Page 70 of Reaper's Ruin
I swallowed, recalling the cover story Rhyker and I had carefully constructed. “We were without a magical healer in my court for a time, Your Royal Highness. A primitive healer from a nearby human village showed us several emergency procedures to keep people alive until a proper healer could arrive.”
Her eyebrows rose slightly. “How fascinating. I suppose crude methods occasionally have merit, it seems.” She studied me with renewed interest. “What part of the Eastern Reaches do you call home?”
Rhyker had warned me this would happen—direct questions I wouldn’t know how to answer convincingly. Following his advicethat the fae nobles love talking about themselves, I smiled and redirected.
“A small holding near the eastern border, Your Royal Highness. Nothing compared to the splendor of Thunderspire. I’ve heard the royal palace was built by the first Storm King himself. Is it true the central tower can harness lightning from the peak above?”
As predicted, her eyes lit up at the chance to speak about her home. “Indeed it does. Our ancestors built this fortress to capture the power of the eternal storm. The lightning-glass chandeliers you saw in the ballroom? They’re powered by the very lightning that strikes the central spire.”
“Remarkable,” I said, genuinely impressed. “Your home is truly the jewel of Faelora.”
She smiled, clearly pleased by the flattery. “You must join me for tea during your stay. I’d love to hear more about the Eastern Reaches. It’s been decades since I’ve visited.”
I nodded, relieved to have navigated the conversation without revealing my ignorance. “I’d be honored, Your Royal Highness.”
A younger nobleman approached, sweeping into a dramatic bow before me. He had a handsome face with laughing eyes and a roguish smile.
“Lord Destan Nightwind, at your service,” he introduced himself, taking my hand and pressing a kiss to my knuckles.
Rhyker seemed to grow several inches as he watched the interaction silently.
“I must say, Lady Soraya, your entrance to court society has been most dramatic. First saving our prince’s brother, and now joining the royal hunt? You’re the talk of Thunderspire.”
“Careful, Destan,” Prince Alaric laughed. “You’ll scare her away with your forward manner.”
“Never,” Lord Destan replied with a wink directed at me. “I merely appreciate beauty and bravery when I see it.”
I felt rather than saw Rhyker’s displeasure radiating beside me like a physical force.
“Speaking of the hunt,” Alaric said, glancing at the assembled party, “we should mount up. The prey awaits.”
He turned to us, a sudden realization crossing his face. “Do you have mounts? I didn’t think to ask if you brought any.”
“We arrived by carriage,” Rhyker said smoothly. “No mounts.”
Alaric nodded. “Then you must borrow from our stables.” He signaled to a stable master. “Bring Silverstreak and Moonshadow for our guests.”
My heart leaped with excitement even as my stomach knotted with anxiety. I was going to ride a Stormsteed!
Then reality hit. I was going to ride a Stormsteed.
I’d ridden regular horses a few times at summer camp as a kid, but these were magical creatures with wings. What if I fell off? What if it sensed I wasn’t fae?
The stable master returned leading two magnificent Stormsteeds. One was silver with blue-tipped feathers, the other a deep blue-black that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
“Silverstreak for Lady Soraya,” Alaric said, gesturing to the lighter-colored mount. “She has a gentle disposition, perfect for a lady rider.”
I approached cautiously, my hand outstretched. The Stormsteed lowered her head, allowing me to stroke her neck. Her feathers felt like silk beneath my fingers.
Rhyker mounted his Stormsteed with effortless grace, looking as if he’d been born to ride such creatures. The sight of him astride the powerful mount, his body moving in perfect harmony with the creature’s, sent an inappropriate flutter through my chest. How was it possible for someone to look that good doing literally anything?
I turned my attention back to Silverstreak, who was watching me with intelligent silver eyes. I’d need to play it cool, act like Iknew what I was doing. Like I was used to riding magical feathered horse-bird hybrids with wings.
Right. No problem.
With as much confidence as I could muster, I placed my foot in the stirrup and swung myself up into the saddle. To my relief, Silverstreak remained perfectly still, as if sensing my nervousness and compensating for it.
“Well done,” Rhyker murmured as he guided his mount alongside mine. “Just relax and let her do the work. These creatures are intelligent enough to follow the group without much direction.”
