by Cayla Kluver
“Where are we going?” I asked as I approached.
“To the clearing,” he replied, his tone revealing that he viewed my question as superfluous. “You’ll need to wear those breeches again.”
He turned and hiked on. Beginning to feel the weight of my skirt as we climbed a small slope, I called to him, panting from exertion.
“Perhaps I should change now. It would make all this walking easier.”
He stopped and turned to face me, silently consenting. I moved into the cover of the trees and pulled on the breeches, emerging this time without a moment of indecision. After I had placed my skirt into the basket and surrendered both to Tadark, I began to follow Narian once more.
When we reached the clearing, Narian walked behind the same tree from whence he had previously obtained the half-sword, but when he emerged this time, he held a long, coiled rope. He gave the rope to me and went to Tadark’s horse.
“We’re not going to be fighting today, if that’s what you wish to ask,” Narian volunteered, guessing my thoughts and managing with his simple statement to fill me with dread. “Then what are we doing?” I queried as he stripped the saddle and pad from the horse’s back.
Tadark’s body went rigid and his eyebrows dove toward his nose in a scowl, which Narian ignored. After putting the saddle on the ground, Narian grabbed the reins, pulling them from my bodyguard’s grasp, and led the horse toward me.
“Surely women in Cokyri don’t ride horses,” I hedged, hoping I was wrong about his intentions.
“The woman who raised me is one of the best riders in the empire,” he told me, and I noted that this was only the second time he had referred to someone who had been present during his childhood. I was too absorbed in my own predicament, however, to give his statement further consideration.
“You don’t expect me to get on that creature, do you?” I sputtered, ready to refuse with all my strength of will.
“Do you expect me to continue teaching you?” he countered, taking the rope from my hand and attaching it to the horse’s bridle.
I frowned, not liking where this was heading.
“I…do.”
“Then I suggest you get on the horse.” There was the slightest trace of humor in his voice.
He tied the reins together and slipped them over the animal’s neck, laying them upon its withers. The horse was a dark bay with a black mane and tail, and although it stood calmly enough, I was certain there was an evil gleam in its large brown eyes. It snorted and pawed the ground as if to substantiate my belief.
“I don’t like horses,” I said, though I sensed there was nothing I could do to deter him.
I gazed at Narian pleadingly, but he simply stood beside the bay, patting its neck, his steely eyes commanding me. With a deep breath, I acquiesced and stepped up to the beast, then waited for Narian to lift me onto its back.
He did no such thing. He simply bent his knee toward me while holding the reins under the horse’s chin, offering his leg as a step so that I could mount by myself. As much as I wanted to, my pride would not let me back down, even though it seemed to me that the animal had grown incredibly large in the last few seconds. If Narian thought I could mount this beast by myself, then I would not prove him wrong. I put my left foot on his leg and hoisted myself upward, balancing a moment before proceeding.
“Take hold of the mane,” he instructed, and I did as I was told, wrapping my fingers into my mount’s coarse hair. Surprisingly, I managed to jump up on the first try, though I landed on my stomach across the horse’s back. I fought to avoid sliding downward, employing my full strength so that I was finally able to swing my right leg over the beast and sit upright.
I beamed at my accomplishment, even though Tadark, who was standing at the edge of the clearing near the saddle, gazed askance at me. I ignored him, looking instead at Narian, who was shaking his head in mild amusement.
He began to lead the horse and before I knew it, had extended the rope so that the bay was walking briskly around him in large circles.
“Sit up straight, but don’t stiffen,” Narian said to me, his voice light and calming. “You can let go of the mane. I promise you won’t fall.”
I relinquished the mane, to which I had been clinging quite tightly, and rested my hands on my thighs. I began to think myself silly for having been so fearful of riding, feeling more secure now that I had mounted on my own and was sitting on the back of the moving animal without having suffered injury.
“Now let your legs stretch down,” Narian directed, falling silent when I obeyed.
As I relaxed, my hips moved with the horse’s gait, and I began to feel as if riding was an improvement over walking. Although I hated to admit it, I was enjoying myself, and couldn’t keep from smiling.
“You’re doing well,” Narian said to me. “You may yet become a rider.”
“What else do I need to know?”
“Hold on to the mane again, and I’ll show you,” he said, and my anxiety reemerged.
I latched onto the horse’s thick locks, but before I could question Narian’s instruction, he urged my mount into a slow trot with a soft cluck of his tongue.
Instinctively, I leaned forward into the animal’s neck, clinging to its flowing black mane, certain I would fall. As I flopped about like a fish trapped on shore, I wanted nothing more than for my riding lesson to end.
“Sit up,” Narian called. “You have to sit up straight and move with the horse, just like before.”
“But that’s impossible!” I cried, my voice breaking every time one of my mount’s hooves connected with the ground.
“It’s not impossible. You simply have to try. Now use your hands to push yourself upright.”
His words might have been reassuring had I still been paying attention, but I was too petrified to comprehend, afraid I would crash to the ground. My pride and my determination not to disappoint Narian had deserted me, and now surviving was the only thing upon which I concentrated.
