Chapter Seven
I decided that I now despised mornings.
Penny woke me well before sunrise, shoving a cup beneath my nose while shaking my shoulder. The scent rising from it was thick and sharp, something green and bitter that reminded me unpleasantly, of fresh cut grass left too long in the sun.
“Drink,” she insisted, pressing the cup closer.
“No,” I groaned, dragging the blanket over my face and attempting to shove the offending drink away.
“Elara,” she warned, her patience already thinning. I ignored her, refusing to lift my head.
A moment later the blankets were ripped from me entirely, the chill of dawn air spilling across my skin like icy fingers.
“I will set myself on fire,” I muttered darkly, cracking one eye open to glare at her through a haze of sleep.
“Drink,” she repeated again. There was no escaping the tone in her voice. Penny could command an army if she chose.
So, I drank, not bothering to question what it was. I knew she wouldn't tell me anyway. Penny didn’t answer questions if she didn't want to. It was infuriating, only occasionally did it work to my advantage.
The liquid slid down my throat, thick and unpleasant, clinging together like poorly made gravy. It tasted just as terrible as it smelt. I forced it down without argument, knowing the sooner it was finished the sooner she would leave me alone.
The next hour was spent with Penny braiding my hair far too tightly, tugging at my scalp with a rushed efficiency before dressing me in layered, grey, riding leathers. The clothing fit me well enough, but it made me feel less like a person and more like The King’s property.
Before my brain was fully awake, and able to argue that I did not want to be dressed as Rhael’s pet, I was being pushed out of the door and sent on my way.
The stables were already alive when I arrived.
Grooms hurried between stalls, tightening saddles.
Guards leaned against posts sharpening blades, the scrape of steel against stone ringing through the mid-morning air.
Horses stomped impatiently against the hard ground, their breath fogging in pale clouds.
The place sounded less like a stable and more like a battlefield preparing for war.
Rhael was already there. Waiting.
He stood beside a massive black stallion. The riding leathers on his body were fitted in a way that made it difficult to not notice the strength of his frame. A sword rested across his back, the hilt worn smooth from use. His hair was loosely tied, several strands catching the early light.
He looked irritated, very irritated. His silver eyes snapped towards me the moment I stepped towards him. They narrowed instantly as if my very existence had personally ruined his morning.
“You are late,” he hissed, each word clipped and precise.
“Good morning to you too,” I replied after blinking slowly, still struggling to wake myself up.
“Do not test my patience today. We have far to travel.” His voice remained low, careful not to carry to the surrounding guards, though his hands tightened visibly on the stallion’s reins.
“I am aware,” I muttered. “Penny reminded me roughly eleven times.” It wasn’t an exaggeration, every other sentence she had spoken this morning involved warnings about distance, danger or behaving properly.
“Mount.” Rhael ordered, ignoring my complaints entirely.
“On what horse?” I asked, glancing around the stable yard. I assumed the animal meant for me had simply not been brought out yet.
“You ride with me,” he said simply as he tugged the stallion closer.
“Excuse me?” I asked, staring at him blankly. The words not quite connecting with what he expected from me.
“You will share my horse,” he repeated slowly, as though speaking to someone particularly dense. His hand remained on the reins, waiting for me to comply.
“Why? Do you think I am going to sprint into the woods the moment you blink?” I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest, my eyes narrowed as I waited for him to answer.
Rhael did not answer immediately, although I watched his jaw tense, muscles ticking beneath the bronzed skin. It was a very clear confirmation, which stung more than I had expected.
I had not attempted to escape the court, not once. Even during the endless hours of boredom, leaping from a high window had briefly seemed appealing.
“You wander,” he said finally. “You vanish into rooms you should not enter, and I will not spend this journey chasing you across half my realm.”
His gaze lingered on me for a moment too long. Even irritated, he remained frustratingly handsome. I hated that.
“I am not a stray dog that needs to be leashed,” I snapped. Truthfully, the idea of riding his horse worried me more than the insult upset me. It meant closeness, too much of it. I had learned long ago never to let a master get too close.
Someone behind me. The one position and advantage I never allowed anyone to have over me.
Rhael mounted the stallion in one fluid movement, settling easily into the saddle. The horse barely shifted beneath him, clearly accustomed to its rider.
