25. Ride
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Ride
“Iam hurrying,” I mumbled, yanking on the fresh bloomers Eliza brought me. “Why must I rush? Where is Lord Draven?”
Still sluggish from the short bath I took after Eliza had woken me from a dead sleep, I squeezed my eyes tightly together and opened them again, fighting to focus my vision. All because I had been awake a lot of the night. Dawnlight shone through the wall-to-wall panes of Lord Draven’s chamber.
I reached for the dress on the couch in the shade of a burlap sack.
Simple, and a dress one would see on a servant, specifically a redblood servant.
The fabric scratched against my arms as I pulled it on.
Eliza strode behind me to tighten the sashes, winding the ties around toward the front to tie it below my breasts.
This eve, her frock, made of the same material as mine, had no sleeves, and my gaze went to the inside of her elbow. A small dot . . . an old scar.
They were incredibly familiar.
“You have visited Al.”
Her eyes swung up to mine in surprise. A flush crept over her cheeks. He had taken blood from her as well, but why?
She tied the sash too tight until it hindered my breathing. I exhaled harshly. In my time with Al, it had become increasingly clear he was always testing something or other.
It also brought to the forefront why she was here. I had wondered if there was such distaste for redbloods, why she was kept here with her wraithling.
It was because she served a purpose too.
As we all did.
“The Warlord is waiting for you outside the Citadel.” Her lips pinched at the corners with evident disapproval.
I slid my slippers on and padded out of the bedroom, my damp hair swaying over my shoulders as I descended all sets of stairs until I reached the foyer.
I slowed near the exit, a slim light spilling through the cracked door.
No one had escorted me here. I turned in a full circle, searching for anyone that had followed, but there was no one.
The only time I was ever without an escort was when I was in the feeder wing.
“You.”
Lady Drusilla’s voice lashed out like a whip. I whirled. She barreled toward me, the clicking of her heels beating in tandem with my pulse. I straightened my spine, forcing myself to remain still instead of staggering away from her.
She stopped an inch from my face.
This close to her, I could see the darker flecks of blue in her irises.
“I do not know what has gotten into him, but take care with what you do next.” She came even closer to my face. I stiffened my mouth into a thin line. “Remember, I have your wraithling.”
I clenched my teeth, and the audible click echoed, fighting the urge to claw my nails into her eyes. Piper would bring me back here anyway, she had not needed to threaten her.
She lifted her chin, straightening her shoulders, and reached to open the cracked door to wave me through.
“Lady Drusilla,” I said, keeping my voice even. I wouldn’t let her know she had rattled me.
Bright dawnlight speared into my irises, and I walked forward blindly as they focused. A huge equine figure came into view first. The monstrous animal from the stables.
Abrax.
The only horse I had seen in my existence large enough to match the Warlord. A leather satchel hung from the back end of the saddle, and I ignored the tug to look. He had brought the Creation Scripture.
Is he bringing it because he wants me to translate?
Said Warlord stood beside the beast wearing battle leathers. A black tunic showed under the spaulder, and a strap crossed his chest, fastened to the sheath whose pommel rose above his shoulder.
I battled with the urge to press myself against him until he wrapped me in his arms. With a single look at me, he mounted fluidly, settling on the leather of the saddle, and took the reins in one hand.
The thud of approaching hooves neared, and the stable hand navigated the dappled gray horse beside Abrax.
He dismounted, saying, “Here she is, Your Highness.”
Lord Draven looked directly at me.
“Mount.”
“Pardon?” I stuttered. His eyebrows lowered. “I have never ridden, my lord.” My voice trembled.
A thundercloud flashed across his face.
The stable boy gasped in dismay. What had gotten into me? I stood here arguing with the king. Sucking in a lung-expanding breath, I moved to the side, next to the stable hand.
“Hold on to the horn,” he directed, reaching to grip what he was talking about, “and push off the ground with your other foot in the stirrup.”
With that, he stepped back, keeping the reins as I mounted. Or tried to. Very poorly. The dappled gray neighed and pawed at the ground.
I peeked at the stable boy.
“Do not hesitate when mounting,” he directed.
Pushing onto my toes, I gripped the horn and slid my slipper into the stirrup. I could do it. It was only a horse. In truth, I much preferred a carriage . . . I pushed with my other foot and swung my leg.
