Page 12 of A Ring to Claim Her Crown
Liro looked past her, his face paling as he looked upon the edge of the cliff. In an impressive display of nonchalance, he slid himself a few inches away from the precipice before flopping back to the ground with a grunt.
‘Are you okay?’ Minerva breathed, falling down to her knees beside him. His small movements indicated a lack of serious injury, but one could never be sure. She’d been there on the awful day when the stable master’s daughter had been thrown from a temperamental horse. She would never forget the horror of it. Minerva had been by Bea’s side every step of the way as she’d recovered from a serious spinal injury and the event had wound up bonding them as friends for life. Again, she cursed herself for being so petty and impulsive in bringing Liro down such a demanding trail and risking his safety this way.
‘I’m fine.’ He heaved himself up onto his elbows, his muscles straining against the dust-covered sleeves of his jacket. He grimaced as he tried to straighten further.
‘You’re hurt.’ She flattened her hand against his chest to hold him still.
He looked up at her, stormy eyes glowing more green than grey today, obscenely ethereal in the sunlight. Eyes should not be such an unpredictable colour, she reasoned briefly, trying not to focus on the steady heat of his chest rising and falling under her explorative touch. She pressed his ribs slightly, watching his face for signs of pain.
‘Surely the objective of taking me down this path was to allow me to fall to my death?’ he asked, then immediately groaned as she increased the pressure of her touch.
‘I want you gone, not dead.’ She growled. ‘Stop talking for a moment and catch your breath you...you little fool.’ She cursed under her breath, holding his shoulder to force him still. He obeyed, his breaths coming shallow and hard as he lay flat on the ground. She took the opportunity to lift up his shirt to ensure there weren’t any ribs poking out, causing his breathlessness. No protruding bones greeted her, only rock-hard abs.
‘Little...fool?’ he repeated.
She could hear the hint of a smirk in his voice and fought not to laugh, if only to break the terror of the past couple of minutes. ‘I don’t know...it just came out.’
‘I thought that phrase was reserved for waifish heroines in period dramas. Do you think of me as a dainty damsel you’ve had to rescue?’
‘I don’t think of you at all.’ She felt his eyes on her but refused to look at him as she stood up and smacked the dust roughly from her knees. ‘Or at least I didn’t, until you reappeared without any explanation, seemingly hell-bent on derailing my life at every turn.’
A heavy silence fell between them but she refused to apologise when she spoke the truth. Well, not about not thinking of him...of course that part was a bare-faced lie...but the rest of it. She had been on the verge of tears all morning then had been forced to put on her best performance during this ridiculous ride, only to have him bring up the past and question her choices.
She looked over to where his previously spooked mare was gazing peacefully near a tree, and felt a shiver course through her again at how close he’d come to injury. She should offer to help him up, she realised, but her body felt frozen in place. Everything about the past twenty-four hours was just too much.
If only Liro had just left again. If only he had never returned in the first place, like her father had done all those years ago. It was the one gift he’d given them, that clean break. It was far easier to forget someone when you could pretend they didn’t exist. Having Liro here now made her feel as if all of her work in putting herself back together had been for nothing—as if just looking at him made her hurt all over again.
She had made her plans for this week and the months that would follow as she finally stepped into her role as Queen of Arqaleta. She refused to let the reappearance of one insufferable man throw everything off kilter.
His expression became gravely serious. ‘Minerva...when I left...’
‘I have no wish to discuss the past any more,’ she said quickly, feeling a hint of panic creep into her voice. ‘Once some time had passed, I realised that you breaking our betrothal was the best possible outcome for us both. I travelled the world and lived out my dream in a way I never could have if we had been forced into a marriage of convenience.’
‘So you’re done living your dreams, just like that?’ he asked. ‘Do you truly believe that any of these suitors will satisfy you?’
She froze at his cruel words, at how close they came to getting right under her skin. ‘Is this the only reason you came back here? To question my choices?’
‘Maybe I’m just here to try to make amends to someone I hurt. Someone I once considered a friend.’
She shook her head, hurt climbing her throat as she looked down at him where he still lay at her feet. ‘Well, Liro, you’re around fourteen years too late.’
The sound of hooves coming closer from a distance was a welcome distraction from how deep into unwelcome territory their conversation had got. By the time John’s horse appeared from around the bend, Liro had sprung easily up to his feet.
‘Everything all right?’ the Irishman asked, his eyes darting shrewdly between them, as though he feared he’d made a gross miscalculation in trying to show off his horsemanship.
‘The mare became spooked by the drop and threw her rider,’ Minerva replied coolly. ‘Thankfully Señor San Nicolau was not hurt.’
If Liro was surprised at her effort to spare him any embarrassment, he restrained himself from commenting. Instead, he focused on putting on the bravest face to belie the obvious bruising he’d endured from his fall. He walked over to his horse and swung up with only the tiniest groan under his breath, which he quickly disguised with a cough.
Minerva smiled behind the cover of her own stallion’s flank as she pretended to tighten the saddle. For all he had insisted that the prince she’d known was dead and gone, this hint of vulnerability was something he couldn’t help but show. She thought of the first few summers they’d been forced together, when she’d helped him get over his fear of horse riding, and he’d helped her with the remedial schoolwork she had been trying to catch up on for ever. They hadn’t been close friends, but they’d never been enemies.
As they rode back towards the lake to meet up with the others, Minerva couldn’t help but watch Liro closely for any other signs of pain. He remained silent, not speaking another word until he bid them goodbye at the stables and disappeared in the direction of the harbour. Stubborn man, she grumbled to herself as she was once again danced with attention by Jean-Claude and Prince Lorenz.
Prince Oliveiro might have adopted a new name and look, but when it came to hiding himself away without further explanation it seemed he hadn’t changed so much.
Liro did not return for the informal dinner her mother hosted that evening, nor was he present at breakfast the next morning. Minerva resisted the urge to go down to the harbour to see if his ridiculously oversized yacht was still moored there, as a light fog had obstructed her view from her bedroom window the night before. Thankfully she had managed to fall into an exhausted sleep after the previous afternoon’s horse-riding adventure had turned into an impromptu rowing lesson from Prince Lorenz on the lake. She had been surprised by his astute conversation and dry wit, and had vowed to give him an honest chance after his poor first impression.
But still Liro’s voice was in her head far too often, asking her why now? Why the rush? He had got under her skin simply by reappearing in her life and then he had had the audacity to question her as well. His inquisition had only served to reaffirm her effort to get to know each of her three choices of potential husband. They truly were expert choices, showing her that her mother knew her better than she probably even knew herself.
