Chapter 16
Asta awoke in her bed the next morning, eyes puffy and cheeks tear-stained. She stretched and realized she was still wearing her clothes from the day before, but that was the least of her worries.
She walked over to her bedroom door and cracked it open enough to see that Gyrial was still sleeping on her chaise in front of the fire.
Not only did she feel guilty about kissing him during that night in the alley—even though it was part of their plan—but now she felt worse because she had told him what happened with Kaid.
Asta rubbed her eyes, still unable to process all the events of the night before.
She had wanted him. She couldn’t stand him, but she had still wanted him. How incredibly broken did her mind have to be to let something like that happen?
When she thought of Kaid, she thought of his infuriating charisma—his ability to make light of nearly any situation and never take anything seriously. She saw a man not fit to be a king, not fit to marry her sister.
But that was the problem. There were never any thoughts of a man not fit for her.
Kaid was infuriating, challenging, and often annoying. And yet she didn’t want to go a day without bickering with him.
Asta had spent the whole night crying over a spoiled philanderer, who was also betrothed. To her own sister. To be married in less than a week. How despicable was that?
In determination, Asta dressed in fresh clothes, opting for a thick velvet dress after observing the dark clouds brewing on the horizon. The storm at sea looked to be particularly nasty, the lightning already visible from the coast.
When she exited her room, she gave into the urge and tapped her threshold.
It made her wince, her own ritual becoming a bad memory that she would now have to relive each time she entered a new room.
She had told Kaid of her compulsions, her inability to refrain from them. She had laid herself bare willingly.
Had it all been a game to him? That was the thought that worried her more than anything.
She had played a trick on him on the beach and this was his revenge.
To lure her in, get her to confess her embarrassing secrets, then seduce her and claim control of this dance. What other explanation was there?
She was so damn stupid for falling for it all.
Gyrial was awake by the time Asta was done getting dressed, his expression light and filled with sunshine as always. “Care for a walk before the storm rolls in?”
Gyrial looped his arm with Asta’s as they peacefully walked down the beach, letting her choose when to talk. He always knew what to do to make her feel better, and Asta didn’t deserve him. After everything she had confessed, why was he still being so kind to her?
They had tried once, years ago, to act on those emotions.
Gyrial had done nothing wrong during that time.
He was the perfect gentleman on every date, holding doors for her, giving her his undivided attention, loaning her his cloak when it got too cold.
He was an attentive lover, gentle and sweet.
Everything she had read about in romance novels, Gyrial had done.
But when it came down to it, something was missing for Asta.
Ending the romance between them had not been an easy decision, but her choices were limited.
She could have let it continue until she blew up and ended the relationship terribly, with no chance of reconciling their friendship afterward.
Or, she could have ended things right away, before their relationship developed further, and hoped Gyrial could find it in him to remain her companion.
Though he never spoke of it since, Asta had suspected he remained in love with her. It was why she never spoke to him about romantic interests or dates. Avoidance was her best tactic—one Asta had mastered.
That was, until their plan to confront the courtesan.
Asta had been selfish in insisting that Gyrial pose as her lover instead of Kaid, not thinking of her best friend’s own well-being.
She knew the kiss they shared in the alley that night had hurt him, but he would never complain. He would do anything for her.
Last night was proof of that. Gyrial claimed he was making his rounds and had heard sounds in Asta’s suite late at night and believed it to be an intruder. He had burst in and when he saw Kaid there, he knew exactly what had happened. Or so he thought.
It wasn’t as bad as Gyrial originally believed, Asta had explained to him the night prior. She had stopped it before it escalated. She would never forget the relief that shown in his golden eyes at that. The confirmation of his everlasting feelings for her.
“I’ll be fine,” Asta sighed.
Gyrial smiled at her, his perfect teeth shining despite their cloudy surroundings. He planted a kiss atop her head. “You always are,” he said.
Loud thunder cracked through the air and in front of them, a dapple gray horse reared up on the beach. She could see the shine of the mare’s golden bridle and assumed it was a horse that escaped from the royal stables due to the storm spooking her.
Asta, having grown up in the stables, rushed over to the horse despite Gyrial’s objections as he followed.
She had never seen such a wild horse. The mare was bucking, snapping at the air around her. When she spotted Asta watching her, she charged.
