Page 8 of White Horse Black Nights

“You fear bandits?”

He flicks a hand like the suggestion is nothing but a gnat in his ear. “Bandits know better than to attack a guard wearing the Valvere crest.”

Right, I think wryly,because the Valvere family pays the bandits’ salaries.

He continues, “We’ll make camp each dusk in a forest or field, and rejoin the road at dawn. It’s too much of a risk to spend nights at inns. Word of the unusual nature of this ride is spreading fast. There are those who might wish to harm Lord Rian and his family by attacking his future bride. Safer to be out in the open.”

“Camp?” I ask hesitantly.

He tosses back his wild mane of hair, pinning me with a derisive look. “I realize you’ve never slept a night beneath the plain sky, my lady. Don’t worry, you won’t wither without a feather mattress and bed warmer.”

I almost laugh. So this is what he thinks of me: that I’m a pampered aristocrat. While it’s true that I’ve never slept without a roof overhead, for the last twelve years, that roof has been leaky and bee-infested.

As for a feather mattress? More like a flour sack stuffed with moldering straw. But there’s no point in disabusing him of his beliefs about me; he can think whatever he likes.

They can have my body, I repeat in my head.My mind is my own.

That incantation has been my guiding principle to get me through my imprisonment in the convent. How fortuitous that it fits with my current reality, too. Previously, it was malicious Sisters beating me daily; now, riding naked is just another form of controlling my body.

At least this way doesn’t leave bruises. Should I thank my future husband?

“There is a chance the bridge will be closed at Middleford,” Wolf continues as we turn the corner at a bakery. Stacked crates block its window, though I glimpse the bakers inside moving around through the cracks. “If that happens, we’ll go west instead, toward Marblenz.”

A black cat noses its way past one of the crates and blinks at me lazily. I tell it about the milk bottles I spotted earlier, encouraging it to knock one over for a drink.

“I’ll purchase food and supplies in the towns we pass through,” Wolf states evenly, “If you must stop to rest, tell me at once. Lord Rian won’t wish you to arrive fatigued.”

“How very considerate,” I mutter.

A door slams from somewhere nearby, making me jump. Myst draws to a stop, and Wolf halts, too, resting a hand on her mane.

She flinches, not liking his touch.

A man steps out of the Lucky Love Tavern and stands by the side of the road. He faces us square on, chin raised defiantly, a mean gleam in his eyes. He pointedly takes his time cocking his head this way and that, getting as much of an eyeful of my naked body as possible.

Annoyance snaps in my chest as I comb my hair into place, trying to hide what he wants to see.

“That’s Thom Wallsor,” I mumble under my breath to Wolf. “The second largest landowner in Bremcote after my father.”

Wolf’s presence changes immediately, crackling with coiled aggression. His hands curl into fists at his side, but he does nothing to stop the man from looking.

“Aren’t you going to protect my modesty?” I prompt cynically.

“No.”

His direct answer still surprises me. “No?”

“I’m tasked with getting you safely into Lord Rian’s hands. He said nothing about your modesty and, in fact, if he worried after it, I doubt he’d command you to ride naked. Every man from here to Duren can fuck you with his eyes for as much as I care.”

I didn’t think much could shock me after what I’ve endured at the convent, but my face goes slack at his crudeness.

Hurt him?Myst asks hopefully.

It’s a nice mental picture to imagine Wolf trampled under her hooves, but I swallow my ire and think,Not yet.

A middle-aged woman sticks her head out of the tavern’s upstairs window, calling down, “Thom Wallsor, turn ‘round your meaty arse and get back inside! We aren’t to look at Lady Sabine. Don’t you go bein’ the one rotten peach in the whole town!”

Thom Wallsor folds his arms petulantly.

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