Page 47 of The Ballad of the Vampire Prince

There is not a realm in this universe in which I care about what Eyepatch thinks. “Do you always listen to what he tells you?”

She juts her lips and pouts at the challenge. “Alright. Let me get my robe.”

In a few short moments, we secure a pair of rare breed of elven steed with a spiral horn protruding on its head. Humans have another name for them, but the elves call these beautiful horses Noctrals. The creature will travel to any distance its rider desires, as long as the sun is shining.

We ride out of Windhaven’s gate into the field of greenery that seems to stretch all the way to the fae border. I thought the distance will stop this hunger curdling in my gut.

I am a fool.

Her flawless skin flushes in the soft light of day and the wind carries her sweet scent to me. It’s almost like the sun and the breeze are all conspiring with her to fuck with my head.

A mischievous grin spreads across her face as she nudges her Noctral to chase the horizon.

Careless, wild, and free.

This is the real Rhianelle. I like that she bares this hidden part to me.

“Are we there yet?” she suddenly asks, cantering her mount beside mine.

Crap.

I did not think this through.

The Noctrals know I don’t really have a destination in mind. I suppose they took pity on me because they recognize a spirit of their ancestor sacrificed to the Rhunhraefn. They brought us to the edge of Duskwood, lined by leafy green trees. I rub the stallion in between his ears and quietly mutter my gratitude.

“This is it,” I say, dismounting swiftly. “This place is safe and perfect for our training today.”

I move to her side to keep her steed steady. Rhianelle draws one leg over the saddle and lowers herself to the ground gracefully.

Guilt creeps in my damned heart watching her carry the heavy elven long bow behind her back. The girl draws closer to me, eyes bright and eager to learn.

My fucked-up mind comes up with something quickly. “You see that birch tree over there?”

“Yeah?” She nods, squinting her eyes in the direction.

“There’s a hole on the only orange leaf on the third branch. That’s your first target.”

It’s an impossible task, but I need an excuse for dragging her out here in the middle of nowhere.

The girl is quiet for a moment.

The shadow of remorse grows bigger in my chest, twisting and writhing. I shouldn’t have lied to her. Several heartbeatspass and she finally notches the black-feathered arrow on her bow. Her brow wrinkles in concentration.

The bowstring thrums and she releases the arrow. I follow the movement of the shaft as it smoothly passes the narrow hole on the leaf.

Impressive.

“What’s my second target?” Her voice noticeably changes.

“The same,” I challenge.

The girl draws back another nocked arrow. She hits the mark again, splintering the first arrow with her second.

Once might have been pure luck… but twice…

She turns and her gaze locks with mine.

My mouth goes dry and a spidery sort of chill runs down my spine.

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