Asta didn’t step back, and didn't display any uneasiness in her posture. She simply held up a hand and let out a demand.
“Stop!” she bellowed at the horse.
The mare stopped charging a whisper away from Asta, ready to rear up, but the princess grabbed the golden bridle.
Asta walked the horse in a few tight circles before lightly stroking down the mare’s face, delighted that she was not head shy. She was definitely from the royal stables, then. The horse’s white mane was unkempt and she needed grooming, but otherwise, she was unharmed.
Gyrial approached Asta and the horse carefully. “Asta, back away from it,” he whispered, his hands held out cautiously as he lightly stepped in their direction.
“It?” Asta snorted. “She’s clearly a horse, Gyrial. She’s just frightened from the storm. She must have ran off from her handler in the stables. What has gotten into you?”
Gyrial shook his head, narrowing his eyes at the mare. The horse was fidgeting, stepping from side-to-side, but no longer showing signs of aggression. “Nothing. Let’s return her to the stables, if that’s where she belongs.”
Asta kept a hold of the horse’s golden bridle as she and Gyrial walked the mare back to the north wing. The horse seemed discontent, her ears slightly turned back, and Asta couldn’t help but notice the little tugs the mare pressed against the bridle.
The princess stopped abruptly and looked into the horse’s brown eyes as she spoke. “I know. I know how it feels to taste the freedom that you can’t have. But Orntali is too dangerous for a wild horse, do you understand? I will come check on you.”
The mare kept her ears back, but didn’t tug against Asta’s hold for the rest of the walk.
When they arrived at the stables, Asta approached the stablehand nearest to her, a young, black-haired girl no older than fifteen.
“I’m here to return this mare,” Asta said, holding the reins out for the girl to grab, “She seems to have escaped.”
The young girl looked the dapple mare up-and-down, circling around her.
She reached a hand up to pet the frost-white mane and the horse side-stepped out of reach, keeping an eye on the girl.
After she gave a long stare at the bridle, she shook her head.
“Not one of ours, Your Highness. No idea what crest is on that bridle, there, but it isn’t the Enrathi family crest.”
Asta looked closer at the bridle and noticed the small crest engraved into a gold coin. It was a conch wrapped in kelp. She had never seen it before.
Frustrated, Asta turned to Gyrial for any type of advice but he only shrugged, his long braids sliding off his shoulders as he did.
Asta looked around at the well-kept stables. “Can we house her here until we know who has misplaced her?”
The girl bowed and took the reins. “Of course, Princess Asta. I will find her a stall.”
The mare tensed, every muscle of her powerful body visible. She turned her head back to Asta.
“Are they turned out daily? Will she stretch her legs?” Asta couldn’t help but ask. She felt like the mare needed to hear the answer, as if she understood.
“Yes, daily, Your Highness. So long as I can find her a herd she tolerates enough to be in her presence.” The girl gestured to the stalls around her, all filled with gorgeously groomed horses.
Even though the dapple gray horse was wildly stunning, Asta could see that it was not the same kind of beauty as the royal herds.
The mare finally allowed the girl to lead her down the hall. Before they left, Asta asked the girl if she could keep the golden bridle with her so she could research the crest that was engraved on it.
On their walk up to the castle, Asta ran a thumb over the cool gold token. She had never seen a crest so plain. She figured it was the symbol of a small coastal village somewhere nearby.
“I wouldn’t go visit that horse, Asta,” Gyrial said. He had hardly spoken a word since they caught the mare on the beach.
Asta’s head whipped toward her friend, her acid irises burning his golden stare. “I’m going to visit her. She trusts me. What is your problem with that horse?”
Gyrial sighed, scrubbing his face with his palm. “She’s wild. I don’t want you getting hurt. And I don’t want anyone in the stables getting hurt, for that matter.” He glanced over his shoulder, back toward the north wing. “Some horses can’t be fully tamed. I can tell she is one of them.”
So Gyrial is some master horse trainer now? Asta had never even seen him interact with one except for when he was on patrol.
“I’m going to see her, and I’m going to make sure she is safe if we don’t find her home.” Asta’s tone was stern and unwavering.
He held up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. But always take someone with you. Preferably myself, if I’m available. But Tova or Liva if I’m not.” His eyes narrowed at her in thought, “You’ve already gone and named her, haven’t you?”
Asta laughed, and could not deny it. “Her name is Thurs.”