Page 71 of Reaper's Ruin
“Easy for you to say,” I whispered back. “You look like you were born in the saddle.”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I’ve had some experience with riding.”
The hunting party assembled, with Prince Alaric and Princess Ravenna at the front, followed by various nobles. Rhyker and I rode near the middle of the group as we set out from the castle, following a path that wound up into the foothills of the mountain.
As we rode, I noticed two noblemen riding slightly ahead of us, deep in conversation with the queen.
I studied them from behind, noting the way the princess seemed to defer to the one on the left, a tall man with broad shoulders and an air of authority. As if sensing my gaze, he turned slightly in his saddle.
My heart stopped. The world around me blurred at the edges.
Those eyes. I would recognize them anywhere. Cold. Calculating. The last thing I’d seen as life drained from my body.
This was him. The man who had plunged a dagger into my chest. Who had murdered my mother in cold blood. Who had stolen our futures without a moment’s hesitation.
Every muscle in my body went rigid. My lungs forgot how to draw breath. A wave of memories crashed over me—my mother’s scream echoing through our home, the strange symbols glowing on the blade, the clinical detachment in those eyes as he’d driven the dagger deeper.
“Nothing personal,” he’d said, watching the life drain from me.
Hot, violent rage surged through me, followed immediately by a cold, paralyzing fear. I gripped Silverstreak’s reins so tightly my knuckles turned white, fighting the urge to scream or flee or charge forward and knock him from his mount. My entire body trembled with barely controlled emotion.
“Soraya? What is it?” Rhyker’s voice barely penetrated the roaring in my ears.
I couldn’t speak. Could only manage a small jerk of my chin toward my murderer.
Rhyker’s gaze followed mine, and in an instant, understanding darkened his features. I watched as fury transformed his face—his jaw clenching, his eyes hardening to deadly steel. For a moment, raw, murderous intent radiated from him like heat from a flame.
Then, with a control that spoke of centuries of discipline, he masked it behind a lordly veneer of indifference. But his eyes—those storm-gray eyes—held a promise of violence that sent a shiver down my spine.
His hand reached for mine, squeezing once. The touch anchored me, pulled me back from the edge of blind panic or reckless action.
I swallowed back the tears that threatened to spill, forcing myself to breathe evenly. Now wasn’t the time to fall apart. We were close—so close to answers, to understanding, to justice. I needed to pull myself together.
The man’s gaze swept over our group, pausing briefly on me before moving on, no recognition in those cold eyes. Of course not.To him, I had been nothing but a task, a target, an obstacle to be removed.
The other man turned as well, offering a friendly nod. Unlike the one who’d plunged a dagger in my chest, his eyes were kind, his expression genuinely warm.
I sat taller in my saddle, squaring my shoulders. I would not show fear. I would not break. Not now. Not when we were so close.
“Your first time in the high forests, Lady Soraya?” Prince Alaric asked, dropping back to ride beside me, much to Rhyker’s obvious displeasure.
“Yes,” I admitted, figuring this was safe enough. “It’s beautiful.”
“And bountiful,” he added with a smile. “The royal hunt before a coronation is tradition. As King, it is my duty to provide the feast that will feed my people. A symbol that I will care for them during my reign.”
“What are we hunting exactly?” I asked.
“Storm elk,” Lord Destan answered, maneuvering his mount to my other side. “Their meat is considered the finest delicacy in the Storm Court. We’ll serve it at the feast tonight.”
“That is if I can get one,” Alaric said, making a sheepish face. “I’m not the most skilled hunter I’ll admit.”
Wanting to ensure we got to stick close to him and his mother and the man who’d killed me, I quickly offered, “Lord Rhyker is an excellent hunter. I’m sure he’d be happy to stick by you and give you some tips.”
Rhyker didn’t shoot me a look this time as if he understood my intent.
Alaric’s face lit up. “That would be much appreciated, Lord Rhyker. No heir to the throne has come back empty handed, and I’ll take all the help I can get to make sure I’m not the first.”
“My pleasure,” Rhyker answered Alaric, though his eyes remained pinned on my murderer like he could burn a hole straight through the back of his head.
