“Do you plan to rule over all of Lumnos from a cabin in the woods?”
“I don’t plan to rule over anything. I told you, I don’t want your Crown. As soon as I find a way to take it off, you and your friends can fight each other for it.”
He frowned. “The only way to pass on the Crown is through death.”
“We’ll see about that,” I muttered, swiping my blanket from the floor and retreating into the lodge.
I stalked back to the fireplace and grabbed my damp clothes. Luther cleared his throat and awkwardly turned away while I dressed, and I felt a little thrill of triumph at having gotten under his skin.
“Even if you insist on remaining here, they’ll still find you,” he called over his shoulder. “The Crown’s gryvern is bound to you now, and Sorae won’t tolerate being separated for long. She’ll follow your scent the moment I return to the palace. My family will know to follow her.”
“Then perhaps I should kill you so you never return.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Sorae will find you nevertheless. The Crown’s power calls to her.”
I thought of the stunning creature I’d seen on my prior visits to the palace—the legendary beast with the head of a sea dragon, the wings and talons of an eagle, and the body of a lion. To have such an incredible animal at my beck and call…
“If you come now,” he said, “you at least come on your own terms. You can reveal only what you wish to reveal. In our world, there is no greater advantage.”
I had to admit, begrudgingly, that he had a point. And I had just been scolding myself about facing my issues head-on.
With a sigh that was almost a groan, I secured my blade belt around my waist, then slipped my feet back into my boots, wrinkling my nose at the squelch of water that had pooled inside.
I walked back into Luther’s line of sight and crossed my arms. “I presume Lily told you I was here?”
He met my gaze but didn’t respond.
I arched an eyebrow. “She was meant to return here. I won’t leave if there’s a chance a young girl will arrive to an empty lodge in the dead of night.”
His jaw tightened. “She won’t be returning.”
“So she did betray me,” I grumbled.
“Don’t be angry with her. She believed she was helping you.”
“Why, because you promised her you would?” I snorted. “And then you showed up waving a sword and accusing me of murder. Again.”
If I wasn’t certain he was incapable of such an emotion, I might have believed I saw a hint of guilt behind the Prince’s frozen stare.
I grabbed my things and motioned for him to put out the fire. With a flick of his wrist, a dark fog formed around the hearth and began to hiss. When the shadows dissolved, only a curl of smoke remained.
I couldn’t help it—I gawked. I’d seen the terrifying violence Descended magic could cause, but to see it tossed around so simply, so casually… I wasn’t sure I would ever get used to it.
“You could do that,” he said, noticing my awe. He nodded his head toward the smoking embers. “If the Crown chose you, the strength of your magic exceeds mine.”
“I don’t have any magic.”
“Still lying to yourself, I see.”
My glare could have incinerated him alive.
“I don’t.”
“Impossible. And you’d be very wise not to say that to anyone at the palace.”
I rolled my eyes and brushed past him, striding outside into the crisp evening air, where a horse was fastened to a nearby tree.
One horse.
Only one horse.
I jerked to a halt. “Absolutely not,” I said, shaking my head. “I am not sharing a horse with you.”
“It’s only a brief ride.”
“Then I’ll walk. Actually, I’m the Crown. You can walk.”
“You’ve taken to authority quickly for someone who swears she doesn’t want it.”
I shot him my nastiest scowl and caught the corner of his mouth twitch upward. Was that—was he—smirking at me?
“You couldn’t have brought two horses?”
“I didn’t expect to need more than one.”
“Because you didn’t think I would come with you, or because you planned to kill me first?”
He walked past me without responding.
The horse was an enormous beast, its back rising nearly a head above me. It had a glossy white coat that gleamed like starlight in the evening darkness, marred only by a tuft of black on its head.
As I admired the beautiful creature, I felt a tug at the hem of my memory. Something about it seemed familiar. But that was impossible—I’d never seen a horse like this before.
Its saddle was predictably ostentatious, embroidered in brightly colored patterns and studded with precious stones throughout. A crimson saddlecloth of quilted silk hung with tassels of miniature pearls, and solid gold stirrups dangled at the sides. Like so many Descended-made objects, it was stunningly beautiful—and impractical to the point of absurd.
I swallowed my mocking comments, if only because I was too busy scoffing at the hand Luther offered to help me mount. With a considerable amount of effort and a mortifying grunt, I managed to heave myself up and over the saddle.
I stiffened as his hand grazed across my hips to grip the saddle’s ivory horn between my open thighs. In one fluid, graceful movement, he mounted and seated himself behind me.
The curve of the saddle forced our bodies to slide together, his muscular thighs pressed tightly to my own. His arms slipped around my waist to reach for the reins, and as he leaned forward, his chin nestled against my temple.
The familiar scent of him overwhelmed me. He should have smelled like wealth. He should have reeked of exotic incense and spices no mortal could ever afford, all the hallmarks of his privileged status.
Instead, his intoxicating musk hinted at cedar, leather, and moss. He smelled like the forest—my favorite place in the world, the only place I felt truly alive.
He smelled like home.
It made me hate him even more.
“You’re shivering.”
“I’m fine.”
His arms tightened around me anyway, and I barely managed to hold back a groan at how nice the searing heat of him felt as it seeped through my soggy clothes.
He nudged the horse into a trot. Our bodies rocked together in a steady rhythm with no chance at putting any distance between us. His hips ground relentlessly against mine, made worse by the way he seemed to pull me closer, closer, closer. I felt every swell of his chest as he breathed, heard every thunderous beat of his heart—racing even faster than my own.
I wondered if he, like me, was plagued with memories of our last interaction: his hands on my waist and my blade at his throat—then his lips on my mouth and my fingers in his hair.
Guilt washed through me as I thought of Henri. Though we’d never been officially courting, his marriage proposal had left no question that he believed we were more than casual lovers. If he knew about that kiss…
Then again, that might be the least of our worries. No one hated the Descended more than Henri. He might drop to his knees and thank the Old Gods for revealing my monstrous nature before he had chained himself to me in marriage.