Page 7 of The Dark Prince
The Dark Prince shifted behind me into a comfortable position, gathering the reins around my body. I tensed, every muscle of mine clenched in an effort to stay up on my seat, and not bother him by leaning back against his weight.
“Take us home, girl.”
The horse took off under us, my fingers unable to hold on to the horn when she jerked forward so quickly. I fell back against his chest, and clutched onto the first thing my hands found, which were his upper thighs. I glanced up nervously at him, knowing I was being incredibly improper, but too terrified of falling to care.
His head dipped down at me, half of his features obscured by the mask except for his eyes. In my head, though, I imagined he smirked. I wrapped my hands around the horn again, but kept my back relaxed against his chest. It was far more comfortable, and I could brace myself between him and the horn of the saddle.
The horse huffed under us, and I wished the situation would allow me to enjoy my first horseback ride in a decade. I used to love the warmth of the animal beneath me and brushing the coarse hair afterwards. My first pony had been red with white speckles on its rump.
Perron had sold him, too.
We’d just barely got beyond the boundaries of the manor when six men on horseback flanked us in perfect formation. I stiffened against the Dark Prince in fear, my fingernails digging into the leather of the saddle’s horn.
“Do not fear, these are my men. They will protect you with their lives,” he intoned seriously, nodding at each of them.
A handsome man with nut-brown hair trotted up to us, dressed in a simple purple and gold tunic over black leggings and boots. Leather armor protected his chest and forearms, and on top of everything were layers of fluffy brown fur. His face was kind, with blue eyes and a large jaw. The rest were dressed in similar colors, if not in the same regalia.
“Ah, I see you got her then,” the man said with a chipper voice, dipping his head in courtesy and peeking curiously up at me.
The Dark Prince put a hand protectively around my waist and cleared his throat. “Everyone, this is …” He paused, and glanced down at me. “This is Isadora.”
I opened my mouth then closed it, realizing I had nothing to say.
The man at our side snorted. “She looks shell-shocked. What did you do, rush in there and throw her over your shoulder?”
The Dark Prince growled next to me, and my heart raced. Was he going to beat the man for insolence? Curse at him? Demand satisfaction and lop off his head right in front of me?
The Dark Prince did none of these things.
He merely grunted in annoyance, and addressed them all loudly. “This is your new Lady and my soon-to-be wife, Isadora.”
I blushed as all six of them bowed their heads to me.
“Did you at least tell heryourname?” the troublesome knight teased, then fell back as the Dark Prince kicked his horse without answering, and we were off again.
“Don’t mind Maddeus. He’s always been cheeky,” the Dark Prince grumbled.
Was … was that a joke? From the Dark Prince? I relaxed slightly, my muscles easing against his broad chest.
“Whatisyour name, then?” I asked, feeling braver as the manor and its lands grew faint in the distance behind us.
I wanted to believe that the stories about him weren’t true; that they were simply exaggerations, as most stories were wont to be. He couldn’t have missed how I’d flinched when my step-father had raised his hands—I knew he saw it, and then protected me from Perron. He even threatened him! He’d seen Roselle’s beauty and still he chose me. Surely he wasn’t an evil man if he rescued me from my situation when he could have had her.
“I do not wish to grow overly familiar,” he bit out tersely, almost dejected.
My heart sank. What a disappointing thing to hear from your husband-to-be. Perhaps this man wouldn’t beat me physically, but would it matter if his words hit just as hard? I’d never really considered marriage before, since I’d been so consumed with surviving each day at the manor. What thoughts I had given to it certainly didn’t involve the royal executioner and the alleged bastard son of the king.
He won’t mistreat you. It just isn’t a love match. You will live in a castle and have servants instead of being one. What more could you want?
Nothing. That was the correct answer, but it still didn’t stop the sinking sensation in my stomach. It had forced my mother to wed Perron to make ends meet and died in her bedroom alone as I swept the floors downstairs.
I didn’t want a loveless marriage or a transactional one, but it didn’t seem like I had a choice.
Would you rather be back at the manner?
I shivered. No, I wouldn’t. I’d been untouched so far, but every year the visiting lords grew more bold with their eyes, hands, and words. It would only be a matter of time before one of them tried to corner me alone.
No. There was nothing for me back at the manor. I could only move forward.
