Page 33 of A Kingdom's Heart
Raven stood with her arms crossed, her dark hair falling over one shoulder. “Took you long enough,” she said.
Eric grinned. “We like to be thorough.”
Elara looked up at me. The sunlight caught in her hair, turning it almost gold. Something about her gaze looked nervous, though she tried to hide it. My chest tightened before I could stop it.
“Did you find anything?” she asked.
I nodded. “Enough to keep the captain interested. Nothing for you to worry about.”
Her brow furrowed slightly, but she didn’t press.
I adjusted the reins and looked toward the sun, already dipping low over the fields. “We’ll ride you both back to the castle first,” I said. “After that, Eric and I will head for Branhollow.”
Elara opened her mouth to protest, but I was already turning
toward Corven. “It’ll be faster that way,” I added.
I mounted, the armor settling against my shoulders with familiar weight. When I looked back, she was still standing beside the horse, the basket clutched tight in her hands.
“Come,” I said quietly, holding out my hand.
She hesitated only a moment before placing hers in mine. Her fingers were cool and small against my palm. The sound of the fields dimmed around us, the world narrowing to that single point of touch.
I lifted her easily. This time, instead of settling her behind me, I guided her in front. Her breath caught, soft but clear in the quiet. She straightened quickly, though I could feel the faint tremor in her back as she steadied herself.
My arm brushed her side as I reached for the reins. Her hair slipped against my arm, light as silk. For a heartbeat, I forgot to breathe.
“Comfortable?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
She nodded. “Yes.”
Corven shifted beneath us, his weight rocking gently from side to side. He waited for a signal, patient but restless. My hand stayed on the reins, the other resting lightly at her waist to steady her.
The faint scent of her hair reached me. It wasn’t the sharp tang of herbs most healers carried. It was softer. Clean. Something floral, like lilac and rain. Too fine for someone who spent her days tending wounds.
I told myself not to notice. Focus on the road. On the fields. On anything but her.
But it was useless. The wind caught her hair and lifted it just enough to brush my chin. My heartbeat stumbled once, hard and quick. Every small movement seemed louder than it should have: The sound of her breath, the rustle of fabric and the warmth of her back against my armored chest.
Corven started forward, and she steadied herself quickly. Her hands gripped the edge of the saddle. I could feel her body relax little by little as the tension left her spine.
The forest opened wider as we rode, the trees spreading apart to let the sunlight fall in thin golden bands across the path. The rhythm of Corven’s steps steadied beneath us, each stride smooth and strong.
The quiet between us was no longer awkward. It felt weighted. As if both of us were holding our breath for reasons neither could admit.
Her scent lingered. The faintest movement of her hair was enough to pull my thoughts apart. I forced my eyes forward, counting Corven’s strides, though it did nothing to steady me.
After a while, her voice broke the silence. “Are we close?”
Her tone was soft, almost hesitant, as if she didn’t want to
disturb the stillness around us.
“Almost,” I said. “You’ll see the gates soon.”
The path curved, and the sound of running water reached us. The same river that wound beneath the castle’s forest edge came into
view, its surface bright in the fading light. Two swings hung from an old tree by the water, the same one Elara sat on earlier. They swayed slightly in the breeze, just enough to move the air around them.
