Page 103 of Dark Fate

I duck behind the dressing wall, kissing any lingering leather loathing goodbye. It's funny how Whispervale's swanky, ass-kicking gear can turn a skeptic into a devotee. I had to hand it to those talented fae folk—it turns out that knowing your way around a needle and thread or whatever magic they did makes for some seriously sweet battle wear.

I shimmy into the pants, snug but never stifling. Mobility is the new brown, baby; I'm rocking it. Who knew I'd have a love affair with animal hide?

The zipper on my top, coy and unapologetic in its promise, halts with precision, daring all eyes to wander but not too far. The pockets—those clever little thigh-huggers—begging for the kiss of cold steel. I oblige, slipping my daggers in with a delicious snick.

Emerging from my impromptu fortress of solitude, I strut out—daggered, leathered, and dangerously good-looking.

Alina insists on braiding my hair as if the leathers weren't enough to make me feel battle-ready. Her nimble fingers weave through my locks with a deftness that speaks of years of practice. When she's done, my long chestnut tresses cascade down my back in intricate braids, some woven into the crown that looks like a work of art, keeping my hair from my face in a practical and stunning style.

"There," she says, stepping back to admire her handiwork with a critical eye. "Now you're ready."

I turn to look at myself in the mirror and hardly recognize the woman staring back at me. Gone is the uncertain girl who stumbled into this world, replaced by a warrior queen with fire in her eyes and steel in her spine. The braids lend me an air of fierceness, strength, and determination, and I can't help but feel a surge of confidence at the sight.

I give Alina a grateful hug, my arms wrapping around her slender frame. "Thanks, Alina. I don't know what I'd do without you," I murmur, my voice thick with emotion.

She returns the hug with a gentle squeeze, her voice light and teasing. "You'd probably trip over your own hair and fall face-first into trouble," she quips with a wink.

I laugh, the sound bright and carefree. "You're probably right," I admit, shaking my head. "I've never been the most graceful of creatures."

Alina grins. "Well, that's what you have me for," she says warmly. "I'm here to keep you from falling on your face and ensure you look good doing it."

I smile, my heart swelling with gratitude for this unexpected friend, this ally, in a world of uncertainty. "I couldn't ask for a better partner in crime," I tell her sincerely.

She nods, her expression serious for a moment. "I know you have a lot on your shoulders, My Lady. But remember, you're not alone. You have people who care about you and believe in you. We'll be here for you, no matter what."

I feel a lump in my throat at her words. "Thank you, Alina," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. "That means more to me than you know."

She smiles, her eyes shining with warmth. "Anytime, My Lady," she says. "Now, let's get you off before they send out a search party."

With a final glance in the mirror at the warrior reflected there, I nod and head out to face whatever lies ahead, knowing I have allies beside me and a destiny to fulfill.

The stables are a hive of purposeful motion and restless energy, a symphony of snorts and hoofbeats serving as the morning's spirited overture. The air practically tingles with anticipation, charged enough to jolt awake any lingering threads of sleepiness.

I navigate the buzz of activity, weaving through the crowd of horses and handlers until I reach our designated stallion—a creature that could rival any of the Fae realms' legends. With a coat mirroring the midnight shades ofRhyland's locks, he's a sight that demands a pause, a little bit of awe, and maybe even a nod of respect.

"Hey there, big guy," I greet the equine beauty, extending a hand to warm his velvety nose with affection. My fingers gently stroke his soft muzzle, and I'm rewarded with a fond nuzzle. His massive head pushes gently against me, his breath warm and sweet against my skin. I can't help but laugh, pure and delighted, the sound echoing through the stables. "Looks like you're a charmer, huh?"

"Seems like someone's taken a liking to you,"Rhyland's voice rumbles from my left, low and amused.

I glance up to find his beautiful cerulean eyes glinting with amusement, his lips quirking in a half-smile that sends flutters through my stomach. "He's just buttering me up for extra treats," I quip, voice light and teasing.

Rhylandchuckles and steps closer, his body a solid wall of heat and muscle beside me. "He told me he wants ear scratches," he says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me like a physical caress.

"Oh, did he now?" I raise an eyebrow before reaching up to oblige, my fingers finding the soft spot behind his ears and scratching gently. The stallion closes his eyes in bliss, his head drooping in contentment as I continue, clearly loving every second.

"What's his name?" I ask while continuing the ear massage, my voice soft and curious.

"Storm,"Rhylandreplies with a touch of pride, patting the horse's neck with familiarity.

I lean close to Storm's ear and whisper conspiratorially, my breath ruffling his mane. "Take care of me out there, and I'll take care of you," I promise, my voice earnest. The horse nods as if understanding our pact, his ears flicking forward in acknowledgment before he nibbles playfully at my hands.

"Easy there, handsome," I chide between bursts of laughter, my voice breathless with mirth. "Save the sweet moves for the mares."

Rhylandwatches the exchange, a silent, amused sentinel, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his eyes sparkling with warmth and affection. There's that familiar headshake, the one that's all affectionate exasperation, and his smile cuts through any residual morning grumpiness like sunlight through a fog. And damn, if that smile doesn't just ratchet up his allure another ten notches, turning him from devastatingly handsome to absolutely irresistible.

Words? He doesn't bother with them, and why should he? The man oozes assurance from every pore—it's practically a crime how he can convey so much with just a look, a gesture, a quirk of his lips. His silent, smoldering presence is my brand of courage serum.

Rhylandis decked out in his battle leathers, the kind that clings to every muscle like a second skin, molding to his body as if made just for him. The ensemble accentuates his formidable build, highlighting his broad shoulders, the taper of his waist, and the powerful lines of his thighs. But it's his backside that really steals the show, the leather hugging his perfectly sculpted ass like a lover's caress, turning it into a work of art.

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