Page 74 of White Horse Black Nights

“Fuck!”

I’m at war with myself. I don’t know what to do with this information, this threat. A soft horse muzzle knocks into me gently. Myst blinks steadily at me, concerned.

I take the horse’s face in my hands, staring into her bottomless eyes.

“I’m fucked, Myst.”

The last remnants of that burned-out shell of my heart crumble into ash. Because I know what I have to do now. Salensa? A fantasy. Why did I ever think I could keep Sabine safe, anyway? That I could make her happy? Hell, even before I’d learned the contents of that letter, I knew I wasn’t good enough for her. I’m a bastard from the streets. I have nothing. I don’t even own my bow—that’s Rian’s. Everything is Rian’s.

And now, she is, too. She has to be. Because I don’t have a choice.

“She’s going to hate me.” I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my forehead against Myst’s. Sabine can’t ever know what’s in that letter. No one can. Which means I’m going to have to lie to the only woman on this earth who I’ve wanted to share absolute honesty with. “I have tomakeher hate me.”

Chapter23

Sabine

I wake languidly, stretching my limbs over the blanket laid out on the cave floor. The waterfall’s steady rush was a balm that had me sleeping better than I can remember. My thighs are sore from so much riding, and the puncture on my foot aches, yet I feel restored. The dream I was having still traipses through my mind. I’m on the beach, gathering seashells as festive music drifts on the air from Salensa’s nearby town center. Big shells, small ones, whole ones, broken ones. They’re all beautiful in their own way. Each time I find one, I run back to add it to the collection Basten grudgingly carries for me in his hands. He acts as grumpy as ever as he tromps through the surf, but the doting amusement in his eyes betrays his joy.

Laying back, I close my eyes and listen to the waterfall, imagining it’s the rush of the Panopis Sea. I wish I had Basten’s senses, if only for a day. When we get to the sea, I want to hear every bubble pop in the ocean surf. Feel every grain of sand scouring my feet. Taste the layers of salt in the water. What will I say to the sea creatures? What will they say to me? Dolphins and fish and octopuses—if octopuses are even real. I know only what I’ve gleaned from overheard snatches of conversations.

“Basten?” I call.

He’s not in the cave; he must have woken early to hunt breakfast. I smooth my hand over the rumpled half of the blanket that still holds a trace of his warmth. A secretive smile breaks across my face as I roll over and feel a soreness between my legs. Pressing a hand to my mouth, I giggle up at the cave’s ceiling.

By the gods, the things we did last night . . .

What I said to Basten was true—I don’t understand how anyone could consider such pleasure sinful. For twelve years, I’ve had the virtues of chastity drilled into me. In Immortal Iyre’s chapters, she’s constantly accosted by male fae who crave her body—Vale and Woudix and Popelin—and even Alyssantha, who wants to train her as a concubine. Iyre dutifully rejects their advances, preferring her needlepoint. I was taught that Iyre was the model for all young noblewomen. What a farce. Who would choose embroidery over sex?

It isn’t until I tug on my chemise, mostly dry and clean of bloodstains, that I notice Myst is gone, too. A hitch catches in my lungs. That’s odd. BastenandMyst gone? He must have ridden her into the forest, but I can’t guess why. Maybe the waterfall drowned out the sound of game, and he had to travel deeper to hunt.

No matter. My stomach growls, but I can wait. Last night’s coals are still warm, so I blow on them until the fire roars again cheerfully. I trail a hand along my neckline, toying with the lace collar. Now that I know that every sinful act in Immortal Alyssantha’s chapters is fair game for humans, I can’t stop fantasizing about Basten and I recreating every contorted position in those illustrations.

If I can bend backward that far . . .

My cheeks start to blaze. I clear my throat, smoothing out the chemise’s wrinkles to give my hands something to do. The chemise may be stiff and secondhand, but at least it covers what it needs to. It occurs to me that I never have to ride naked again. Lord Rian’s cruel game is over. We’ve won, Basten and I, by deciding not to play.

Another hour passes before I finally hear Myst’s hoofbeats. They ride into the cave, a skinned squirrel carcass dangling from Basten’s belt. So much for making Basten walk on his own two feet, I guess. I smile to myself at how the two of them—the two souls I love most—have become friends.

Basten dismounts and crouches in front of the fire to add a few pieces of wood, his dark hair curtaining his face, his body hulking and hunched. His face has fallen into its familiar scowl like the settling of an old house. I roll my eyes fondly.My wolf is so grouchy before he has his breakfast.

I feel giddy as I teasingly throw my arms around his neck and plant a kiss on his stubbly cheek. He stiffens, which only makes me hug him harder. Last night, he touched my body in places I didn’t even know existed. There’s no room this morning for crankiness. We’re about to voyage to the ocean. Every night, we’ll mimic another sinful pleasure from the pages of the Book of the Immortals. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’ve captured true happiness in the palm of my hand.

“Good morning,” I breathe sweetly against his ear.

He gently shrugs out of my embrace so he can attend to the roasting squirrel. For a few minutes, preparing breakfast has all his attention. Finally, he drags in an unsteady breath. “Is your dress dry?”

His voice is hard. He’s determined to be irritable, which pokes a small hole in my good spirits, but I check my dress’s outer layer where I laid it out to dry.

“Yes, mostly. Oh wait, the hem is damp.”

“That will have to do. We need to get moving.”

I can’t put my finger on why Basten would be acting so distant unless it concerns last night. He doesn’t regret it, does he? That’s impossible. No one could regret the way we came together. He certainly seemed to enjoy it last night . . . and again early this morning.

Turning to Myst, I ask in my mind,Where did you two go?

Village, she answers as she chomps grass.Four hills away. He sent a message.

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