Page 25 of Settle Down, Princess

But in the here and now, my aim was to distract him and throw him off balance, and so, when the horse jostled us over a bump in the road, I made sure to grind back hard against him as I jolted in the saddle. He tightened his grip on my knife hand while his other hand slapped down on my stomach. It was far lower than was decent, but I wanted him to go further. I wanted him to touch my body with passion, unlike last night when he’d done no more than clinically inspect me. And I felt it, in my bones, that he wanted to go further too, that what he was reacting to went beyond the distracting rub of my rump against his cock. There was something more.

“Again…” His voice was hoarse now, ragged, and that told me much about his response to me. His grip around my waist was tightening, not loosening, despite the horse’s gait settling down. “Again, Jessalyn.” Not princess, nor Pearl; not Your Majesty or Your Highness. Jessalyn. I smiled to myself, resisting his order just to see what he’d do. “Again, Jess. You’ve almost got it.”

Jess… That was a slip up, surely. No one shortened my name, not in my presence, but he… I showed myself an apt pupil then, gripping the knife exactly as he had shown me.

“Good girl. Just like that.”

Oh, gods, that had me shivering. Last night was mostly a haze, but I remembered Arik’s voice coaching me through sucking… I shoved the memory to one side. Instead, I focused on doing as Silas asked, stabbing out in a way that used all the meagre strength in my arm.

For just a moment, all I felt was pleasure at doing something the right way after only a little tuition. It made me feel stronger, prepared to face down any threat I might face.

Exactly how I needed to be if I was to sneak away tonight.

“That’s it!” Silas said, holding me tighter. “Clever girl. It usually takes me days to get the new recruits to learn those strikes.”

“I hope you’ll find I’m a diligent student, Master Silas,” I murmured back. “Did you have other strikes you wished to teach me?”

“Silas.” A brusque voice interrupted us.

Arik didn’t even bother addressing me as he rode back to us. The frown that creased his brow made both me and Silas aware of the way he was currently holding me. His arms loosened, but not by much. Whatever his comrade might feel, the need to keep hold of me seemed to outweigh those concerns.

“Her Majesty has had enough air, I believe.” Arik turned his eyes upward, taking in the dappled light that filtered through the tree canopy. “Wouldn’t want her to burn her pretty little nose.”

“You think my nose pretty?” I said, tapping it with the butt of the knife. “Why thank you, sir knight.”

“Pretty enough to be a thorough distraction.” Arik’s eyes narrowed. “This area of forest can be quite dangerous.” I looked around us, seeing only verdant beauty, and fought the urge to roll my eyes. “I think you should return to your carriage so we might best protect you.”

Protect his men from my wiles, more like. Roan smirked when Silas brought his horse to a stop, but that expression faded to one of intent focus as I unbuttoned the gap in my skirts.

“May I keep this blade, Master Silas?”

“I think I’m going to have to insist you do,” he ground out, taking in the sheath strapped to my thigh. “This thing is near useless.”

The knife my mother gave me was sent flying through the air with a negligent flip of his hand, the handle vibrating when the blade buried itself into the trunk of the nearest tree. I wanted to be able to do that as well, and I wondered what I might do to get Silas to show me, but then I remembered I’d be leaving this contingent behind when night fell. I didn’t bother buttoning up my skirts, feeling the scandalous sensation of cool air playing over my legs as I followed Arik. He stalked past the carriage horses that were tossing their heads and stamping, no doubt ready to get moving again.

“Lass, you—” Creed went to say from where he sat in the driver’s seat, but Arik cut him off, jerking the door open and pulling down the steps. He stabbed a finger inside, his meaning plain.

I shot him a downcast look through my lashes as I climbed back into the carriage before he shut me back inside. Let him think me compliant, mastered by his overweening masculinity. As soon as I was seated again, I pulled the knife free. Once the carriage rocked forward, I aimed at the richly upholstered wall in front of me. The blade bounced off on my first attempt, forcing me to yelp and jerk my legs back as it rebounded to the floor.

When I picked it up, I considered it closely, analysing the memory I had of Silas throwing it, then tried again. My cry of victory was quickly stifled. My throw had queered, resulting in the knife point burying itself in the corner of the carriage, not in the middle where I’d aimed. I decided that practise would be required for me to improve my aim. What else was there for me to do? I plucked the knife free and threw it over and over for the rest of the day.

Arik took in the sight of me with the knife in my hand and the shredded upholstery when we stopped for the evening. Although he said nothing, the tightening of his jaw was more eloquent at expressing his mood than words could ever have been.

“You’ll wash down at the river, with an escort.”

He was barking at me like I was one of his men, not his future queen, but I just smiled.

“And will he wash my back for me? I have trouble reaching. Usually one of my maids would assist, but perhaps Silas—”

“Silas is gathering firewood, as is Creed, until their heads get clear,” he snapped. “And I’ve got better things to do than wash a pampered princess—”

“Queen,” I corrected.

“Empress, imperator, ruler of the known world.” He threw up his hands. “Roan has shown himself sensible enough to watch you and not be caught in your spell—”

“But not you?” I moved to the doorway, our gazes locked in a silent battle for dominance that would be won or lost when one of us gave way. Arik didn’t want to play this game, because to acknowledge this conflict was to grant me the status of equal combatant. He stepped aside stiffly and let me pass. “Still feeling the effects of roseblood?” I reached up, my former self silently horrified at my brazenness, intending to trail my hand across his chest, but he grabbed my wrist before I could make contact.

“I’m Kheanian. I’ve been fed roseblood in food and drink since the day I became a man.” He dropped my hand. “It’d take more than some dock scrapings and a spoiled little girl to destroy my control.”

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