Page 148 of The Throne Seeker
Her eyes widened when she caught sight of the racetrack. It was made up of a wide dirt path, winding and extending formiles, so far that she couldn’t see it all from the ground. In the distance, four tall watchtowers, similar to the wooden bleachers,stood at each checkpoint to give viewers an up-close look—assuming their pockets could afford it.
It was an event unlike any she’d ever seen. Which she supposed wasn’t saying much since she’d hardly seenanythingin her short, sheltered life.
She needed to get out more.
Spectators of all ages eagerly waited for the race to start. Children no older than ten years old stood at the railings, holding up small flags with different colors and symbols she could only assume were the riders’ emblems.
“Where are we supposed to find him?” she asked, squinting upward at the grand bleachers, the majority already filled.
Roman pointed to the very top balconies. “Those are for anyone important. Moretti will be sitting up there with his entourage.”
She gulped, peering up at the hovering balconies as a knot of nerves bundled within her chest.
“Shall we take a look at the sleipnirs first? See where we should place our bets?” Roman teased with a smirk, gesturing to the giant covered stables.
She cringed at the mention of gambling, but nonetheless she followed, curious to see more.
The stables were crowded, primarily filled with men gathered around each stall, observing the creatures. A good number chatted at the back gate, surrounding a wide blackboard hung on the stable’s wall. Numerous numbers and charts were scribbled on it, which she guessed were intended to assist them in deciding on which sleipnir to place their bets.
With her curiosity piqued, she sauntered over to the closest oversized stall.
As soon as she saw the beast, she took an involuntary step back.
It must have been over seven feet tall. She knew they would be big, but nothing like this. Not only did their height overwhelm her, but also their muscled bodies, each one of their eight legs rippling with them. Thissleipnir, in particular, was white, with midnight-blue hair that matched its large eyes.
She gaped at the sleipnir in wonder, knowing full well that a beast like that could kick the door open with one leg, free itself, and flatten every single one of them.
She tore her eyes from the beast, walking down to see the others, all a variety of colors, she discovered. One was red with bright-orange hair, one dark-green with white hair, another purple with a black mane. Some of them bore markings, while others were solid-colored.
There was one sleipnir in particular that only a handful of men bothered to look at. It was pure black, with hair to match. Even its eyes were black as coal—without a doubt, the most intimidating of the bunch. She wondered why no one was betting on such obvious winning potential.
Roman snatched her from the crowd, pulling her between two of the stalls. “There he is,” he whispered, gesturing to one of the gentlemen looking at the black sleipnir.
Felix Moretti was younger than she imagined, likely in his mid-thirties. He had a lean and muscular figure, not as big as Roman or Zareb, but he certainly looked like he could hold his own. His tousled dark-brown hair fell just above his shoulders, framing sharp facial features that boasted a thick, short, well-groomed beard with smooth, light golden-brown skin. Despite his dark traits, he had dazzling light-blue eyes.
It was no wonder women came from far and wide to try to catch his eye.
“He can’t see me with you or else he’ll suspect something’s off,” Roman whispered, tugging at his hood to cover his face. “But I promise I’ll never be far. You’ll never leave my sight. If youneed help or anything goes wrong, don’t hesitate to call out.” He handed her the small pouch of powder.
Rose nicked it, stuffing it into her dress. She reached for her cloak, untying it before letting it slip down off her shoulders, revealing her golden dress. She smoothed her curls, stealing a glance at Roman as she handed him her cloak.
His eyes bulged out of their sockets. “Rose,” he growled, grabbing her arm before she could leave. “What the hell is that?”
She glared at him, irritated at his clear disapproval. “A dress?”
“You in a normal dress would’ve been enough.” His eyes ran up and down her again. “This… this will draw attention.”
“Isn’t that the point?”
His jaw tightened. “If the bastard touches you?—”
“You won’t do anything. Don’t let your temper give us away. I can take care of myself—you know I can. He won’t do anything I can’t handle.”
Roman glared at her so hard and long, she thought he might just drag her back to the manor.
“This was your idea.”
“Don’t remind me,” he said through gritted teeth, finally letting go of her arm. “Just… be careful.”
