Sea of Starlight (The Riven Kingdoms #2) - Shari L. Tapscott Page 0,43

pinning me down, staring at me like she hasn’t the slightest idea how we came to be in this position.

“Are you okay?” she asks, trying to scramble off me.

I hold her in place. “I’m fine. You?”

She blinks her soft brown eyes, looking flustered. “I’m not the one who fell back-first on the rock. You could have broken your spine.”

“I’d like to think it would take a little more than that to break me.” I push back a stray piece of hair that’s fallen across her face, brushing my thumb along her cheek.

Amalia’s expression softens, and she wets her lips. My hold tightens on her as I remember our kiss in the forest.

Before Amalia can act on whatever thought is clouding her eyes, Tryndon clears his throat behind us.

“Uh, captain?” he says, widening his eyes, nodding toward the bottom of the embankment, which the rest of the men are no doubt about to climb. “You…okay?”

Gently clasping Amalia to my chest, I sit up. Once we’re seated, she shifts away, looking as if she wants to crawl into a hole. She fusses with her hair, pushing it behind her shoulders, and wipes dust from her dress.

I cross my arms after I rise, studying her skirt. “You can’t wear that, not out here.”

The princess looks down at her dress after I help her to her feet. “What am I supposed to wear?”

Without asking permission, knowing I won’t receive it, I step forward and unsheathe my dagger. Before Amalia can protest, I grab a handful of the skirt and slice a yard of fabric from the gown.

“RHYS!” Amalia exclaims.

“It’s fine,” I tell her, tearing the fabric now that I have it started. “You have the trousers underneath, and this is a much more manageable length.”

She stares at me with her mouth open, looking like she’s about to slap me. I step back and study my handiwork. It’s not pretty.

But the jagged fabric now falls to mid-thigh, out of the way. Amalia’s trousers, which she herself cut to her knees back at the manor before we left for the Forest of Firelight, peek out from underneath, also ragged.

Tryndon takes the princess by the shoulders, grinning as he makes a show of looking her over. “You wear rags spectacularly well. You look like the most beautiful beggar I’ve seen in my life.”

“Enough,” I tell him, grasping his shoulder and yanking him away.

Amalia turns her scowl on Tryndon, giving me a moment to study her. My brother is right. With her waist-length hair going every which way, and her cheeks and what’s left of her gown smudged with dirt, she looks like a destitute wanderer.

And yet, she’s still lovely.

“What are you smiling about?” she demands, turning those angry eyes back on me—as intimidating as a hissing, sputtering kitten.

The thought reminds me of our conversation in Bayshore, and my smile grows.

“Nothing.” I sheath my dagger. “Let’s continue. We’re wasting daylight.”

Amalia goes ahead, but I grasp hold of Tryndon before he can follow. Quietly, so no one else will hear, I hiss, “No more touching my wife.”

He snorts as he shakes me off. Glancing back at the others, he lowers his voice. “Now you claim her.”

Resisting the urge to cuff the back of his fool head, I roll my eyes and follow him.

The trek across this part of the Chasm is taking too long. Amalia tries to keep up, but she’s slow, unused to this sort of travel. We take frequent breaks, letting the princess catch her breath and shoving water skins in her hands.

I wish I could tell her that it will be easier once we’re across the Chasm, but that would be a lie. I have nothing to dangle in front of her as a reward.

“I’m all right,” she breathes, pushing herself off her rocky perch. She looks dead tired, but we continue, encouraged by the change in the terrain. The land begins to even out, telling me we’re nearing the drop-off.

The constant fog is darker now, more gray than white. The daylight is limited this far down in the crack in the earth. We’ve timed it so we’re in afternoon shadows now, but soon it will grow dark. There are only a few hours of dusky daylight, and I don’t want to miss our window. We’ve crossed in the dark before, and it’s not pleasant.

“We need to hurry,” Lewis says to me under his breath. “It’s almost evening.”

“I think we’re close.”

When I see the growing darkness in the distance, I breathe a sigh of relief. We’ve