“We should be getting on the road, Lady Sabine,” Basten says without looking at me.
Hatred makes my steps stiff as I tug off his shirt, smash it into his chest, and start to comb my hair over my bare breasts. He keeps his gaze in the opposite direction, like his eyes will burn out of his head if he even side-eyes my naked body.
Myst, I call. The brute says it’s time to go.
She walks over, swinging her head between Basten and me like there is a visible, taut line of tension between us.
She whinnies. Mate?
I gape, utterly horrified. At least only I can hear her voice in my head. No, we didn’t mate! Don’t you dare suggest something like that again!
She snorts again, skeptical.
I mumble curses as I climb onto a stump and swing a leg over her back. Grumpy, I rearrange my loose hair to try to cover every inch of exposed skin. It’s been almost two weeks since Suri helped me wash my hair with scented soap, and now the full, soft waves that her braid made are clumpy and oily.
Basten swings his rucksack onto his back and, wordlessly, we return to the forest road. He walks a few paces ahead, and I bore holes in the back of his head with my glare, cursing him for existing. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be here right now, shamed and naked, thighs rubbed red from riding bareback, in dire need of a bath. I’d be in Adan’s arms. It would be Adan’s mouth on mine. Adan’s hands in my hair. Adan’s hard body atop my own.
Basten has made it crystal clear that escaping from him isn’t an option. I refuse to try again and put Myst or any other animal at risk of what happened to the wildcat. And yet, I’ll be damned if I let these men steer my future. I will never marry the man who forced me on this obscene ride. Somehow—either before we arrive in Duren or after—I’ll evade every gilded bond they’ve shackled me with.
I have to send a message to Adan.
Since I can’t meet him as planned, I need to let him know that I haven’t given up on us. It’s the least I can do after letting Basten kiss me.
The thing is, sending a message should be simple for a godkissed girl who can talk to animals, but it isn’t. Birds are able to travel anywhere in Astagnon within a day, but they don’t think as humans do. Even if one volunteered to help, it would be impossible to explain directions. They don’t understand the concept of town names, road names, or even people’s names. The best they can manage is navigating by natural landmarks, but that’s a challenge, since Basten has taken us into a forest where every valley looks the same.
I raise my voice, daring to break the tense silence that’s pervaded us all morning. “You said there was a crossroads ahead, right?”
“A few miles ahead, yeah. We’ll take the fork east, sticking to the woods.”
The Sisters of Immortal Iyre didn’t bother to teach me geography, so my knowledge of Astagnon’s topography is fuzzy. The best I can rely on are the few conversations I overheard in my father’s manor house, between him and Suri discussing the path I’d take to Duren.
“If we go straight at the crossroads,” I suggest, “That would take us north to Blackwater, right? On the Innis River?”
Basten grunts. “We aren’t going north.”
My thinking is that if I can get to a town on the Innis River, I can find a bird willing to carry a message to Adan. The Old Innis Mill is situated inland along that same waterway, and with its large waterwheel, it should be a clear enough landmark for a bird to recognize. All it would have to do is follow the river until it spots the waterwheel.
“But heading north would be a nearly direct path to Duren,” I press. “Otherwise, we’re wasting time skirting through the forest.”
“Blackwater is no place for a lady.”
Basten clearly isn’t inclined to have this conversation, but I pull Myst to a halt and wait, hands on my hips.
He turns around with a scowl like I’m a thorn in his side.
I clear my throat. “I want to go through Blackwater.”
“What you want doesn’t concern me, Lady Sabine.”
I trade him a scowl. My position on top of Myst gives me the advantage of height, and I draw myself up to take full advantage of that fact. Theatrically, I hold up a lock of my oily hair.
“If you can smell anything beyond your own stench, you would know that I’m in dire need of a bath. I doubt your master would be pleased to have his new bride parade through town looking like a cat who’s been wallowing in the mud. I need to stop at an inn to bathe before arriving in Duren.”
He folds his arms tightly. “I told you, we aren’t going north.”
I lift a pointed eyebrow. “Are there any inns along the forest road?”
“There are not.”
“Then we will be going north.” I bore a hot gaze into his skull as I lean forward threateningly. “Lord Rian commanded I perform this obscene ride naked,” I hiss. “But it’s up to you if I arrive filthy or not, Basten. Give me this one dignity. You owe it to me.”
His hard expression eases. Guilt flashes in his eyes again at my referral to the kiss. His throat bobs in a dry swallow. “Blackwater is a rough town,” he presses. “A river port that draws riffraff from all the bordering territories. A lot of men pass through that town, looking for trouble.”
I don’t back down. “I have every confidence that a guard of your ability can protect me from a few pickpockets.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, cursing under his breath. I know I’m not asking for the impossible—if we had kept the original route through Middleford, we would have passed through Blackwater anyway. So it’s unlikely to be as rough as he claims.
“Fine,” he says tightly. “One inn. One night. One bath.”
I smile in mocking sweetness at him. “You could stand a little soap yourself.”
Blackwater is three days away, which gives me time to think through exactly how I’ll manage to send a message to Adan. It warms my heart to think of him receiving my letter and knowing that I didn’t give up on him. It isn’t the same as us being together, of course, but it would destroy me to think he might believe I abandoned our plans in favor of marrying Lord Rian.
I rub my fingers together absently, recalling Adan’s touch. What a shame my first kiss was with Basten, instead of Adan. The best Adan and I managed under the ever-present eyes of the Sisters was to hold hands in the kidding barn. Seated in the straw with a goat in my lap, Adan’s hand brushed mine as he reached for a towel. We both blushed, and then he smoothed his strong hand over mine intentionally.
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.