“Alera, you’re not listening to me,” he said, and I was beginning to think he found me entertaining. “I can’t!”
Narian brought the horse to a halt and came toward me, casually coiling the rope around his hand. I sat up as he approached. Maybe he’s given up on me, I thought, silently begging him to help me dismount.
He untied the end of the rope from the bit and tossed it to the side.
“Move forward,” he said.
“What?”
“Move toward the neck,” he repeated, speaking slowly as if he thought my awkward riding had jostled my brain.
I slid forward, disappointed that the lesson was not coming to an end. Before I could venture a guess as to what he was planning, he had grabbed the mane and swung onto the horse’s back, landing behind me. Placing a hand on my waist, he pressured me to shift toward him so I would be correctly positioned on the animal’s back.
He reached around me and took the reins in both hands, clucking so that the bay moved back into a trot. I was tense now for more than one reason—the gait was no more comfortable the second time around, plus Narian was sitting so close to me that I was forced to rest against him.
If I was feeling flustered before, however, what he did next put me into shock. He dropped the reins, which were still tied together so they would not fall to the ground, and placed his hands upon my hips.
“You are too stiff,” he said, his tone calming. “Just sink into the horse’s gait, and let your body move with it.”
With his hands he began to guide my hips into following the rhythm of the horse’s legs, and warmth spread from his palms throughout my entire body.
The trot now felt much smoother and was easier to ride, and I once again had to work to suppress a smile of accomplishment. We rode in circles just as I had while Narian had been on the ground, the horse responding to the pressure he applied to its sides with his legs. He turned our mount around to trot in the other direction, the quickness of the animal’s motion startling me, but w
ith his hands resting steadily on my hips, I was not frightened.
“This isn’t so tricky after all,” I announced, proud of my new abilities.
“I’m glad you feel that way because we have one last lesson today.”
I didn’t know whether to be pleased or apprehensive. “And what lesson is that?”
He gave a short laugh, and then released my hips to wrap his right arm around my waist. Without warning, he pulled me sharply to the left so that we toppled off the horse, and I shrieked in alarm as the ground came up to meet us.
Narian twisted so that I landed mostly on top of him, my cry stuck in my throat due to the jolt of the impact. I was too dazed to react for a moment, then scrambled to my feet, horrified, as I realized that my position on top of him was hardly proper.
“What sort of lesson was that?” I demanded.
I could scarcely believe that after he had promised me I wouldn’t fall, he had made me do so. I was too flabbergasted to be angry, though the latter emotion would likely emerge soon enough.
Narian had propped himself up on his elbow and, to my astonishment, he began to laugh. His face was alight and he looked like a different person altogether, his cheeks flushed with happiness, his blue eyes bright and unguarded. My anger and incredulity were shut out for an instant as I saw a genuine smile grace his features for the first time since I had known him.
“You’re…laughing,” I said, strangely not offended by the fact that he was laughing at me. Instead, I was touched. He had always hidden his feelings and I felt privileged that I was the one around whom he felt he could drop his cold pretenses.
The smile faded as he came to his feet. He regarded me almost fondly for a moment before his countenance became shielded, as if his sudden display of emotion had been a mistake.
“Now that you know you can handle a fall,” he said, “you’ll be less worried about it in the future.”
My attention was drawn by Tadark’s outraged stomping as he advanced on Narian, stopping directly in front of him, his left hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
“Get away from the Princess!” he barked, though the distance I had created between myself and Narian when I had leapt up was several feet, and no attempt had been made to close that gap.
Narian’s face did not change, except that his eyebrows went up in amusement, as Tadark, posturing like a child in the throes of a temper tantrum, began to berate him.
“This is so vastly improper I can barely stand it. Women in breeches, women on horseback. And a princess, no less! I don’t know what you were thinking—she could have been injured. She could have died! Your behavior is reprehensible.” Rounding on me, he added, “Both of you! I don’t care what you say, Princess, and I no longer care whether I lose my post over this or not—no more of these lessons. You could have been hurt! Not to mention how horribly unbecoming it is for a lady of the royal family to be…to be…”
He gestured violently with his hand to indicate my appearance, his face red, jaw clenched and eyes bulging, unable to find the correct descriptive words.
“And you,” he said, pointing an accusatory finger at Narian, “were sitting much too close to her!”
Tadark marched over to his not-so-lively steed, which was contentedly munching grass, and snatched its reins. He led it over to where I had mounted, and tossed on the saddle, fastening it with a vengeance.
“We’re going back,” he pronounced, leaving no room for argument.
I shot Narian a rueful look, hoping Tadark had not offended him, but he showed no reaction, following after my antagonistic bodyguard and his horse. I knew that I should be outraged by Narian’s conduct, but instead I resented Tadark for interrupting us and ending the lesson.
We stopped halfway back so that I could change clothes, then continued on our way. We reached the edge of the forest just as Miranna and Semari, bored with berry picking, were beginning to look for us.
“Oh, there you are,” Miranna said, her eyes flitting from me to Narian suggestively. “Where were you?”
