Page 17 of Royal Hunt
I ignored Ellis. His words didn’t matter. He was at my mercy, reliant on me. “For a known womanizer, your manners are atrocious,” I uttered instead.
I felt him stiffen against me, but then he was blessedly silent. Good. He was the ass, not me. The road loomed ahead, just beyond a wooden fence that separated the small patch of woods from the well-worn path. I dug my heels in, pushing Flare faster. She’d need it to clear the hurdle.
Ellis leaned forward, pushing me into the horn of the saddle. “What are you doing? Don’t you see the fence? We can’t—”
Ellis yelped as Flare jumped, clearing the fence with room to spare. We landed roughly on the other side, Ellis shrieking as he nearly bounced out of the saddle. The main road felt smooth and steady under us as we resumed our pace. I grinned like a madwoman, not bothering to turn around and check on him.
“Like I said, she’s a jumper,” I explained. “you can tell by the legs. She—”
I went silent, realizing a man with his wagon on the road was staring at us. I steered us off the main road and into the tree line, out of view. Flare’s speed slowed, and Ellis tried to tug the reins away from me.
“Why are we slowing? Make him go faster!” he hissed.
I elbowed him in the gut, and he let go of the reins. “It’s her, not him. Be more thankful to the women in your life that are doing all the heavy lifting.”
With a snarl, he tried to lean over me again, and I decided I’d had it. I pushed him off the horse and he tumbled, hitting the ground with a dull ‘thud.’
I didn’t care if he was hurt or not. People who abused animals were disgusting. “You’re going to break her legs if she stumbles due to fatigue! Then we’ll have a lame horse!”
Ellis just glared at me from under his dark fringe, surrounded by weeds. He angrily pushed his hair away from his eyes. “Go on, say it. I don’t know anything about horses.”
I rolled my eyes, quickly dismounting. “Well, you don’t. Now, let’s find somewhere to hide so she can rest. A drink and twenty minutes will do wonders.”
We retreated further into the forest and, thankfully, didn’t hear anyone pursuing us. Ellis glanced up at me, a strange emotion in his eyes. After I caught him in the act, he looked away quickly.
“What?” I demanded, swatting a large branch out of the way. “Don’t censor yourself on my account.”
He sighed and stopped. “I’m sorry about the horse. I’m just ... never mind.” He pushed away through the woods, and I resisted the urge to press him further. At least he apologized, which was more than I could say for the other men in my life.
We made it to a small stream, and Ellis practically fell face first into it, using his hands to splash water all over himself. I sighed and led the horse to drink. “I don’t think that—”
My words died in my throat as Ellis shucked off his tunic and proceeded to vigorously scrub it over the rocks. For a moment I froze, just gawking at the sight of him. His skin was pale as snow, delicate purple and blue veins visible around his neck, wrists, and chest. I knew he was muscled from seeing him on the balcony, but in the daytime there was so much more to see. Lithe muscles flexed at me as he beat the fabric, trying to wash out the sweat, wine, and vomit. What in the world did a prince do to get those abs? And rounded biceps, and back muscles that—
I shook my head. Perhaps he did know how to fight. If only he didn’t make himself sick with drink, he might even be skilled at it. I looked away, busying my hands with petting Flare’s sweaty neck.
“You’ll need to do something about that dress. Take it off,” Ellis called to me, not taking his attention away from his tunic.
I bristled. “Excuse me?”
Ellis sank back onto his knees, sighing and turning to face me. Those thighs should be outlawed.
“It looks awful,” he continued, unaware of my perusal. “You might as well paint a sign saying you’re on the run.”
At my appalled expression, he rolled his eyes. “You’re a country bumpkin girl. Don’t I remember seeing breeches underneath your skirts? Your underdress should be plenty thick for this weather.” He turned back toward the gurgling stream, not waiting for my response.
My jaw dropped at his impertinence, and my face flushed beet red at the reminder of our brief tryst on the castle balcony. I was wearing breeches under my dress. Most girls who lived in the country did, simply for practical reasons.
That didn’t assuage my bruised pride or stop me from firing off the first insult I could think of. “Been with enough women in this kingdom that you know all our habits and quirks?”
He didn’t pause from working at a particularly stubborn stain near his collar. “Something like that,” he commented casually, his shoulders tight.
I angrily tied Flare’s reins around a nearby tree and hid behind it. Itwassatisfying to literally tear the dress off, since I’d hated it anyway despite it belonging to my mother. Light colors were not favorable on me. Out in the country estates, we had little use for such frivolous dresses. I typically wore more functional frocks when I was home. My breeches were, unfortunately, not in good shape. A large tear was in the left thigh, likely a souvenir from crawling on my hands and knees in the tunnel. The bottoms were frayed and also peeling, so I ripped off everything below the knees. Oh well. It was better than nothing.
I picked up my dress and flung the soiled silk at Ellis’s back, but he only chuckled and kept working. I unlaced my corset (which I purposefully always wore loose) and threw it at him next. Ellis hissed in pain as the bone frame smacked off the back of his head, and he snatched at it. When he saw what it was, his eyes glanced up at me from underneath his dark lashes. He smirked and held my corset up to his chest.
“It’s still warm.”
I bent down and grabbed the nearest rock, but he got to me first, moving with surprising speed as he wrapped his hand around my wrist with an iron grip and pushed me up against the tree. For a moment neither of us moved, standing properly toe-to-toe with each other while he was stone cold sober for the first time.
