Page 52 of A Storm in Every Heart
“Isn’t that ironic?” Daemon mutters.
I elbow him in the ribs, and he wisely doesn’t say anything else. Prince Kastian looks between us, but is evidently too polite to ask what we’re talking about.
Kastian smiles at me. “I’ll let you take Sirensong. I suppose I’ll have to join Daemon in rooting for Seahammer.”
I wave him off. “You can still have the white horse. I’m not playing, remember?”
“We could bet with something other than money,” Prince Kastian says, looking sideways at me.
“Careful,” Daemon glares at him. “I don’t care if you’re a prince, respect my sister.”
Kastian’s eyes widen, and he leans back looking alarmed. “You misunderstood, I didn’t mean anything inappropriate.”
Suddenly interested, I lean back to meet the prince’s gaze behind Daemon’s back. “Then what did you have in mind?”
Prince Kastian still looks wary of Daemon’s scowl, but sucks in a deep breath before the casual smile reappears on his face. “How about a secret? If I win, you tell me why you wanted to see the ships.”
My lip curls in a smile. That’s hardly a secret—and if he’d been anyone else, I would have just told him when he asked last night, but I suppose knowing that it’s bothering him is somewhat satisfying.
I hold out my hand for the prince to shake. “Deal.”
Prince Kastian grips my fingers, but instead of shaking my hand he flips my palm over and brushes his lips over the back. I gasp, my breath catching in my throat.
Daemon clears his throat pointedly, and Prince Kastian drops my hand at the exact same moment as the sharp horn sounds over the crowd, signaling the start of the race.
The crowd jumps to its feet as the horses burst forward in a blur, hooves pounding and sending dirt flying into the air. Cheers and bets fill the air, competing with the speed of the horses. I jump up as well, propelled by the excitement around me.
Most Fae seem to be cheering for Triton—the favored horse—but there are a few shouts of encouragement for other names as well.
I spot my pick, the almost-white horse, near the front of the pack with the jockey determinedly hunched low over the saddle. Kastian and Daemon’s choice, Seahammer, is close behind, but it’s so close it’s hard to tell precisely who’s winning.
“I thought you said you didn’t care about racing?” Prince Kastian asks.
“I don’t!” I shout over the noise. “I care about winning.”
“You never told me what you want if you win.”
I tear my eyes from the race and look over at him, startled to realize that he’s right. Now, my mind draws a blank. What do I want?
Before I can think of anything, the cheering around us turns deafening.
The thunderous pounding of hooves finally ceases as the horse race comes to an end, a cloud of dust lingering in the air. My heart races as I whip my head around, eyes darting desperately toward the finish line.
The air around me buzzes with tension as voices rise in a chorus of frustration. I can see the faces of those who had placed their hopes—and money—on the wrong horses. Their brows are furrowed, and fists are clenched, some shaking betting slips in the air as if willing them to change.
“Who won?” I demand.
“You did,” Daemon grumbles darkly.
With a smug smile already forming on my lips, I turn to Prince Kastian only to find him already watching me. He nods at me as if to say, “Your move.”
My heart thumps wildly against my ribs. What does one do with an unspecified favor from a prince?
ODESSA, PRESENT
By the time Elio and I leave the village of Storia and ride halfway to the nearest train station, my compulsion has worn off. He’s completely back to normal, just in time for me to realize that I don’t particularly like him.
He talks over and at me as we ride, droning on and on about the various virtues of Hydratta and how much I’ll like living there. I can’t tell him I have no real intention of marrying the king, but neither do I care to listen to a report on everything from the weather to the recent tax yield. If he was talking about the military, I might find that useful information to bring back to Daemon and Alix, but I can’t imagine they’ll care that a recent cold front has killed off all the radish crops.
