Page 9 of The Stolen Princess
Okay, so he knew Rommel’s name, but that didn’t mean he was afriend.
“What are you doing in Rommel’s shed? He doesn’t like people touching his things.” Her voice came out harder this time, and she threw her shoulders back as a rush of confidence came over her.
The man slowly lowered his arms. “I was looking for a tool to get the dirt out of my horse’s shoes.”
“More like looking for a tool to break in!” she scoffed. She kept the gun out in front of her, aimed at him.
“I told you, I’m a friend.” His palms went up higher in a gesture of peace. “Can you put the gun down?”
He didn’t seem threatening. In fact, he was actually quite handsome. He had brown stubble scattered across his face in a groomed sort of way, like the stubble was intentional and not growing out of laziness. His long hair hung down across his forehead but could easily be rolled back with one swipe of his hand like a wave that curled back into the ocean. Myka couldn’t decide if the color of his hair was brown or black, especially since it was wet.
Could she ask him?
Since I’m holding you at gunpoint, would you care to tell me the exact color of your hair?
No, she decided.
She couldn’t ask him.
Myka lowered the gun to her side, and his chest collapsed with relief.
“What’s your name?” If he really was a friend of Rommel’s, she might as well get to know him, too.
“Drake. And you are?” he asked, taking a step toward her.
“Mya,” she lied.
Why did I choose something so similar to Myka?
She could never tell him her real name. It was too recognizable.Shewasn’t recognizable. Nobody knew what Princess Mykaleen looked like. How could they when she hadn’t been out of Tolsten House as the princess for the last four years? But her name, that might raise suspicions. “My name is Mya.”
“Mya,” he repeated.
“How come I’ve never heard Rommel talk about you, Drake?”
He raised his shoulders. “How come I’ve never heard him talk about you, Mya?”
Probably because I’m the princess, and I’m not supposed to be outside of Tolsten House.
She raised her chin. “You must not know him that well.”
“Fair enough,” he said. His eyes glanced to the weapon at her side. “Where did you get that gun?”
She swallowed, looking away. Guns weren’t essential. She should’ve thought about that before she whipped hers out. “It’s my father’s. I stole it from him.” Really, it wasn’t that far from the truth.
His brows furrowed, and his lips bent into a frown. “Your father’s?”
Myka straightened. She needed to change the subject. “Why are you here?”
Drake’s sharp gaze traveled between her face and the gun at her side, seemingly unconvinced by her story. But instead of pressing it like Myka thought he would, he folded his arms across his chest, accentuating his muscles. “Am I not allowed to visit my friends?”
She didn’t like how Drake kept referring to them ashisfriends. They wereherfriends—heronlyfriends.
“Well, I’ll tell them you stopped by.” She motioned to his horse with the gun, hoping he would get the hint to leave, but instead, he dropped his arms, taking a step toward her, sending a shot of anxiety through her chest. Was he coming closer?
“Let me see the gun before you hurt somebody,” he said, reaching out to her.
She pulled her arm back, insulted by his insinuation that she didn’t know how to handle a gun.
