The man came forward, dragging a handkerchief over his bald head. The closer he got, I realized he was a wolven. His eyes were the blue of a winter morning. “Good.” He bowed his head in greeting. “And you?”
“Never been better.”
A grin appeared as Coulton’s gaze slid to me. The smile halted as he suddenly took a step back. He stared at me, and I tensed, my hands tightening on reflex—squeezing Casteel’s. I immediately forced my grip to relax. Either it was the scars, or the wolven realized who I was—who I used to be. The Maiden. I reminded myself that I couldn’t necessarily blame him for his reaction.
“Is everything okay, Coulton?” Casteel asked, tone flat.
The wolven blinked and then his smile reappeared. “Yeah. Yes. Sorry. It’s just I had the weirdest sensation.” He looked at his Prince, the olive tone skin deepening to a ruddy color. “Like a staticky, charged feeling.” He shoved the handkerchief into the front pocket of his sleeveless shirt. “Is this her? Your fiancée?”
Wanting to believe that the wolven spoke the truth, I knew better than to believe something simply because I wanted it to be true. I opened my senses and reached out to him. The invisible connection formed, and I expected the bitter taste, the choking heaviness of distrust and dislike. That’s not what I felt. The cool splash against the back of my throat was surprise, followed by the tart sensation of confusion. It felt like he was speaking the truth.
“This is Penellaphe,” Casteel said. “My fiancée.”
Hearing the coolness in Casteel’s tone, I stepped forward and extended my hand as I smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Coulton.”
A smile appeared, one that stretched across the wolven’s entire face. “It’s an honor to meet you.” The wolven took my hand, and his eyes widened. Through the connection, I felt his surprise once more. “There it is again. That feeling of static.” He laughed, still holding my hand as he shook his head. “Perhaps it is you, Penellaphe.”
Having felt nothing, I said, “I’m not sure about that.”
“I don’t know. You feel as if you’re…full of energy. Heard you descended from Atlantia.” He squeezed my hand and then let go as he looked at Casteel. “I imagine it’s from a powerful line.”
Casteel tilted his head as my brow puckered. “I believe she is.”
“Are you here for Setti?” Coulton asked. “If so, he’s out in the pasture.”
“No. He needs his rest. I just need two horses.”
“Two horses?” I questioned.
“That’s my other idea.” Casteel’s features relaxed into a grin. “To teach you how to ride by yourself.”
“What?” I whispered.
“Ah. I’ve got the perfect horses for that.” Coulton pivoted, walking toward the stalls along the right side of the stables. “There are two older mares in here. Great temperament. Not likely to take off.”
“You think this is a good idea?” I asked.
“Now seems like a better time than most,” he told me. “And you’re going to do just fine after being on Setti.”
I wasn’t so sure about that as Coulton led out a stocky, white and brown horse along with a fawn-colored one. Neither were as large as Setti but they were still big enough to trample me to death.
“Which one do you think is the best fit?” Casteel asked.
“Molly here is a good girl.” Coulton patted the side of the spotted one. “She’ll be gentle.”
Once they were saddled, Casteel nudged me toward Molly. “You’ll do just fine,” he told me, voice low as Coulton held onto both horses’ leads. “I’ll keep her reins until you’re ready.”
Nervous and a little scared, I pushed past that. I’d always wanted to learn how to ride, and it was a necessary skill that I lacked. Now was as good a time as ever.
I stroked Molly’s muzzle as I walked over to her side, swallowing. Casteel followed, and I knew he was going to help me up. “If I fall, try to catch me.”
“I can do that.”
“Please don’t kill me,” I murmured as I reached up, gripping the saddle. “Being killed by a horse named Molly would be embarrassing.”
Both of them chuckled, but as I placed my foot in the stirrup, Casteel said to the wolven, “You have the reins?”
“Molly isn’t going anywhere.”
I hauled myself up, remembering at the very last second to swing my leg over. A moment later, I was seated, and I’d done it by myself. I looked down at Casteel.