Chapter 17
17
“ T he Crown Prince wants you to wear these leathers.” Nora held out a pair of stitched pants, and Aven stared at them, confusion skewing her lips into a twisted pout.
“Why?”
“I don’t ask the monarchy to explain their whims. Please, Miss Aven, let’s get you dressed.” Nora stared at her pleadingly.
She’d never get used to having a maid, Aven decided, hauling herself out of bed and lifting her arms over her head, subject to Nora’s whims. Or would it be Prince Cillian’s whims?
Back at home, her own maids had bemoaned her independence, and most of them took up positions with her siblings when she repeatedly dismissed them. Their services were unnecessary and much more appreciated by Geleis or Iona. Aven preferred to do everything herself.
Nora either refused to take the hint or Cillian refused to let her go elsewhere.
Aven still hadn’t decided if Nora was a spy for the prince or not. Eventually, she finished dressing Aven and braided her hair on either side of her head, the strands interwoven with delicate golden threads and twisted into a complicated knot at the nape of her neck. Nora smoothed a stray hair away from Aven’s face, her fingers briefly brushing against the phantom runes still fading with time.
“Have fun today,” she said in farewell.
Aven’s stomach gave an audible grumble at the words, and Nora swallowed over a laugh.
The leathers were a welcome change compared to the flowing dresses she’d been forced to wear. The material warmed against her skin with every step as she took the now-familiar path down to the parlor where she and Cillian had been having breakfast. The only thing on the table when she arrived was a note pointing her in a different direction.
The last thing she wanted was to go on a scavenger hunt.
The morning sun streamed in through the towering windows as she pushed her way out the main door and headed into the garden. The trees opened up, and there stood Cillian, his golden hair burnished by the sun as he finished buckling the buttons of his shirt across his chest.
His face tugged at her. Handsome and carved from stone, his lips set in a smile, he was too handsome for his own good. “You found your way.”
She held the note high and grinned. “Mind explaining what’s going on?”
Cillian snapped his fingers, and two liveried servants stepped out from around the corner of the palace, drawing two horses with them. The first one, a rich chestnut, snorted at the sight of the crown prince, and the other cast a silent eye in her direction, an Appaloosa with dappled spots of white amidst a coat of oaky brown.
“I need to see the village today, and I thought you might like to go with me. A ride never hurt anyone. We’ll have our breakfast afterward.” Without waiting for her agreement, Cillian strode toward the chestnut stallion—no doubt it had to be a stallion; the crown prince wouldn’t be content with a mare—and mounted into the saddle.
His grace and fluidity suggested he’d done this a thousand times before. More.
His eyes focused on her as he took the reins and held the stallion back. The other two men brought the Appaloosa forward and held him out for Aven until she took hold of the bridle.
“Awfully nice of you, considering there is a chance I’ll take off the moment I’m settled on horseback.”
“Why do you think I gave you the slower horse?” Cillian joked.
Aven tugged the Appaloosa closer and took her time getting in the saddle. The stirrups were too long and had to be adjusted to fit her shorter legs, yet the horse remained steady beneath her, tail swatting back and forth.
“You won’t run.” Cillian swung his horse in a circle to face her as she settled.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’m starting to get to know you better, and I believe you actually find my company pleasing.”
His satisfied smirk had her swallowing down a chuckle, one his sensitive fae hearing heard regardless. “You are awfully sure of yourself,” she murmured.
She spurred the horse into motion with a slight click of her tongue. Her pants were tight when she squeezed her legs against the barreled torso of the horse, but she felt much better.
More natural.
Cillian rode like he’d been born to the saddle, and with his attention on the path ahead of them, she had the opportunity to study him. The leathers he wore showed off more muscle than his usual attire, and the light-colored shirt left his forearms bare.
“It pays to be sure when you’re in my position,” he answered at last.
Leading the way out of the garden, gravel crunched underneath the horses’ hooves. Sentries guarding the road watched them as they passed, although neither one of them spoke.
“You’ve never wanted to take me to the village before,” she said in the comfortable silence between them. “Is that a conscious choice?”
She studied him, his creamy skin, his strong profile. As much as she hated to admit it, being with Cillian had started to become easier. Not that she would ever claim to be warming up to him, but he presented as a reasonable enough man. Kind when he did not need to be.
He glanced sideways at her. “Must you always think there is some deep, dark motive for the way I do things?”
“Yes,” she answered tightly.
“Maybe we’ve never gone there because you never asked.” His response was pointed.
Aven took it in stride. “I assumed you didn’t want me knowing the layout of the surrounding area. The palace was safe, as long as there were guards to mark my movements. But the moment I learned about the village…” She purposely trailed off and then clamped her mouth closed.
“You think very highly of yourself and your skills, if you believe you’re such a threat you’d bring down the entire village.” Cillian barked out a laugh.
Her gut twisted at the sound, but she kept her grip on the Appaloosa and her chin tilted high. The farther they walked through the surrounding forest, their horses falling into easy step side by side, the more she saw the decline everyone had been talking about. The magic surrounding the palace must have kept the worst of the blight at bay, but the same changes they’d seen in their own kingdom impacted the land here as well.
The breeze might bring the scent of flowers in full bloom, but it also carried a hint of mold and must, an undertone of decay. The trees grew spindly with black spots dotting their trunks.
“This wasn’t done by weapons.” Aven pointed out the black spots on an oak, and Cillian winced. “What happened?”
“No, they were not. Your weapons seep the magic out of our very skin, and when that happens, the land pays a price. We’re connected to it in a way you don’t understand, as mortals. You are born on the land. We are born from it.”
She mulled it over, her attention fixated on the spots of decay.
“I’ve done my best for Mourningvale. When my father issues an order, I follow it, and only lately has he entrusted me to make the final decisions on our welfare,” Cillian continued. “We were desperate to find a way to win this war, and we have.”
“I’ve done my best as well, and look where it got me.” Aven forced a warm breath to steady her and held it in her lungs to the count of five.
The forest opened up around them, and the road widened. Outside the dimness of the thick trees, fields of crops stretched toward rolling hills she hadn’t seen before.
At this point in the year, the growth should be knee-high or taller. From what she could see, they were struggling to grow and barely reached mid-calf on her own legs. Up ahead, the spire of a cathedral cut into the blue of the sky. Surrounding the white clapboard building were more trees and shrubs as well as a smattering of buildings. Thatched roofs woven expertly were prevalent, although she noted a few roofs of terracotta tiles.
So different from anything she was used to seeing. Her heart constricted, and she stared until her eyes burned.
Her own home had been constructed from stone and brick. There was little left of growing things, and yet she saw what Cillian meant when he said they came from the land themselves. Even their towns sprung up from the dirt, looking an integral part of the natural landscape.
Fences were woven out of living plants, yet the livestock inside were skinny.
She might as well have been back in the human lands for the normalcy of this place.
Together they rode into the center of the village, and those fae on the streets stopped to stare at her.