Page 31 of The Prince or the Bard?
I lie there, spent and in pain, for most of an hour, when I hear hoofbeats. With my good arm, I snatch the pearl from the grass, hiding it as best I can beneath my clothes.
A gentle light shines through my tunic. I clamp my hand over it, knowing this is not enough.
“Laoise!” a voice calls. And thank the goddess of the sea, I know its owner.
Too exhausted to sit up completely, I roll onto my side, careful of my arm. Prince Ruairi rides through the grasses, his horse’s nostrils flaring. It looks far better rested than I was at this stage.
Almost rested enough to make the trip back.
“Laoise, are you hurt?” Prince Ruairi slides off the horse, hurrying to my side. He crouches in the dirt beside me, laying his riding gloves upon my shoulders and patting me as though he searches for something.
“It’s just my arm, Your Highness,” I say, wincing when he gets too close to the break. “Don’t trouble yourself over me.”
His brows furrow, but he doesn’t remark upon this, asking only, “Did you find what you were looking for? The essence of the sea?”
I pull the mound from beneath my shirt, revealing the faintly pinkish faerie pearl. Even in the light of the stars and a mere crescent moon, it glows like moondust.
“Laoise, you’re a marvel!” Laughing, Prince Ruairi throws his arms around me, squeezing high on my shoulders.
I almost wish he’d bothered my injured arm. Then it would be easier to get out of this. Instead, I twist my body away, planting my hand on the ground.
I am still not looking at him when he says, “Laoise—I’m sorry, I overstepped. Only I thought—”
“You thought what?” I snap. “There’s no time for what you thought!"
His mouth hangs open. “Laoise. Have these weeks of searching together meant nothing to you? I thought—”
“You have someplace to be,” I interrupt again, already climbing to my wobbly legs. "I'm not going back with you."
“Forgive me. I thought you had warmed to me.”
“Warmed to you? Is that all you can think of—foolish emotions, while the high queen lies on her deathbed?”
He leans back, hurt written all over his face. Why should he be wounded by my rebuke? As a prince, is he simply that used to getting his own way? He needs to get back on his horse,now.
“Laoise,” he begins.
I hold out the pearl. “Take it and go.”
“I’m not leaving you out here alone. You’re injured.”
“Your horse is already tired, and I'd only be added weight. I’m near enough to my grandfather's house. I’ll make it there just fine. Go tend to your queen. I’m sure she’ll know what to do with the pearl. It’ll all work out. Just—stop bothering me andgo.”
For some reason, the prince still doesn’t understand. “My steed needs a moment first, or we won't get very far. Laoise, why don’t you wish to see the queen well again? You were in tears in the hallway.”
I heave out a great sigh, feeling the strain still on my lungs. “This position is trouble, and it’s not as though I can do it with a broken arm.” I point my body in the direction of my grandfather’s village. “Now get going!"
“How can you be like that?”
“Like what?”
“So flippant. Socold.”
“What did you expect? I never wanted this position. My parents were convinced it would be an honor.”
“Laoise,” he says seriously, dropping the pearl into a saddlebag.“I'm not speaking of your position. If you don't plan to return, then you must tell me now. Do you feel anything at all for me?”
My head snaps toward him, every line of my face etched with the sentiment that he’s lost his mind. A swallow seems to catch in his throat.
