White Horse Black Nights (The Godkissed Bride, #1)(36)

Holding hands with Adan was like warm spring sun on my heart. I can only imagine what kissing him would feel like: hot noonday heat, maybe. Nothing like kissing Basten. The last word I’d use to describe that interaction was “sunny.” Kissing Basten was like embracing a storm. Like being consumed in dark clouds, and claps of thunder, and bolts of lightning and . . .

. . . and I need to stop thinking about kissing Basten.

Okay? Myst asks me. Breathing hard.

By the Immortals, she misses nothing, does she?

I’m, ah, thinking of Adan—the Boy Who Shines Like Sunlight.

She snorts, displeased. Oh. Him.

She doesn’t like Adan, but then again, he did come to the Convent of Immortal Iyre to cut the balls off the livestock, so he might not be my favorite person, either, if I was four-legged.

I tell her about my plan to send him a message, and her response is swift and strong.

Forget him.

For a horse, she can be awfully judgmental. I dig my heels into her sides and say, What, you’d rather see me married to the man my ass of a father chose?

She tosses her head in Basten’s direction, several paces ahead of us. I like that one.

I grumble at her insistence that Basten and I would make a good match. Is she crazy? Granted, she is a horse. Maybe my expectations are too high if I’m expecting sage dating advice from a creature whose greatest joy is grass. But Myst has also known me longer than anyone. She belonged to my mother, and is the only thing I still have of her. No one in the world knows me as well as Myst.

I thought you said he smelled like a predator, I remind her.

He gives me apples.

By the Immortals, this horse will be the death of me. For once, I wish I could shut off my godkiss and listen to nothing but the wind in the trees.

What are you afraid of? Myst asks, tilting her head to look back at me.

The question lodges deep in my chest, reaching past my proverbial armor straight to my heart. I know that she isn’t asking about what gives me jump frights. She wants to know what it is about Basten that sets my nerves on edge and makes my heartbeat stumble. Of course, I could remind her that I’ve already committed myself to Adan. My heart simply isn’t free to search out another man. It’s true that Adan and I barely know each other, but in that brief time together, I felt a stirring of love for the first time in my life.

What kind of a person would I be if I threw that away for a man with a permanent scowl and bullheaded loyalty to a tyrant?

There’s no world in which Basten and I could be together, anyway. I’m intended to marry his master. Basten would never break his oath to the Valvere family, and I’m guessing that my future husband wouldn’t love the idea, either, if I suggested I make out with his huntsman on our wedding night instead of him.

I shift my position on Myst’s back to ease the ache in my thighs.

Basten glances back. “Everything all right, Lady Sabine?”

“It’s my thighs,” I admit with a groan. “It’s fine when I’m riding Myst at a walk, but that gallop to get away from the priests back in Charmont left me aching. It’s only gotten worse since.” I sigh, then lift a shoulder as my irritation fades, replaced by the fond memory of the wind in my hair. “It was worth it, though. I never get to gallop like that. So fast and free. It was incredible.”

In the Convent of Immortal Iyre, the Sisters wouldn’t let me ride Myst beyond the convent’s grounds for fear I’d run away. But the convent was a self-sufficient place with ample fields and gardens, surrounded by a high stone wall. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I would sneak into the barn and mount Myst. The two of us would ride circles around the grounds beneath the moonlight.

Basten tosses back another assessing look, then barks, “Go on, then. Ride free.”

I laugh mirthlessly until I see that he isn’t laughing. My face sobers. “Are you serious?”

A week ago, I tried to escape. I even had a wildcat attempt to end Basten’s life. Why would he now offer me to gallop freely ahead of him? Unless that’s the point—he wants to prove that I can’t ever escape, even at a gallop.

But there’s no cruelty in his eyes. “You and I both know there’s nowhere you can run that the Valveres can’t find you. So, yes, I trust you to return. I can’t hear anyone else in the woods for at least half a mile—it’s safe. Ride Myst as you like, as much as you like, across that distance and back.”

My lips part, still wondering if this is a trick, but Basten hasn’t shown any inclination toward twisted games like his master. He might be a brute, but he is as open as a book.

Myst. I nudge her with my ankles. He’s letting us run. For pleasure.

Her answer is an eager whinny. I tighten my legs around her and wind my fingers through her mane to hold on. Leaning forward, I say:

Go.

Her muscles bunch beneath my thighs as she surges forward. She’s a proud, spirited horse, and she’s craved this rush of movement as much as I have. She was as much a prisoner as me in the convent, and I can feel how her legs stretch out gratefully as she eats up the road.

I cling on, her speed startling but invigorating. The ache in my thighs vanishes as adrenaline floods me. Soon, the edge of panic ebbs, replaced by sheer joy. I feel laughter spilling out from my lips at the same time that tears sting my eyes. My hair whips behind me like a flag proclaiming that I am my own kingdom, and no man shall rule me. Myst’s hooves pound over the dirt road like she’s skipping on clouds. The trees blur on either side of us. We crest a small rise, and the forest opens up below. I can see for miles from here. The river valley stretches beyond with a vastness I’ve never experienced, and it steals my breath. Far in the distance, the mountains of the Blackened Forest rise, where the border wall between Volkany holds back the cursed kingdom. A sense of awe wraps around me like enchanted mist at this vast, beautiful world. So many little towns and hamlets dot the valleys. I imagine all the people down there, working and eating and falling in love, an entire world open for me.