Page 6 of Pippa of Lauramore
“She’s beautiful,” Galinor says.
The horse prances, eager to be off.
“She’s fast, too.” I give him a wicked smile, and he raises his eyebrows in surprise.
I wait for him to admonish me, but instead, he motions to the next aisle. “My horse is this way.”
Willowisp and I follow him.
Once we’ve collected his bay stallion, we saddle our horses without speaking. Only now are we in much danger of being caught. If we were found earlier, I could have said I was checking on Willowisp. If we’re found now, with saddles on our horses, there’s not much chance anyone will believe me.
I freeze when I hear a board creak, and Galinor doesthe same. We wait for several moments but hear nothing else. Just as I turn back to my horse, a soft woof comes from behind me, startling me so much, I jump.
One of the hunting dogs watches us. She’s large, her head comes to my waist, and she’s covered in soft red fur. Her tail curls up behind her, and it wags when I meet her warm brown eyes.
I laugh, holding my hand over my racing heart.
“We’re going for a ride, sweet girl,” I coo at her, holding out my other hand. “You won’t tell on us, will you, darling?”
“Pippa,” a warning voice says from down the next hall.
I bite my lip and resist the urge to curse. Of course,he’dbe with her—she’s one of his dogs. I straighten and wait for the owner of the voice to turn the corner. Galinor steps next to me, though he looks like he would rather shrink away.
I scowl at Archer when our eyes meet. He doesn’t look too amused with me, either. He’s changed clothes since I saw him in the great hall, and he no longer wears that carefree expression that intrigued me.
What was that, an hour ago? What’s he doing here? The celebration will go on for half the night.
Tall himself, he’s still a few inches shorter than Galinor, but he’s certainly more imposing. There’s iron in his lean and muscular archer’s body, and if anyone knows how deadly he is, it’s me.
“I’m going,” I say.
He shakes his head, his blue-green eyes hard. “You’re not.”
I leave Galinor’s side and step up to Archer. “You are not in the position to tell me what to do.”
The words feel like acid on my tongue. I don’t like to remind him of the chasm in our friendship. We pretend it’s not there, but it’s always underneath the tenuous bridge we’ve built. I didn’t notice as much when we were young, when he was more Percival and Alexander’s friend than mine, but the older we get, the farther apart our stations seem.
His mouth tips up, and his eyes soften for a moment. Then they harden again. “No.”
I gape at him.
He arches a light brown brow, waiting for my response. It’s a look that would make most girls simper. That’s the problem with Archer—he’s so handsome it’s disconcerting. This simple fact irritates me more than anything else about him because it’s such a waste. That degree of perfection belongs on someone who is quick to smile and longs for romance—not on a difficult and stubborn man who refuses to let me charm him into getting my own way.
“Please, Archer,” I say, letting my voice drop to a whisper. “One last hour of freedom. You know this may all end with Lionel in my future.”
He takes a deep breath, lets his eyes drop away, and then slowly exhales. “Where are you going?”
The relief is instant, and my smile comes easily. “The cave.”
He turns to Galinor. “You will bring her back in one hour, or I will come after you myself,” he says, his voice as cold and demanding as any prince.
Galinor narrows his eyes, probably realizing he shouldn’t be taking orders from this man, but then thinks better of it and nods.
Wise decision.
“Thank you, Archer,” I say.
“One hour.”
