Page 67 of Royal Hunt
His tone was matter of fact, and so self-satisfied my jaw dropped.
I hissed at him. “I am not your wife.”
Laughter from behind me had me whip my head around. Trenton looked worse for wear, still holding an arrogant air despite his heavily bandaged face and the useless arm that hung from a sling. I felt a savage sense of justice knowing it was the same arm that had strangled the prince and princess. He seemed to be managing his own horse just fine with one good arm.
“I don’t know why you insist on a bride that doesn’t want you,” he remarked acidly to Gregory. “Dozens of women back home would willingly—”
“We’ve discussed this,” Gregory bit out, ending his father’s tirade. Trenton shot me a dirty look as if I were the rude one. “Back in the days of the old gods, the northern men would simply take their women.”
I laughed in his face. “Yeah, because we’d kick your asses for your audacity. Any man who could beat us in combat usually won our respect and willingness. You had to trick me and knock me unconscious. What’s that say about your worthiness?”
Trenton snorted beside me. “Gregory, please. Let the fae-lover go back to the castle.”
The world felt like it was tilting all around me. Gregory was keeping me captive, and Trenton was my ally. What was happening?
I glared daggers at Gregory, trying to get the point across. I would be as difficult as possible if he forced the issue.
“No.” Gregory grit his teeth and turned back around, ignoring me. I sent an enraged look to Trenton, who only rolled his eyes and trotted on ahead.
So much for his sudden bout of helpfulness.
I needed a plan. I had a vague idea of where we were based on the looming mountains of the north ahead, but I would wait until we hit the first town to rest to confirm. I was sure if I played nice for a little bit, Gregory would let his guard down and I’d be able to slip away.
I’d take his horse too, just for good measure.
I buried my anger for the rest of the day, silently plotting. Up ahead, I recognized the small village of Rancor, and I took a deep breath to prepare a smile on my face. We weren’t far from the castle, then. But it wasn’t Gregory who extended a hand to help me out of the wagon, and brushed the straw off of my thick, fur-trimmed dress.
It was Trenton.
I cautiously put my hand in his, glancing to where Gregory was moodily bartering with the stable’s owner about prices.
“He knows you’d rather be back at the castle with the half-fae.”
I turned back to Trenton, my eyes narrowed. “Those half-fae saved your life, despite you murdering Ellis’s entire family.”
Trenton scoffed. “They were also the reason the Royal Hunt happened at all. Let’s leave the semantics and bullshit aside. I don’t want you as his wife, siring my grandchildren. You don’t want to be here. I will ensure he gets you a room, and I will take him down for dinner. You will refuse out of anger. That shouldn’t be too hard.”
His face twisted in disdain, but I kept my mouth shut. He wasn’t wrong. Instead of firing back at him, I crossed my arms over my chest.
“When I take him down to dinner, simply walk down the stairs and out the door. I’ll ensure he’s occupied and won’t see you. Take either of our horses. Go back, and never speak of this to anyone.”
“Right,” I agreed, glaring at the ground. “Fine.”
Trenton’s lips tightened into a thin line, but he didn’t say anything further. He grabbed the reins of his horse and went over to Gregory, who was red in the face and looked ready to lay into the stable owner.
Urgh, men.
I straightened the folds of my dress and cloak and walked into the inn intent on standing near the fire until I could feel my toes.
The inn was surprisingly light and welcoming. Large windows at the front looked like they were routinely cleaned. The wooden tables were all even and neat. Fresh herbs and flowers waited on each and in the corners. The scents mixed pleasantly with whatever was being cooked in the back, and my mouth watered. The large hearth built into the wall in the center beckoned.
“Hello there!”
I glanced up at the bar, seeing the immediate reason for the cleanliness. She was young and in a light work dress with her hair kept up in a kerchief. In her hand was a rag, which she dropped in order to rush out from behind the bar and greet me.
“Hi,” I let out, not really wanting to give away much about myself; especially if I was going to mysteriously slip away later.
The woman wiped her hands on her dress. “How many in your party? Would you like to place a dinner order? Complimentary ale for everyone who stays the night.”
