Crown of Coral and Pearl

“Of the woman king? No.” He shook his head, then gestured ahead of us. “We’re here.”

Talin asked Grig and one of Ceren’s soldiers to wait outside the encampment with Ebb and me, and I was grateful, remembering my uncomfortable encounter with the mercenary at the border. I sat in the shade of an apple tree with Ebb, enjoying the crisp fruit and the chance to stretch my legs.

“I saw you talking with Prince Talin,” Ebb said, tossing an apple core lazily to the side.

“And?” I didn’t bother with pretense anymore. Ebb knew most of my secrets now.

“I’m glad to see you two speaking again. That’s all.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Talin emerged from the tent, and Ebb leaped to her feet, pulling me up with her. “Apologies,” he said as he mounted his stallion. “That took longer than I expected.”

“How did it go?” I asked him as Grig helped me back onto my mare.

“Clifton will lend us his men if it comes to war,” Talin said quietly. “Of course, we’re to concede a large parcel of borderland to him in exchange for the men, but the land is hardly any good to us if Ilara is attacked. We’ll also have to allow more refugees across the border.” His face was serious, but I could tell from his tone that he was pleased with the outcome.

“I’m glad it went well,” I said. “And I’m sorry that Ceren made you come with me. I know you’d much rather be with your father right now.”

“It’s not your fault. I should be grateful Ceren sent me here and not to end another skirmish.” His expression turned wistful. “And I’m afraid I’m not much use to my father now. His fate is in the hands of the gods.”

By the time we arrived at the inn that night, I was more exhausted than I cared to admit to Talin. He hadn’t been lying—the rooms were modest, with two narrow beds and a cracked porcelain ewer and bowl for bathing. I shared a room with Ebb and only saw Talin briefly that evening at dinner.

The inn wasn’t full, but there was a constant stream of people through the dining room, and I found myself staring at the other customers. They were dressed simply in tunics and shifts, but not a single one of them wore mourning clothes. One of the advantages of living in Pirot, I supposed. They were all tanned from laboring in the sun, their faces creased from hard work and from smiling. There was more joy in this one inn than I’d seen in all of New Castle.

Was this what Ceren hadn’t wanted me to see? That life outside of New Castle was far better than inside it?

My sleep that night was the best I’d had since coming to Ilara. I could look outside the window and see the moon and stars. Our lantern was lit by flame instead of moss. And in two days, I would finally get to see Sami. How I would evade Talin and the guards I didn’t know, but I hadn’t come this far to give up now.

We left early the next morning, Talin once again falling in line next to me. It was midmorning by the time he finally spoke.

“You’re a natural, you know.”

I glanced up at him. “What?”

“On a horse. Who knew life on the ocean would prepare you to be a horsewoman?”

I blushed at the unexpected compliment. “I’ve spent many hours balancing on the edge of our family’s boat, much to my mother’s dismay. And our cousins the Galethians are famous for their abilities on horseback.”

“I’ve seen them at the port. It’s incredible how their horses obey them. They don’t even tie them up. Anyone who attempts to steal a Galethian horse will receive a swift kick in the unmentionables. They say the horse can only be ridden by its rider, and that a Galethian horse will protect its master in battle until death.”

“I believe the Galethians don’t consider themselves to be masters of their horses, but rather partners,” I countered.

“And how do you know so much about them? I thought the Varenians had no contact with Galeth.”

“We don’t. But we pick up bits and pieces from the Ilarean traders.” It was a lie, but a small one. Everything I knew about Galeth I’d learned from Sami. “Did your mother ever learn to ride?” I asked.

“No, unfortunately. She was always afraid of horses. She said anything that large belonged in the ocean, not on the land.”

I laughed. “So what did she do for fun? I can’t imagine she loved knitting any more than I do.”

“No, she didn’t. She liked walking, though. She’d walk for miles when she was allowed. For all his faults, my father did love her and granted her a relatively large amount of freedom.”

“Then she was luckier than I am.”

He looked back at Grig and Ebb, who seemed to be getting along just fine together. “Do you think you can manage a little trotting?” he called back to them. “We should try to make up some time. I believe it’s going to rain soon.”

When they both nodded, Talin spurred his horse forward, and the little brown mare followed. I found the trot less difficult to sit now than I had the first time, but it was still my least favorite gait.

“Are you all right?” he asked, sensing my discomfort.

“Something feels off.” I peered over the mare’s shoulder. “Could she be lame?”

“She does look a little sore. She’s newly shod, and she’s not used to such long distances.”

I patted her on the neck and murmured an apology. “What can I do for her?”

“She needs rest, but we still have some distance to cover. I suppose you could join me on Xander, get some weight off her.”

“Your brother wouldn’t like that,” I said, hating that even when I was away from him, Ceren shadowed my thoughts.

Talin smirked, reminding me of that first night we met. “What my brother doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

The last time I had agreed to something against my better judgment—dancing with Talin—I had incurred Ceren’s wrath. But he was right. Ceren wasn’t here. And the thought of being close to Talin again was too tempting to resist.

I glanced back at the guards. “What will we tell them?”

“The truth.” He motioned for Grig to join us. “The mare is sore. Zadie will ride with me for the rest of the afternoon.”

“Yes, Captain.” Grig tied the mare’s reins to his saddle and helped me dismount. When Talin reached down to help me up, I swallowed back my trepidation and took his hand.

“Would you like to sit in front this time?” he asked.

I felt confident on my mare, but Xander was a huge animal with a completely different demeanor. Still, Talin was looking down at me with such confidence that I nodded and let him pull me up.

Once I was seated before him, our torsos touched from seat to shoulders, and I could feel the warmth of him even through his leather armor. As I took up the reins, he wrapped his arms around my waist, and I wondered if I was really as small in his arms as I felt.

“Where are you going, Your Highness?” one of the guards called from behind. “Prince Ceren told us Lady Zadie wasn’t to leave our sight.”

“Then it’s a good thing you aren’t Zadie,” Talin murmured in my ear. My body flushed hot, then cold, at his confirmation that he knew who I was. How long had he known? And was he happy I was Nor, or was he about to punish me in some way?

“We’ll wait for you up ahead,” he shouted to the guards. Then he clicked his tongue and dug his spurs into the stallion’s sides, and we were off. I fell back despite what I thought had been preparation, but Talin’s solid torso was there to support me. Once I got over the initial shock, I managed to sit up straighter and focus on the task at hand.

I felt like I was back in a boat again, riding the rolling waves, and I was so caught up in the sensations—of the horse beneath me, the wind against my face, the pull of the stallion’s head against the reins as he fought to go faster, the solid feel of Talin’s body behind me—that I forgot to be afraid.

“Excellent,” Talin said over my shoulder. “You can give him his head, if you’re ready.”

I nodded and let the reins out a bit through my fingers, and the stallion surged forward again. We were still on the road, but there was something about the sight of the green hills far ahead, the wide blue sky all around us, that gave me the same sense of freedom the horse must be feeling. I loosened my grip on the reins, giving him as much control as I dared, and let him go. Neither of us was free in any real sense, but for a moment, I could almost believe that we were riding away from the dark shadow of the mountain forever.

I imagined Zadie waiting for me, just off the shore, and swimming out to meet her. We wouldn’t need to speak about what had happened in each other’s absence, because the only time that truly mattered was when we were together. It would be as if the time in between had never happened, like a bad dream forgotten when the light of morning warmed our cheeks.