Page 80 of The Rose in the Shadows

Nessira patted my hand supportively. “Do not fret on this, my Lady. You are not responsible for another’s cruelty.”

“I am.”

She shook her head. “You are not. Blaming yourself will only hurt me more. Stand tall, you inspire me when you do. Today I can use some inspiration.”

I nodded, wiping away my tears, and she stood to begin her tasks for the day. She beckoned Geia to follow her, and I watched as the young girl spun away from me with heated eyes and a grim expression. Nessira might be forgiving of my actions, but it was clear I had betrayed the trust of Geia. That was something I could never forgive myself for.

Part of me wondered what exactly had happened to them as a result of my actions.

Another part of me didn’t want to know.

They filled the bath with warm water and hints of lavender oils, letting me soak a little longer than usual. I dressed in thick cloth pants and a loose tunic made of a delicate material that didn’t irritate my skin. Geia fastened me into high leather boots as Nessira wrapped my hair into braids at the nape of my neck. The heavy woolen cloak draped across the foot of my bed told me we would travel outside the castle, but not even my ladies knew where Clay planned to take me.

As I dressed, anxious thoughts raced through my mind in a rushed fury. My subconscious had to be trying to tell me something through these near-constant nightmares that warned me away from Clay. Were these dreams just a manifestation of our ancestral feud? Was the man in my dreams right in warning me that Clay and I were destined to be at odds regardless of all else?

I didn’t want to believe that. If it were true, then that meant we were nothing more than the product of those who came before us and I didn’t want to–Icouldn’t–believe that Clay was anything like his father. But as much as I refused to believe that in my waking life, my dreams said otherwise. And didn’t those manifestations of my subconscious warrant some consideration?

After all, Clayhadbeen unkind to me when we first met. He’d never shown the kind of psychotic joy in cruelty that his father did, but did that make any of his initial treatment of me excusable? Perhaps my dreams spoke the truth. Maybe that initial hatred we had felt for each other was our blood recognizing the enemy in the other.

But were we then powerless to fight against that? Or were we, as individuals, strong enough to make our own choices despite the animosity between the Gods we descended from?

I was still musing over these thoughts as I walked out of the palace to greet him. My guards were at my side, but none dared to speak. Either they could tell I was lost in my own head or they were worried about breaking protocol after the events of the day before. Whatever their motivation was, I didn’t mind their silence. My nightmares and anxieties had left me in a sour mood, one I would need to snap out of before spending the entirety of my day alone with my prince.

He waited for me by the stables, tending to a white mare who seemed positively enamored by him. She nuzzled him as he brushed through her mane and offered sweet treats from his pockets. He was nearly unrecognizable without his usual finery. But truth be told, as dashing as he was in a crown, I preferred him without all the pomp. Standing alone with the horse, he might have been mistaken for any other stable hand in his leather trousers and simple white tunic. His hair was due for a trim, and he’d skipped his usual shave, but, for once, he looked at ease. He looked happy. A rare sight indeed. And one I committed to memory as I stood staring.

He grinned when he finally turned and saw me, dropping the brush and dusting his hands off.

“Good, they made sure you dressed for riding,” he noted as his eyes scanned over me. With a curt nod, he dismissed the guards, and they didn’t hesitate to take their leave.

“This is Netta,” he announced, waving me towards the mare. “She’s typically very good with strangers, but tends to be a bit stubborn at times. I figured you two would get on famously.”

I rolled my eyes as I extended my palms toward Netta. When she bowed her head, I ran my fingers over her nose and smiled when she huffed appreciatively. We’d be famous friends indeed.

“How long is the ride?” I asked as he disappeared into the stables.

Clay led out a tall stallion that seemed more suited to charge into war than head off on a mid-day ride through the countryside, but he threw himself onto the horse’s back with an ease that suggested they’d been riding partners for some time. After several more quick pets, I followed his lead and hoisted myself upon Netta.

“We’re headed about forty-five minutes south of the castle. Try to keep up.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving me wide mouthed and frozen in surprise as the sound of his laughter enveloped me. I had seen Clay serious. I had seen Clay regal. That, however, was the first time I had ever seen Clay playful.

“C’mon,” I whispered to Netta as I ran my fingers affectionately through her mane. “We can’t let the boys get away with that now, can we?”

She stomped her hoof in agreement, and then we were off.

Netta followed my every command and ran at top speeds to catch up to them and pass them easily. Clay’s horse may have been built for war, but Netta was made tofly. She was just a few wings shy of being a pegasus sent to me directly from the Gods, and she knew it. She didn’t quiver or shake and hardly seemed to tire as I pushed her harder. The wind ripped through my hair, sending tendrils flying behind me, and for the first time since I’d arrived in Athenia, I felt blissfully free.

When I was sure we had made our point, I finally pulled gently on her reins to allow Clay to join us. He grinned suddenly as he reached my side and took the reins from my hands.

“What are you smiling over?”

“That was cheating!” He accused.

“How was that possibly cheating?”

“How is using your magic not cheating?” He shook his head incredulously.

I stiffened, thinking back over our run. “I didn’t use magic.”

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