Page 127 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

But I freeze. I’ve never ridden a horse on my own before.

Panic grips my throat.

There’s no time, I tell myself. It’s now or never.

Taking a deep breath, I think back to when Viridian and I rode into Keuron from High Keep. It feels like it was only yesterday since we were laughing and talking with such ease.

“What is so amusing?” I had asked him. I remember how annoyed I was that he’d been entertained by my frustration.

“You,” he’d replied. Like I was the only person in the world that mattered.

I recall the feel of his chest to my back and let it linger. Holding onto the memory of how close to me he’d been.

How close we can be again.

“All right, Cryssa,” I say, in some effort to motivate myself. “If Viridian can do it, then so can you.”

I think back to that moment and try to picture in my mind how Viridian helped me up. I had my foot in the stirrup, and then he lifted me higher until I was able to swing my leg over.

Now, I put my foot in the stirrup, and move to pull myself up. Like I did then, I find myself stuck there, my skirts bunched between my legs, holding me in place.

I let out a frustrated exhale, my cheeks hot.

Lifting my skirts so they’re out of my way, I lower myself again and launch my body upward.

This time, I’m able to reach the horse’s back. I lean forward, arms trembling as I hold myself there long enough to swing my leg over. With my legs on either side of the horse, I fall into place on the saddle.

“Whew,” I breathe, and wipe away the sweat gathering on my brow with the back of my wrist.

But I’m not out of the woods yet. I may have successfully mounted the horse, but I still don’t know how to ride.

Again, I think back to how Viridian used his legs to apply light pressure when we rode.

Partly to vex me, I know, I think with the hint of a smile playing at my lips. The memory of his thighs around my rear raises a blush to my cheeks.

But maybe, there’s another reason he did that. Maybe, using your legs to apply light pressure is proper horse-riding technique.

I have nothing else to go off. It’s worth a try.

Tightening my calves around the horse’s abdomen, I take the reins and give them a gentle flick. The horse lets out a whinny and shakes its head.

I flick the reins again, harder this time.

Then, the horse moves. I use my legs to urge it forward again, and to my shock and relief, it starts trotting ahead. Commotion echoes in the distance.

I quicken our pace.

As if aware of my growing anxiety, the horse responds, moving from a trot to a gallop. I ride down the streets, jerking the reins to weave left and right to confuse anyone that might be on our trail.

Soon, I emerge from the cluster of buildings and onto empty meadows and farmland. I keep my focus trained ahead, even as I ride farther away from the city.

Farther away from the home I’ve always known.

When I arrived, I was just Cryssa. But when I leave, I’m someone else.

I leave as Cryssa Thurdred Pelleveron Avanos: demi-fae, mate and wife of the Crown Prince. Future High Queen of all Inatia.

Once I’m far enough away, I glance back over my shoulder.

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