“What?”
She had been quiet on the morning’s ride. After three nights of camping in the woods, I’d spoiled her with a comfortable sleep in an actual bed at an inn last night. The evening had been spent in the dining hall, talking and drinking with the raucous locals, as well as me having to do my share of shooing off males visiting our table looking to try their luck with her. I’d tried to let her deal with the men as much as possible, but when one had refused to leave, his hand grasping her wrist as he insisted on her joining him at the bar for a drink, I’d helpfully shown him to the inn’s door… with the help of a carefully placed fireball. She’d gone up to our room after that incident and straight to sleep, with a frown on her face.
So far this morning, she’s engaged in little more than the barest of conversation, mostly only to agree when I asked if she wanted to stop for a few minutes to let our horses drink while we stretch our legs.
She throws a stone into the water, watching it sink before she speaks again, her tone casual, but I can sense the strain underneath. “I mean, you’re the crown prince. Surely, it’s expected that you marry soon? And you’re thirty seasons. Shouldn’t there be plans in place? Not to mention you need to provide an heir.”
I shift uncomfortably in my saddle. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Just curious,” she says flatly. “I’m sure there’s someone your father has in mind, right? Someone appropriate. Someone suited to you. Maybe one of the women at the ball the night of the first trial.”
Her words make me want to shake her. “No, there’s no one,” I reply, trying to keep my tone even. I wonder if now would be a good time to mention my deal with my father.
She pauses, and I sense something building, something she’s hesitant to ask. “What about past… relationships? Lovers? One-off flings?”
I clench the reins a little tighter, realising this isn’t just a casual question. “I’ve had relations, yes. Relationships… no,” I say slowly, choosing my words carefully. “Nothing serious.”
It’s not a lie, but I can feel the discomfort rising between us. For some reason, she doesn’t believe me. I can tell from the way her jaw tightens.
“Because they weren’t future queen material?”
I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Eirabella, what are you asking exactly?”
“Just making conversation,” she shrugs nonchalantly. But there’s nothing casual about her words. “What about Julietta?”
The name drops like an anchor between us, and I stiffen, not wanting to have this conversation right now. I try to deflect, turning the question back on her. “What about her?”
She doesn’t take the bait. “You’re not answering my question,” she says pointedly, her eyes flashing as she finally looks at me.
“I don’t want to talk about Julietta,” I say, my voice lower than I intended. “She… it is complicated.”
“Complicated how?” she presses, her tone sharp. “Does she fall into the fling or relations category? Because based on the way she acts, sometimes it seems like you’re very much in a relationship.”
“Eira, it’s not what you think—”
Before I can finish, a rustle in the trees behind us sends every sense in my body into high alert. I don’t have time to respond, only to act. Figures emerge from the shadows—eight, no, maybe more—armed and moving like they know exactly what they’re doing.
“Eira, get back!” I shout, drawing my sword. The air around us ignites with fire, the familiar surge of heat rushing through my veins, creating a barrier between us and the enemy. I step in front of her, but she’s already moving. “When you get a chance… run!” I hiss to her.
“I’m not hiding!” she snaps, and before I can stop her, she’s right beside me, staff raised, ready to fight.
The first attacker, to our left, lunges through the fire directly toward her, and in a fluid motion, Eira twirls her staff in a precise circle. As if controlled by an invisible hand, the man’s blade is deflected, and she takes advantage of his confusion to strike with her staff, knocking him completely off balance and to the forest floor. Swinging her staff against the side of hishead, she knocks him unconscious, and then springs back into her defensive stance beside me. One of his men quickly drags him out of the fire barrier and to safety. I don’t have time to admire Eirabella’s skill as another man charges at me from the side, and I block his attack with my sword, sparks flying as metal meets metal. I twist, summoning a blast of fire that engulfs him, sending him stumbling back, screaming in agony.
But more keep coming.
I parry another strike that appears as if from nowhere, thrusting forward and catching the man in the shoulder. He falls, but two more take his place. One swings for my legs as another lunges at me with a dagger, and I barely manage to shove the first one back, while thrusting my sword into the other, taking a slash across my arm in the chaos. The pain flares, but I push it aside. I can’t afford to be distracted. Not now.
Eira is holding her own, her staff a blur as she deflects blow after blow, using her water magic to throw attackers off balance. I see the determination in her eyes, but I also see the strain. She’s nowhere near burnout yet, but there are a lot of them.
“I’m going to create a diversion, and you run,” I shout over my shoulder, trying to force her back. My fear for her safety is like a tight fist around my chest, squeezing until I can barely breathe. It’s a primal kind of terror, raw and suffocating, the kind that gnaws at the edges of my control and makes every second she refuses to move feel like a lifetime. I can feel my pulse pounding in my throat, my thoughts clouded by the panic of losing her, of watching her get hurt because she won’t leave.
“No!” she yells, her voice sharp with defiance. “I’m not leaving you, Rylan! When are you going to realise that? That I have every right to protect you as you do me. How do you think I’m meant to live with myself if something happens to you?”
Her words hit me hard, but I don’t have time to argue. A flash of steel catches my eye, and I whirl around just in time to block a deadly strike aimed at her. The man’s sword glances off mine, but he recovers quickly, thrusting forward with lethal precision. I push Eira out of the way, taking the blow across my ribs. The pain is immediate, searing, but I grit my teeth and summon a torrent of water, slamming the attacker back into the trees.
“Rylan!” Eira’s voice is filled with panic as she sees the blood running down my side.
“I’m fine!” I shout, even though the pain is nearly blinding.
