The Heart of Betrayal (The Remnant Chronicles 2)
“Rafe,” I said firmly.
He sighed and nodded grudgingly. “Tonight in Sanctum Hall, be sure to talk about future plans. What will happen a week from now and a month from now. Ask about the weather, anything so it looks like you expect to be here. It’s not just the Komizar who misses nothing. The Rah
tan, the chievdars, and especially Griz note every word.”
There was a light tap at the door. Our time was up.
“Your shoulder,” I said. “How is it healing?”
“Just a nick. The cook gave me a foul poultice to treat it.” He bent down and lightly kissed the cut on my cheekbone. “Look at us,” he said. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?” But then one kiss led to more, as if he’d forgotten he had to go.
“No one would recognize us,” I answered. “We’re hardly a proper prince and princess anymore.”
He laughed mid-kiss and leaned back to look at me. “You were never a proper princess.” His hands cradled my face, and his smile faded. “But you’re everything I want. Remember that. I love you, Lia. Not a title. And not because a piece of paper says I should. Because I do.”
There was no more time for words or kisses. He grabbed my saddlebag and hurried to the door.
“Wait!” I said. “I have something else to give you.” I went to the chest and took out a small sealed flask of clear liquid. “It’s a little something I lifted in my travels,” I said. “It might buy us more time.” I told him exactly what to do with it.
He grinned. “Not a proper princess at all.” He carefully tucked the flask into my saddlebag and left.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Light flurries of snow began to whirl on the wind, but it wasn’t enough to stop me. I found Griz in the paddock with Eben and the foal.
I jumped up on the railing and down into the paddock.
“What happened here?” Griz asked, clumsily motioning to a place on his own cheek that mirrored mine. His hair flew wild in the wind.
I glared at Griz but didn’t answer, instead turning to Eben. “How’s the training going, Eben?” I asked.
Eben looked at me warily, sensing something was amiss and not just because of my bruised and cut face. “He’s a fast learner,” he answered. “He’ll walk on a lead now.”
Eben rubbed the horse’s muzzle, and the young horse calmed at his touch. Their connection was already evident. The way of Eben, Dihara had called it. There is a knowing between them, a way of trust, mysterious but not magical.… A way that requires a different kind of eye and ear. I reached out and stroked the star on the foal’s head.
Griz shifted impatiently from foot to foot.
“Have you named him yet?” I asked.
Eben hesitated, glancing at Griz.
“Don’t listen to the counsel of fools, Eben.” I pressed my fist just below my ribs. “If you feel it here, then trust it.”
“Spirit,” Eben said quietly. “I gave him the same name.”
Griz’s patience was exhausted, and he motioned toward the rail. “You should be going—”
I lit into him, my voice loud and sharp. “I’ll leave when I’m ready to leave, do you understand?”
“Eben,” Griz said, “leave us alone for a minute. The princess and I—”
“Stay, Eben! You need to hear this too, because who knows what other nonsense these fools have filled your head with.”
I walked up to Griz and poked him in the chest. “Let me make this perfectly clear to you. Though some might seek to make it appear otherwise, I am not a bride to be bartered away to another kingdom, nor a prize of war, nor a mouthpiece for your Komizar. I am not a chip in a card game to be mindlessly tossed into the center of the pot, nor one to be kept in the tight fist of a greedy opponent. I am a player seated at the table alongside everyone else, and from this day forward, I will play my own hand as I see fit. Do you understand me? Because the consequences could be ugly if someone thought otherwise.”
Eben looked at me with mouth agog, but Griz stood there, in all his hulking, menacing mass, looking more like a chastised schoolboy than a fierce warrior. His lips twitched, and he turned to Eben. “Let’s run some circles with Spirit.”
I saw the surprise on Eben’s face that Griz had called his horse by name.