I screamed, the jostling of the beast sending me sideways. The ground swelled up to meet me, and all I could do was brace for landing.
The front of my dress tightened, and the grip on the sashes of the gown banded into my ribs. Another spinning movement, then my bottom landed on a hard surface. My vision swam, and I struggled to catch my breath within the safety of Lord Draven’s arms.
The gray horse whinnied and shook its head. A palm pressed into my belly, my legs stretched to the side across his thigh. I lifted my eyes to Lord Draven.
“Spread,” he ordered.
I yanked the gown and settled in front of him on the saddle. Unlike the other, this one had no horn, so it allowed me to straddle with ease. I arranged my gown around me to cover my legs, grateful that the layers of fabric stretched enough so only my ankles showed.
Lord Draven clicked his tongue, and Abrax shot forward. I screamed, grabbing fistfuls of the mane while the air whipped my hair back.
“I will fall!” I shouted, but the wind took my words with it.
I was not too sure I heard a sigh. He propped his hand on my belly, tugging me tighter to him. It steadied my swaying about, but I kept my fingers tangled in Abrax’s mane.
I blinked away the tears stinging my eyes from the wind.
Trees on the property sped past as we neared the first gate.
Instead of crossing to the other gated section where it led toward the House of Lords, he took a sharp turn toward the village.
He kept to the outskirts, following the grassy knolls instead of the cobbled steps or pebbled pathways.
The further into the ride, the more relaxed I became, softening against him with a sigh.
It helped numb the stretch between my legs.
I was still sore from taking him under the moonlight, and the ride would only worsen the pinch.
I closed my eyes, tilting my face toward the dawnlight as it became sunlight.
Gingerly, I reclined against him, and his hand at my belly moved in front of me to grab onto the reins. Both arms cradled me within them.
His torso was quite comfortable.
My eyelids grew heavier and my head became too much to hold up. I leaned my head back, and the gallop became a smooth, lulling rhythm.
A sudden jolt ripped me out of my dozing.
I grabbed Lord Draven’s arm, which held me tightly to his chest. I could feel every inch of his body flush against mine. A yawn stretched my mouth, and I rubbed my eyes with my palm. Lying against him had proven much more comfortable than I had anticipated.
Soon the sun would lower, turning it to dusklight.
I moved my weight from one leg to the other to give one side a break. Lord Draven slowed Abrax with a tug on the reins. Nothing but lush trees enveloped the space and became more compact as he guided us down a dirt path covered overhead by foliage.
“Where are we going?” I croaked, sleepiness in my tone.
“To the Eastern border,” he answered.
“What?” I spat, turning my torso to look up at him. “You should have said—”
“I should have?” He raised an eyebrow.
I pursed my lips. “No, my lord.”
“Abrax will get us there by dawnlight.” He patted the thick neck of the horse. Abrax snorted and shook his head with a high-pitch neigh.
I chewed on the inside of my lip. Questions and worries bubbled.
“Why did you bring me?”
“You have work to do,” he said cryptically.
“Work?” I scowled. It was as I thought— “The translation.”
All he did was grunt.
“You said dawnlight,” I started hesitantly. “You cannot ride through the night. Hollows will fill the area.” They tended to burrow underground during light hours while they slumbered.
“Nearing me means their death.” He had the slightest smirk.
“You have an odd sense of humor,” I muttered. I supposed centuries roaming the realm would do that.
His body rubbed against my back with Abrax’s every clopping step. My hunger was becoming too much to ignore. It had been an entire dawnlight rotation without food after I had grown used to the meals prepared for feeders.
Abrax snorted.
“He has been so good,” I praised, leaning forward to rub his mane. He shook his head with a grunt. I had never been terribly fond of horses, but he may change my opinion.
My stomach growled beneath Lord Draven’s steadying palm. He said nothing, only clicked once, and Abrax settled into a smooth canter.
“Will we be pausing for—” High-pitched shouts reverberated through the forest. A whistle ripped through the air, and an arrow pierced the dirt ground an inch in front of Abrax. He reared, snorting.
A second arrow came flying toward me. All I had time to do was scream and close my eyes.
I panted, waiting for the agony. When it did not come, I squinted to find the arrow a hand’s breadth from my eye. Lord Draven squeezed the shaft, and it splintered in his hand, the pieces falling to the ground.