“Is this how you flirt with Esme?” I ask, knowing I shouldn’t engage him, but it’s not like that stops me. “If so, I can’t imagine why she’d reject you in favor of your brother. Tel me, Rhys, has she seen this oh-so-charming side of you?”
I wait for his reply, expecting him to get mad, to say something cruel about my looks, my family’s low status and lack of finances, but instead he just laughs, his smile growing wider when he says, “Nah, with Esme, it’s al pomp and show, and nothing but the deepest courtesy and respect. You have to know how to play a girl like her. She’s greedy, superficial, and vain. The only thing she sees in my brother is what’s soon to be mine—the power of his position, and, more importantly, the crown. We’re a lot alike, Esme and I. We were made for each other. We belong together. She and I are twin souls, and someday she’l realize it too.”
I continue to gaze at him, fishing around for some kind of sarcastic reply, but the ones I come up with die right on my lips. What he said is remarkably true. They are shal ow, and vain, and extremely narcissistic—and his ability to realize that truth reveals an amazing amount of self-awareness and insight I never would’ve expected.
“So how long are you planning to stand there like that?” he asks, voice bored, thumbs tapping against the horn of the saddle.
“Why didn’t you bring a carriage?” I ask, stil not wil ing to ride tandem with him, though clearly my options are limited.
Watching as he heaves a deep sigh and springs from his mount until he’s standing before me, a smattering of inches the only thing that separates us.
“Because a carriage attracts far too much notice at this hour,” he says. “Remember, this is supposed to be a secret. Which means I didn’t think you’d want to let your parents in on the fact that you’re eloping—even if it is with the local royalty. But I’m afraid if you insist on continuing to dicker like this, wel , there wil be no need for secrecy as the whole damn vil age wil soon be in on your tryst. So come on, Adelina, what do you say? You stil planning to push against me, or are you ready to submit to the path of least resistance? Be a good girl and hop up—Alrik is waiting.”
I swal ow hard, swal ow my pride, and nod my consent. Bracing against the feel of his hands at my waist as he lifts me up high and gets me al settled, before he hops up himself and warns me to hold on tight or risk tumbling off. Something which he seems to enjoy a little too much—something I do my best not to think about.
We ride for miles. Ride for so long that at one point I al ow sleep to claim me. Awakened by the sound of Rhys’s voice at my ear, soft and surprisingly tender when he says, “Hey, Adelina. You can wake up now. We’re here.”
I rouse myself from his shoulder, brush my hand over my eyes, my hair, and take in my surroundings, try to get a feel for our location, but it’s not one I recognize.
“It’s a hunting lodge,” he says, lips tickling at the very edge of my ear. “It’s our hunting lodge, Alrik’s and mine. And while it’s nowhere near as grand as the palace, I wil say it’s not bad either. I think you’l find it surprisingly comfortable. I know that many, many, many of my conquests have greatly enjoyed themselves here.”
Yep, he’s back to being Rhys again.
“Where is Alrik?” I ask, yanking free of him.
But I’ve barely gotten the words out before a whispered voice says, “I am here.”
He reaches toward me, careful y catching me as I slide from the horse and into his outstretched arms. His body so warm, so comforting, that for a moment his awful brother is al but forgotten, until Alrik breaks away and says, “Brother, thank you. I owe you for this one.”
But Rhys just laughs, turns his horse around, and glances over his shoulder. “Forget it. Your bride for the kingdom—” He shakes his head. “Hate to say it, brother, but I’m afraid it is I who wil owe you once your little honeymoon is over and you realize your fol y. I just hope you’re not foolish enough to try to col ect once you’ve sul ied your bed. And while I wish you much happiness and joy and al that, I’m afraid I must return. My sweet little Sophie surely has my bed nicely heated by now.”
“Stil bedding the chambermaids?” Alrik cal s.
Only to have Rhys reply, “Dairymaid, brother, dairymaid. Try to keep up!”
His horse gal ops off, taking Rhys along with him, as Alrik pul s me toward the lodge, lips brushing my cheek as he says, “I apologize for him. I was hoping he’d spare you from that brand of crudeness, but perhaps that was just foolish on my part. Stil , al that real y matters is that he brought you to me. He did as I asked, and you’ve arrived safely.” He gazes down at me with a face fil ed with so much love and devotion, I swal ow everything I was about to tel him about just how crude his brother real y is, not wanting my words to mar his expression.
“Actual y, I slept through most of the journey, if for no other reason than to tune him out,” I say, finding a compromise that succeeds in making him laugh.
“Then you are not tired? You are not longing for bed?” His eyes glint on mine.
I gaze from him to the stil -darkened night sky, to the door he’s propped open that leads to a rustic yet sumptuous room just beyond.
“Oh, I’m feeling quite rested.” I smile. “But I have no objection to bed.”
seventeen
After an hour or two of giggling, cuddling, and whispering to each other—making grand plans for our new life together, a life that begins tomorrow afternoon, Alrik and I fal to sleep. He stil ful y clothed (minus his boots of course), me stripped of the dress I arrived in, stripped down to the same dressing gown his brother found me in.
Alrik’s arm is tossed around my waist, anchoring me tightly to him. Our bodies conforming, pressed so snugly together I can feel the beat of his heart at my back, the rustle of his breath at my ear. And I’m determined to sink into the feel of it, to push aside any stray worries, any lingering fears, in favor of this moment together. Eager for tomorrow, when our exchange of vows wil al ow us to love each other freely, openly—no longer relegated to vacant horse stal s, or secluded spots in the forest that surrounds my parents’ house. No longer forced to pul ourselves back just when the moment becomes truly heated.
It’s a change I look forward to.
But those are the kinds of thoughts my conscious mind is al too happy to dwel on, the moment I fal unconscious my guard slips and a long list of worries seeps in. Manifesting themselves in the strange language that only dreams speak, immersing me in a bleak and foreign landscape where Alrik is nowhere near and a dark hooded being chases me.
I race through brambles and bushes. I race for my life. Wincing against the sting of sharp thorns that snare at my skin and tear at my clothing—leaving me tattered, battered, bruised, but stil I race on.
Yet, no matter how fast I run, it’s not fast enough.