“We went for a walk,” I explained smoothly.
“With Tadark’s horse?”
I shrugged toward my guard as if to say that he was the reason the horse had accompanied us.
We sat in the shade to eat some of the delicious raspberries and blackberries that Miranna and Semari had picked, then the younger girls scrambled into the buggy and we packed the baskets around their feet. I winced as I climbed up to sit next to Halias on the hard wooden seat. Horseback riding, or perhaps falling, had made me quite sore.
“Is anything wrong, Princess?” Halias asked at my sharp intake of breath.
“No, I’m fine. Picking berries was just more strenuous than I expected it would be.”
The dubious glance he gave me was a reminder that he was well aware of my failure to participate in the activity.
CHAPTER 19
SEES ALL AND TELLS ALL
WE STAYED A SHORT WHILE AT KORANIS’S HOME before beginning what, for me, was an unpleasant trip back to the palace, as the jostling inherent in the buggy ride did nothing for my aches. Miranna looked at me several times, but did not dare press me for information given the proximity of our bodyguards and with a Palace Guard as our driver. Upon our arrival, I retreated, exhausted, to my rooms, instructing Sahdienne to prepare my bath. I was taking a soothing soak in the water when there was a knock on the door to my quarters.
I would have sent my maid to answer, but I had dismissed her after she had readied my bath, and Tadark was off duty as I had no plans to go anywhere else this day. I waited, hoping my would-be visitor would leave, but the knock was repeated with more insistence. I slipped on my nightgown to pad through the parlor and open the door myself, certain of whom I would find on the other side.
Miranna sprang across the threshold, seized my hand and dragged me into my bedroom, settling herself upon the bed. I lowered myself to sit beside her, my muscles stiff and sore, knowing what she wished to discuss.
“So tell me what you were really doing today.”
“You probably wouldn’t believe me if I did,” I replied with a quiet laugh. “Try me.”
“All right, I was given my first horseback riding lesson.”
Miranna gasped, wide-eyed. “Well, that’s unexpected.”
“It was for me as well.”
She smiled slyly. “Well, is Lord Narian a good teacher?”
My cheeks pinked as I recalled the pleasure I had felt when Narian had been sitting behind me on the horse’s back.
“Can I assume then that you’ve been enjoying your lessons?” she teased, reading me with ease.
Hoping to save myself from further embarrassment, I said lightly, “They’re quite unlike anything I’ve experienced before.”
“Sounds to me like Steldor may have acquired some competition.”
Miranna’s smile faded, for she knew Steldor was not a good topic to broach around me, but she could not take back the words.
“With or without competition, Steldor has no chance of winning my affections,” I declared, my detestation for the young man gaining control of my tongue.
“Have you spoken to him since…we were together in the garden?”
“No, nor do I have any desire to speak with him. I’d prefer he keep his distance.”
If possible, Miranna’s face fell even further, her eyes dropping to the cream-colored spread atop my bed. I understood then that she viewed herself as at least partly responsible for my negative feelings toward Steldor, perhaps thinking she had come between us. I regretted having entered into the subject, not only for my sake, but for hers as well.
“My objections to Steldor originated long before the incident in the garden. You are not responsible for the way I feel about him,” I reminded her.
She raised her head and I patted her hand, which was enough to reawaken her playful mood.
“And do you have objections to Narian?” she cajoled.
I mentally revisited my rationale for
why Narian could not be counted among my suitors—he was too young, although in truth the youthfulness of his face was belied by the lack of childishness in his manner. I could not fathom what kind of upbringing would compel someone to act so much older than his years. And then there was the fact that we had learned next to nothing about his past. I had a difficult time placing my trust in someone about whom so little was known.
But today I had seen a different side of Narian. I had glimpsed within him someone to whom I could relate, perhaps someone I could befriend. But just as quickly as that part of him had emerged, it had vanished. I sighed as I tried to figure out how best to express my thoughts.
“I don’t know how to feel when I’m around him. I’ve spent quite some time with him now, and yet he won’t let me see who he really is. He is always so serious, so aloof and distant. Today was the first time he truly relaxed, and it was only for a fleeting moment.”
“What happened today?” Miranna queried, and I realized I had not shared any details of the day’s visit.
“I fell off the horse,” I said, knowing there was no way to make that particular event sound more dignified. “And he laughed.”
For some reason, I did not want to tell Miranna that Narian had been on the horse with me and had pulled me from its back.
“You weren’t hurt, were you?”
“No, just my pride. But in that moment, Narian seemed so open— I had never seen him like that before. I couldn’t help but feel something for him.”
“Feel what?”
“I don’t know,” I said, the truth gnawing at my insides. “It’s all so confusing.”
My sister’s sly tone returned. “Do you find any other young man likewise confusing?”
“No, he’s very unique.”
She smiled sweetly.
“What?” I demanded, irked by the way that smile suggested she knew more than I did.
“I’ve never heard you talk about anyone this way before.” She giggled, and I could not contradict her. “You may as well accept it, Alera—you have another suitor.”
