I can’t help my sly grin. “Jewel thief.” My truth may be unsavory to some, but it’s still my truth, not that of this wicked Ybarisan princess I’ve been forced to play.
“Why am I not surprised?” The corners of his mouth twitch. “Dare I ask how good you were?”
“Very good.”
“I imagine you were.” His gaze drifts down over my lips where it lingers a moment before he seems to catch himself. He steps back, his expression hardening. “Are you strong enough to walk, or shall I carry you?” he calls out. The set of his jaw tells me he might enjoy throwing the caster over his shoulder like a sack of flour.
Gesine lifts her head, her bleary eyes blinking several times, struggling for focus. She pulls herself off the boulder, and smoothing her palms over her damp, soiled cloak, takes wobbled steps forward.
The morning sun is a blessing. By the time we reach the road, the chill from sitting in wet clothes for hours is gone and a thin sheen of sweat builds under my collar.
Elisaf leans against the trunk of a weeping willow. Two horses graze on a lush patch of grass nearby. The second he spots us, he pulls his lean body upright. “I was beginning to think you’d taken a nap.”
I can’t help my genuine smile. I’ve always felt safer with Elisaf at my side, but also I can’t fathom how Gesine is still on her feet, aside from sheer determination to avoid being tossed over Zander’s shoulder.
She sways toward the brown horse closest to her, her fingers fumbling with the reins. “Would you be so kind as to help me mount?” Her request is breathless, her eyes half closed as her boot digs for the stirrup.
“Certainly.” Elisaf grasps her slender waist and hoists her into the saddle.
Gesine slumps forward, her body sprawling against the horse’s caramel-colored mane.
“I suppose this one is ours, then.” Elisaf swings himself up and behind the exhausted caster, surveying her draped form from various angles, as if assessing how likely she is to tumble off.
Zander greets the black horse with a gentle stroke across its muscular flank. “What news from Cirilea?”
“Nothing that has reached the village yet.”
“And that?” Zander gestures toward Elisaf’s forearm.
I notice the hastily wrapped strip of cloth, soaked in blood. He didn’t have that when he left.
“Oh yes. This.” Elisaf studies it a long moment, as if deciding on his answer. “I had an interesting conversation with Saul’s keeper.” The dangerous gleam in his brown eyes is so contrary to the kindness I have seen. But it’s a reminder that, for all the gallantry my night guard has afforded me over the weeks, he is deadly with a blade.
Zander sighs with resignation. “Come.” He beckons me with a hand. “Our pace will be hard, and I need full control. You will ride behind me.”
I’m too weary to shrink from him. Hauling myself up, I edge as far back as possible, gripping the saddle.
“We’re doing this again, are we?” He climbs on.
“Isn’t that what you want? Distance?” I attempt an aloof tone, but resentment slips out.
“We will certainly have it when you fall off this horse, which I suspect will be within seconds of departure.”
With a glower, I shift forward, molding my thighs to his, focusing on all the reasons I don’t want to be this close to Zander.
He half turns, showing me his handsome profile. “As unappealing as holding on to me may seem, I promise you that breaking your neck will be much more so. And Gesine doesn’t appear to be of any use to fix that for you at the moment.”
Reluctantly, I slink my arms around his waist, entwining my hands. His body tenses against mine.
He nudges the horse’s flanks, sending her off at a gallop that rattles my teeth.