Page 5 of Pippa of Lauramore
Poor Galinor.
He looks a little nervous.
“There’s a cave about twenty minutes from here,” I say. “It’s spectacular at night. Let’s sneak away, and I’ll take you there.”
“How can a cave be spectacular at night?”
“You just have to see it. I could explain, but it would ruin the surprise.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Princess.”
“Please?” I set my hand over his. “It’s the only chance I’ll get to show you.”
I’m already buzzing with excitement. There’s nothing better than a nighttime ride through the woods.
“King Ewan wouldn’t like it.” Galinor gives me a wry smile that tells me he has a little more sense than I first thought.
“We’ll slip away and be back before the celebration is over. We’ll be gone an hour at the most.”
“Princess—”
“Pippa,” I correct him.
Galinor tilts his head, and moonlight casts shadows on his face. He turns his hand under mine, and our palms meet. My breath catches in my throat.
“Pippa,” he says, his voice a little husky. “It’s not a good idea.”
I shake my head. “Itisa good idea. It’s my eighteenth birthday, and this very well could be my last night of freedom. Did you know I had to beg for this tournament?”
He shakes his head and wraps his fingers around mine.
“They want me to marry Lionel. Are you acquainted with him?” Galinor’s nose wrinkles, but I cut him off before he can answer. “Exactly. What if he wins? Then this will be the last beautiful night of freedom I will have to remember. Share a sliver of it with me.”
The prince looks like he’s going to argue, but then our eyes meet. I know he will go with me.
“All right,” he finally agrees.
“Yes?” I bounce on my toes.
Galinor smiles, shaking his head. “I still think it’s a bad idea.
I pull him up by his hand. “It will be fine—you’ll see.”
I would assure him more, but sometimes even the best of plans have a way of going awry. But what can go wrong when everyone is in the great hall? It will be easier to slip away now than it’s ever been.
The stables arequiet except for the occasional horse whinny. A few heads pop over the stalls to see who we are and what we’re doing, but for the most part, the horses ignore us.
“There should be guards posted here,” Galinor says as we make our way through the aisles to the back where my horse is kept.
We brush past several bales of hay. My nose tickles, and I resist the urge to sneeze.
“Why?” I try to look ladylike as I rub my nose with the back of my hand.
He looks at me as if I were a naive child. “Errintonian bandits, thieves…”
“We don’t have much trouble here,” I say with a shrug.
We stop in front of a fine palomino mare. Her coat is glossy, and her mane and tail have been braided. The stable boys have done well with my Willowisp.
