Page 60 of Vow of the Shadow King

He leaves me at the base of the steps to stride across to the morleth. He pats its scaled neck. The monster snaps at him, sharp teeth just grazing his skin. Vor smacks his muzzle like it’s all in play, and the beast rolls its balefire eyes.

I can’t move. All my courage seems to have melted away at the sight of that second morleth and its saddle. When Vor turns to me, I’m standing where he left me, gripping my crystal and trying to remember how to breathe.

“Don’t be frightened,” he says, his brow pinched with concern. “Here, come. Let me introduce you.” Before I can protest, he takes my hand and leads me right up to the smaller monster. “This is Mur,” he says and strokes its broad, flat cheek, taking care to avoid the barbed spines protruding around the eye socket. “Here, let her sniff you. I swear, she’s gentle as a mothcat.”

“Really?” I grimace. “So, she’s inclined to spring out of nowhere and dig her claws into any exposed flesh?” But I extend my hand and don’t yank it back again when the morleth stretches out her long nose to sniff. She snorts and jerks her head. Smoke coils from her flared nostrils. I retreat two paces only to find Vor’s hand once more firmly planted in support at my back. “I think I’ve upset her.”

“Not at all.” Vor chuckles again, sending another swarm of butterflies careening up through my heart. “Mur is just greedy. She thought you were offering one of these.” He fishes a chunk of what looks like charcoal out of his trouser pocket and hands it to me. “Go on,” he says. “Hold it out. Keep your palm very flat so Mur doesn’t accidentally nibble one of your fingers.”

With those teeth, she’d probably take my finger right off. Determined not to wince and close my eyes, I do as I’m told, offering the treat to the beast. Much to my relief, Mur uses her long, nimble lips to swipe the black lump from my palm and chomps with noisy satisfaction.

“There.” Vor steps away from me. My back feels cold where his hand had been, and I can’t help a dart of resentment when he strokes the beast’s nose. “You’ll be the best of friends before you know it.”

I eye the monster and her black, scaly, spined, vaguely horse-shaped body. “She’s . . . magnificent,” I manage to say.

“I can assist you into the saddle.”

“What?” I turn to Vor, search for some sign of teasing in his face. “You mean for me to ride into the city?”

“You do ride, don’t you?”

“Yes, but . . . buthorses.”

“Mur is much like a horse, I assure you. She’s been gentled from a young age, and I picked her out specially for . . .”

For Ilsevel.He stops himself from saying my sister’s name, from bringing her into this space between us. It doesn’t matter. She’s there all the same. The truth is, Ilsevel would be far better suited to this particular adventure. She loved a challenge almost as much as she loved riding. She would have been delighted with this gift of a monster steed.

“I am not much of a horsewoman,” I admit, dropping my gaze.

“Ah.” Vor is silent a moment, suddenly uncertain. “It’s too far to walk where we are going. I had thought perhaps you would prefer a saddle over a litter.”

He’s not wrong. I vividly remember my arrival in Mythanar, being carried through the streets in that awful, lurching, curtained contraption. Not an experience I care to repeat. But the idea of mounting that morleth is terrifying.

“I would prefer to ride, yes,” I say, and look him boldly in the eye. “But with you. As we’ve done before.”

Vor goes very still. “That might . . .” He stops, turns away, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “That might send the wrong message.”

“A morleth carrying me away in a cloud of smoke and screams is likely to cause more trouble than the sight of the two of us riding together.”

A smile quirks his mouth. He’s considering it. I hold my breath. I want this time together so badly. To be close to him. To rest against his chest, to feel his arms around me. If this is to be our last few hours together, I’d much rather not spend them clinging to a saddle for dear life.

Abruptly, Vor turns and barks orders in troldish to a groom. “What’s happening?” I ask.

He looks down at me, eyes shining. “I’m having Knar’s saddle replaced with one more comfortable for double riding.”

My heart soars so high, it nearly escapes my chest. Soon enough, the fresh saddle is brought, this one with a top pommel for me to grip with my knees, allowing me to perch side-saddle in front of Vor. Once it’s heaved onto Knar’s broad back, Vor lifts me up in his arms. I laugh a little breathlessly as he settles me in place.

A sudden surge of feeling from him shocks me, however. I look down to discover that my slitted skirt has opened all the way to the thigh. Hastily, I pull folds of soft pink fabric over my exposed leg. When I glance at Vor again, he’s not looking at me, but seems intent upon checking the saddle girth. I smile, a small, secret smile. The next few hours are going to be . . . interesting.

Vor mounts, wraps his arms around me, and takes the reins. A feeling of rightness settles over me. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like, riding like this, nestled in front of him. I lean back against his chest and let a sigh escape my lips.

“Are you ready, Princess?” Vor asks, his lips close to my ear.

I close my eyes. “Yes.”

He urges his beast into motion, and we set off on our last adventure together.

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