exhaled a long, slow breath and waited. A whine emanating from the guest barn drew his attention. He followed the noise down the hill to find Mira chained to a hitching post. The agitated Criton had clawed a shallow depression in the ground in an attempt to free herself.
Like a supernova, Carina threw the door open and stood in the doorway, blinding him with her radiance. Her dark eyes scanned the area, absorbing the organized chaos. Her hair draped across her shoulders and framed her face in a sensual beauty. She wore a pair of tan riding pants with a matching long sleeve shirt. Intricate beadwork adorned the top of the blouse while a few short pieces of fringe threaded with beads hung from her shoulders, accentuating her chocolate eyes.
He stepped forward to greet her, but his voice grated across his vocal cords. “Hurry and say your farewells. I want to be at the base of the Arrakans by nightfall.”
“Yes, King Duncan,” she murmured with a slight frown.
As Carina walked toward King McKay, a twinge of guilt pressed at his mind for his harsh tone. He’d been around vindictive women enough to know that Marissa’s claim wasn’t necessarily true. And it was his fault for not inquiring into Carina’s purity—he’d simply assumed she remained untouched. He swore under his breath for allowing Marissa’s words to fester beneath his skin. He’d chosen his path—a path he and Carina would travel together, regardless of the consequences. So, Marissa’s accusations shouldn’t bother him.
He stroked FireStrike’s thick neck, encouraging his restless Criton to stand still amid the milling throng of people and animals as Carina prepared to leave her old life behind. She hugged Regin who patted her awkwardly on the back before she dipped into a small curtsy for Marissa who sniffed and turned her head.
When Carina approached a short, robust servant, the woman pulled her into a huge hug and started crying. Carina moved faster down the line with the other servants until she reached the master trainer. Startled to see him standing there, Marek decided Regin had ordered his presence. But Marek’s amusement vanished when Carina threw her arms around the master trainer’s neck and the man embraced her in return. Marek inhaled sharply at their contact, and with deliberate effort, kept his hands from fisting as Marissa’s words whispered through his mind.
When they stepped apart, the master trainer presented Carina with a wrapped bundle. Even from his vantage point, Marek could tell the deerskin sheath contained a longbow, and from the bulge at one end, a quiver full of arrows. A smaller leather case held what appeared to be a sword. He glanced at Regin, surprised that the king would allow women to train, but smiled at the scowl on the Regin’s face. The master trainer risked much by giving Carina the weapons. Marek’s respect for Carina grew as he wondered what else, aside from riding Critons, she’d kept hidden from her father.
Her eyes were red when she approached him, but she held her head high. A spark of pride surged through him at her courage. “Are you ready?”
She nodded. “I just need to get Mira.” She turned for the barn, but Regin stepped forward and held up a hand.
“Wait.”
“Yes, Father?”
Regin hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his gold-threaded, red vest and rocked back on his heels. “Where are you going?”
Marek’s eyes narrowed as the realization hit Carina like she’d been slapped in the face.
“To release Mira,” she whispered.
Marissa snickered and covered her mouth with a gloved hand.
Regin shook his head. “Our arrangement didn’t include Mira. The Criton stays.”
Carina walked over to Regin and reached out to touch him, but paused. Instead, she turned the palm of her hand up and extended her fingers in an appealing gesture. Her voice quavered. “Please, Father. You don’t even think Mira will amount to anything.”
Regin spun and returned to Marissa’s side.
Like a supernova, Carina threw the door open and stood in the doorway, blinding him with her radiance. Her dark eyes scanned the area, absorbing the organized chaos. Her hair draped across her shoulders and framed her face in a sensual beauty. She wore a pair of tan riding pants with a matching long sleeve shirt. Intricate beadwork adorned the top of the blouse while a few short pieces of fringe threaded with beads hung from her shoulders, accentuating her chocolate eyes.
He stepped forward to greet her, but his voice grated across his vocal cords. “Hurry and say your farewells. I want to be at the base of the Arrakans by nightfall.”
“Yes, King Duncan,” she murmured with a slight frown.
As Carina walked toward King McKay, a twinge of guilt pressed at his mind for his harsh tone. He’d been around vindictive women enough to know that Marissa’s claim wasn’t necessarily true. And it was his fault for not inquiring into Carina’s purity—he’d simply assumed she remained untouched. He swore under his breath for allowing Marissa’s words to fester beneath his skin. He’d chosen his path—a path he and Carina would travel together, regardless of the consequences. So, Marissa’s accusations shouldn’t bother him.
He stroked FireStrike’s thick neck, encouraging his restless Criton to stand still amid the milling throng of people and animals as Carina prepared to leave her old life behind. She hugged Regin who patted her awkwardly on the back before she dipped into a small curtsy for Marissa who sniffed and turned her head.
When Carina approached a short, robust servant, the woman pulled her into a huge hug and started crying. Carina moved faster down the line with the other servants until she reached the master trainer. Startled to see him standing there, Marek decided Regin had ordered his presence. But Marek’s amusement vanished when Carina threw her arms around the master trainer’s neck and the man embraced her in return. Marek inhaled sharply at their contact, and with deliberate effort, kept his hands from fisting as Marissa’s words whispered through his mind.
When they stepped apart, the master trainer presented Carina with a wrapped bundle. Even from his vantage point, Marek could tell the deerskin sheath contained a longbow, and from the bulge at one end, a quiver full of arrows. A smaller leather case held what appeared to be a sword. He glanced at Regin, surprised that the king would allow women to train, but smiled at the scowl on the Regin’s face. The master trainer risked much by giving Carina the weapons. Marek’s respect for Carina grew as he wondered what else, aside from riding Critons, she’d kept hidden from her father.
Her eyes were red when she approached him, but she held her head high. A spark of pride surged through him at her courage. “Are you ready?”
She nodded. “I just need to get Mira.” She turned for the barn, but Regin stepped forward and held up a hand.
“Wait.”
“Yes, Father?”
Regin hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his gold-threaded, red vest and rocked back on his heels. “Where are you going?”
Marek’s eyes narrowed as the realization hit Carina like she’d been slapped in the face.
“To release Mira,” she whispered.
Marissa snickered and covered her mouth with a gloved hand.
Regin shook his head. “Our arrangement didn’t include Mira. The Criton stays.”
Carina walked over to Regin and reached out to touch him, but paused. Instead, she turned the palm of her hand up and extended her fingers in an appealing gesture. Her voice quavered. “Please, Father. You don’t even think Mira will amount to anything.”
Regin spun and returned to Marissa’s side.
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