41. Ryewood
Ryewood
The castle appears on the horizon just after midday.
I should feel relieved. We’re almost home, and Gemma’s stronger every day. Finn and Rosie ride ahead, laughing at something Grier said. But my chest tightens with every mile. Nearly a month of her in my arms, no walls, no titles, no pretending. What happens when we ride through those gates?
Gemma shifts against my chest, and I breathe her in. Wildflowers on a sea breeze, threaded with ember-warmth. I’ve memorized the scent of her so thoroughly I could find her in the dark by it.
One of my hands holds the reins, the other rests on her waist, with my thumb tracing slow circles on her hip. I can’t resist. I press my lips to her ear.
“I’m not ready to share you yet.”
She tilts her head, giving me more of her neck, a small surrender. “You’ll manage.”
“Mmm.” I kiss the spot below her ear. “Doubtful.”
Her breath catches, and her fingers trace featherlight circles over my knuckles.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
My blood heats, and I drag my mouth up her neck to the shell of her ear.
“Careful, little fox. I plan to collect. Slowly. Thoroughly. With you underneath me.”
A soft moan escapes her, barely there. And then, so quiet I almost miss it—
“Promise?”
Something snaps in me. I groan, pulling her hard against me, letting her feel exactly what she does to me—
She gasps and stiffens. The sound is wrong; it’s pain, not pleasure.
Her ribs. Stones, her ribs.
I loosen my grip immediately and force myself to breathe.
“I’m okay,” she whispers.
But I heard it, felt her flinch. She’s not healed, not ready yet. And fuck, I want her so badly I can’t see straight. But not like this. I won’t rush this; I won’t hurt her.
“Rye.”
Finn’s voice cuts through the moment. He’s slowed his horse, falling back to ride beside us.
“We’re getting close. We should switch.”
Right. The story.
I nod, pulling our horse to a stop. Grier and Rosie halt ahead, waiting.
If I rode in holding Gemma, my father would see it immediately. The prince, perfectly fine, cradling the injured swordmaster. He’d know she was the reason we stayed so long, and he’d make her pay for it. I can survive his suspicion, but she can’t.
So, we came up with a story. All five of us, over dinner two nights ago.
The blast injured me, too…badly, a head wound that left me dazed for days.
I was too hurt to travel, and Gemma and I were both recovering, which is why it took so long.
It’s a good story. But the kind that only works if no one looks too closely.
Finn will ride in with Gemma. Grier will ride with me, holding me up like I’m still recovering. Rosie will ride ahead to alert the castle and give them time to prepare.
The gates loom larger with every step. My father will be watching. He always is. I need this lie to hold, because if it doesn’t, it’s not me he’ll come for.