being addressed as “Royal Highness” by servants and strangers mildly irked Lilac, but the egotistical son-of-a-bitch didn’t even bother, despite his lesser rank.
He grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. “I have a warm fire and blanket set up not far at all from here. I was thinking perhaps we could head back to the castle at daybreak.”
“That sounds marvelous, Sinclair,” Lilac replied. It was perfect. She would once again have a place to rest her head, and she could sneak away before dawn.
“I brought two of my father’s cavalrymen to aide in your search. They’re back at the camp. I am sure they will be fine with taking a little night stroll to provide us some form of privacy.”
By now, it was all too easy for Lilac to turn a strong grimace into a smile. She merely nodded and allowed Sinclair to lead her around to the left side of the steed. He got up with ease and gripped her hand while she struggled to slide her foot into the leather stirrup. Mounting a horse was something she should have known how to do; all princesses were privy to some degree of equestrian training. Riding was both a sport for the wealthy and a necessity for the working-class. Paimpont was one of the towns that relied so heavily on the majestic beasts—yet she, the future queen, was probably the only person in the kingdom who did not know the first thing about riding. Her parents never wanted more attention drawn to her than necessary by the time she was old enough to learn; of course, that was after the Freya incident, and since her mother insisted Lilac maintain a low profile—why on earth would she be allowed to ride?
A small pang of sadness resonated within her chest as she swung herself over the horse’s back and settled onto the saddle behind Sinclair. She reluctantly wrapped her arms around his torso.
As he gathered the reins and gave the animal a light kick, Lilac couldn’t help but sneak a glance back. All the creatures except Blitzrik were out of sight, likely still sheltering in their patchwork tents. Blitzrik sat on one of the logs near the fire, silently breaking each pastry into seven pieces.
They left the campsite only to arrive at another. The second appeared as a fireball in the middle of the woods, its embers floating high into the night. When they approached, Lilac could have cried with relief. They met no resistance on the short ride, but she almost wished they’d been ambushed by vagabonds or even monsters if it meant not having to listen to Sinclair talk about himself and his need to eradicate all Darklings. The going trend among his favorite stories seemed to include the times he’d rescued beautiful damsels and valiantly denied gratitude sex from them, as he’d wanted to save himself for his one true love.
At this, Lilac barely suppressed a snort.
The only thing she was actually curious about was the white horse they were riding. When she inquired about him using one of her parents’ royal steeds, he puffed his chest out so far she thought he might float away. He explained that once his parents informed him of Lilac’s absence, he rode his own war horse as fast as he could to the castle. There, he told the king and queen he would be gathering the bravest men to search the woods, but no one agreed to participate until the sun rose. He, being the overzealous bastard he was, vowed to take two of his own soldiers into Brocéliande. By Sinclair’s words, King Henri immediately gifted his “future son-in-law” the ivory steed, as if his own brown war horse was suddenly less effective.
Fortunately, Sinclair was so infatuated with hearing his own voice that she only needed to murmur agreeably in response. This gave her time to retreat into her own thoughts. First off, she was starving; the last time she’d eaten anything was a day ago, and she’d need to ration out her remaining portion before Paimpont.
Her belly gurgled with worry. What would her excuse be if Sinclair caught her sneaking off in the morning? There was no way in hell she would return to the castle without first visiting Ophelia.
That was all that really mattered, seeing the witch. She needed to get rid of her Darkling Tongue; it was the only way to win the approval of her people upon inheriting the throne. Sure, the throne was hers, Darkling