“You are unpredictable,” he said sharply. “Now. Get. On. The. Horse.” he demanded, seeing my hesitation as nothing more than an act of defiance.
“You don't trust me,” I replied quietly.
“No. I trust no one,” he said without pause.
The blunt honesty should not have caught me off guard, but it did. Fae were meant to be creatures of courts and celebrations, beings who thrived among their own kind. Yet Rhael always stood apart, even now surrounded by his soldiers, he seemed alone.
I knew from rumours that his brother's death had broken something in him, everyone knew it. Though the longer I watched him, the clearer the severity of the fracture became.
“Get up here,” He snapped again, clearly losing patience.
“Say please,” I said, my voice sickly sweet. In truth, it came out sounding dangerously close to flirting, which had not been my intention.
In truth, I was stalling. To climb onto the horse meant sitting directly in front of him, trusting him not to push me from the saddle halfway through the journey.
The memory rose uninvited. I’d been younger, reckless and foolish in my defiance rather than careful. I’d argued with my master’s son, who believed I should bow simply because he demanded it.
Instead, I turned my back and walked away. Not expecting his arm around my throat before I had taken three steps. He’d dragged me backwards against his chest, choking the air from my lungs. At that moment, I was certain I would die.
The alternative had been worse. The master had stopped him, that time. However, there would be several times after that before I was handed back that I would not be so lucky.
The smell of his aftershave had lingered on my skin for days. Sometimes when I felt particularly vulnerable, I could still remember the sensation of those arms tightening around my throat.
“Elara,” Rhael’s sharp voice dragged me back to the present.
“Fine,” I muttered, wiping my damp, sweaty, palms against my riding leathers. “Don’t get your feathers in a twist.”
“Feathers?” He repeated. For the first time that morning, his irritation faltered.
“Well, I haven’t seen your wings, but I assume they have feathers,” I shrugged.
“Impossible human,” he muttered under his breath, but not quietly enough. The word human ached in my chest more than anything else. Not just the word but the way he said it.
“Look,” I said finally. “I don’t like people behind me,” I admitted, knowing I could not stall any longer.
“What?” Rhael’s brows furrowed.
“Someone being behind me, it makes me tense. Much easier to snap someone's neck from that position,” I explained.
“Then I will give you my word,” he said simply. Holding out his hand.
“That you will not snap my neck?” I asked, tilting my head to the side.
“That I will not harm you,” he offered, still holding out his hands.
“At all?” I asked, wanting it to be clear.
“At all. I promise,” he said with a small shrug.
I blinked, taking in his words. Just like that. No argument, no royal speech about kings not making promises to humans. Still stunned, I placed my hand in his. Begrudgingly accepting to ride in front of him.
His grip was warm and strong as he pulled me easily into the saddle, settling me in front of him as if I weighed nothing.
“Good, let’s go,” I said quickly, trying not to think about the heat of him behind me.
Rhael chuckled quietly, knowing I had only spoken to get the last word in, as he squeezed his legs surging the stallion forward.
We rode out through the stable yard and into the open fields of Vaetharyn, heading south-east. Straight for Lycanthyr.
It was only as the guards fell away, that I realised they were never supposed to follow. We were travelling alone.
It was not long before the forest swallowed us, branches arching above our heads, blocking out most of the early morning light. Rhael didn’t speak for miles, it should’ve felt peaceful. It didn’t.
By midday I was considering throwing myself off the horse voluntarily. Given how worried I had been, I’d not expected it to be this boring. In reality, it was painfully dull.
Rhael’s body behind mine radiated heat, more than once I had found myself leaning into the warmth, before forcing myself to sit upright once more. His breath fanned over my neck every time he leant forward, his grip on the reins causing his fingers to brush against my waist.
The darker thoughts came from the way he rode. He moved easily with the horse, his hips shifting in practiced rhythm, riding more like a practiced warrior than a King.
The movement pressed him firmly against my back.
I found myself wondering, horrified, whether I could actually feel the outline of him through the layers of his leathers.
I had spent hours convincing myself it was an impossibility, even for a Fae.
There was no way it was his dick pressing against me.
“We’re close,” Rhael murmured close to my ear, breaking the silence, making me jump.