend, Nova had always found the queen frightening. She held too many secrets to ever be at ease with her ruler.
But now that strong, powerful woman was a broken heap of wailing mother upon the earth. The sounds that poured from the queen’s mouth pierced through to the bone and dried up the lies in Nova’s mouth.
The soldier next to Nova, a woman with bands on her uniform signifying thunderstorm and fog affinities, stepped forward and said, “We have a unit out searching already, Your Majesty. But we could use more eyes.”
The words seemed to bring the queen back for a moment. She nodded, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Yes. Take them all. Take whatever you need.” Then as if those words had stolen the last of her strength, she slumped to the ground, pressing her forehead into the dirt. Rora had written a letter to give to the queen, and it seemed to burn in Nova’s pocket. She had to get the queen alone as soon as possible to end her torment.
A horrified quiet reigned until Prince Cassius charged down the palace steps.
“Is it true?” he growled.
When no one answered, he screamed the words again and Nova forced herself to say yes.
He marched to stand before her, his face a mask of fury. Her insides roiled with heat. He hissed, “Tell me everything. Quickly.”
Her voice wobbled as she said, “I went out to pick wildflowers for—”
“I don’t scorching care about the godsdamned flowers. How many were there? What direction did they take her? Was she hurt?”
Nova swallowed, and felt her magic begin to climb up her throat and fill her lungs. She balled her hands into fists and clenched her teeth.
“Answer me,” the prince growled.
“Three. Maybe four kidnappers. It happened so fast. I don’t think she was hurt. But she was screaming. They—they bound her. Took both her and her horse. They went south. That’s all I saw. I ran to get help.”
He snapped a finger, and a soldier in Locke blue rushed to his side. “You have command, Ortuze. Find her. Slaughter those who dared to take her. I want their heads.”
The soldier turned to go, and Nova tried to put some distance between her and the prince, edging closer to the grieving queen. Before she got more than a step away, the prince’s hand shot out, shackling her wrist. Flames licked beneath her skin, begging to be set free.
To his commander, he said, “Search the palace too. Starting with this one’s room, in case she was in on the plot.”
Her heart dropped, and she gasped, stumbling as he pulled her back to him. “I—I would never. She’s my—”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”