Chapter 4 #4
“Because,” Aleksi threw in, “none of you won
the race yesterday. A race honestly won by Princess Sahar without
any help or interference from me, anyone or anything else. Anybody
who suggests otherwise,” he said with a scowl at the Jackal and the
Wolf, “I will break their face. Again.”
He glanced at Sahar, who sat erect and still
as a statue, her eyes glinting like green shards of glass with
golden flares.
“I do not need you or anyone else defending
me,” she said, her voice as brittle as her crystalline glare. “I
can take care of myself.”
“Of course you can,” Yago said smoothly. “The
bastard is attempting to win you over, to claim both you and your
lovely mare.”
Aleksi snorted. “I’m no fool, Prince Worm. I
know a bastard has no claim to a princess.”
“In any other royal family perhaps,” the
Jackal said. “But remember, her father married a slave.”
Sahar drew a sharp breath in and her eyes
blazed. “Who I marry, if I marry, is my concern, and my concern
only.” She razed the entire field of men with her fiery glare. “I
do not need, nor at this point do I want, a husband.”
Aleksi grinned, reveling in the fierceness of
her gaze, remembering the soft, surrendering heat of her kiss.
“What about a man?” he whispered hotly as he rode past her.
“Princess Sahar.” Yago caught her elbow as
she left the dining salon after supper. “If I may, I would ask you
to walk with me in the palace gardens.”
“Now?”
Between the three-league ride and the
constant pressure of the other riders’ scrutiny, the day had been
long and tiring. Sahar had been looking forward to a hot bath and
her soft bed.
“If now is inconvenient for you,” he said,
letting go his hold of her arm with a slight bow, “then I will
gladly wait until a time of your choosing.”
She started to say that perhaps another time
would be better, when she saw Aleksandr scowling at them from the
salon’s doorway. “Now would be fine,” she said instead, placing her
hand on Yago’s proffered forearm and giving Aleksandr her back,
missing neither his deepening scowl nor the Wolf’s smug grin.
They walked hand in arm down the hall and out
into the garden, garnering curious glances along the way, glances
that would soon enough turn to conjecture and gossip. Sahar sighed,
for it was the way of life in a palace, whether one was a servant
or a royal. She peeked sideways at Yago’s patrician profile and
wondered what life had been like for him growing up in his father’s
palace, a man her father had hated for over twenty years, and who
had tried to kill her mother. Twice.
She let go of Yago’s arm and took a seat on
the bench by the lily pond.
“Is there something you wish to speak with me
about privately?” she asked as he sat beside her.
He laid his hand over hers. His palm and
fingertips were smooth and his skin cool, unlike Aleksandr’s
larger, calloused hands, which brought heat to her skin merely
thinking about them. Mistaking her sudden flush, Yago twined his
fingers through hers. She waited to feel the heat spread through
her as it had when Aleksandr touched her, but all she felt was
awkward. Slowly, she pulled her hand from underneath his and folded
it in her lap with her other hand, giving Yago her best impression
of an ingenuous smile.
He stood and faced her, his smile preening as
he clasped his slender hands behind his back. “I know our family
histories should make us enemies,” he said, “but I cannot feel
anything but awe and admiration for you, my lovely Sahar.”
“I, ah, thank you.”
“I am sorry that my words regarding your
victory yesterday were twisted to make you think I was insulting
you, or that I was casting doubt as to the veracity of your win. In
truth, I was only challenging that Steppe bastard over his dirty
tricks, for once he realized that neither of us were going to beat
you, he only sought to ensure that I would not beat him.”
“But you told me I had him to thank for my
victory,” she said. She remembered his exact words since they made
her doubt her victory. Despite her angry denial to Aleksandr, they
had made her doubt herself.
Yago splayed his hands, palms out. “A poor
choice of words, spoken in the heat of the moment by a competitive
man.” He sat down beside her once more. “Will you forgive me them?
If you do not, I shall throw myself into the river and drown my
sorrow.”
She went rigid.
“Oh, oh no.” Yago sat back, a stricken look
on his face. “I have done it again. I have caused you pain when I
have only meant to assure you of my heartfelt affections.” He
placed a hand over hers and patted it. “I am sorry to have reminded
you of your cousin and his tragic death.”
She pulled her hand out from under his. “Do
not worry yourself over it.”
“From what I understand, it was not your
fault. You were only a young girl. You couldn’t’ve possibly been
expected to save him.”
She stood. “So everyone tells me,” she said.
She smiled stiffly. “Rest assured, Prince Yago, you are forgiven
for your earlier statement. I do not consider you my enemy. Now, if
you will excuse me, it’s been a long day, and tomorrow promises to
be the same.”