Can life get any worse?
Let me think… I’m tied to the warlord atop his huge horse, I stink, and my skintight pants are driving me insane.
We ride through the night, the enchanted rope keeping me from jumping off the horse. By dawn, I’m sore and exhausted, my whole body limp with fatigue. My nose still hurts, and my bottom half, which hasn’t been in contact with a horse in years, is aching fiercely, but I keep yawning, and my eyelids feel like someone’s hung marble statues from them. Rage and anxiety usually keep me nice and alert. Right now, they can’t even keep me awake. I slump against the warlord’s back as the sun rises on our right, my last conscious thought that I hope my caked-on cosmetics leave a grimy face print on his clean, white shirt.
I only wake up because someone is fiddling with the rope. Cracking open an eye, I see lean, tall Carver retying it so that Beta Sinta and I are not only strapped together at the waist but under the armpits as well. I didn’t even feel Beta Sinta untie the rope to begin with and scowl at the lost opportunity. I could have turned invisible and bolted from the horse.
Carver pulls the knot tight, tugging me hard against his brother’s back. “You sleep like the dead. Kato and Flynn are already betting on when you’ll fall off.”
I give him the evil eye, and Carver chuckles, flashing that easy smile. Does he think this is funny?
By noon, the sun is high and hot, beating down on my dark hair and crimson-clad back. My leather pants are officially one of the worst things in my life right now, and that’s saying a lot. I still manage to go back to sleep. I haven’t slept like this in years, maybe in my entire life. I may be strapped to a man I hate, but he would probably do a lot to keep me alive. He might even be good at it. Ironically, I feel almost safe.
I’m going to escape. After I sleep.
The afternoon heat is unbearable enough to wake me up for good and make me want to claw off my skin. Beta Sinta is throwing off more than his fair share of heat as well, and all I can think about is dumping buckets of icy water over us both. I keep sane by thinking about the north, the cold, the fiery glow of sunshine through a curtain of ice, and the soft chill of snowflakes frosting my skin, but all that does is fill the hollowness inside me with an even deeper ache. Longing for things I can’t have is useless, just like wishing for freedom and a life no one wants to steal out from under me.
Stifling a sigh, I blink against the dry summer brightness and look around. Dust, dust, and more dust. Fabulous.
My stomach wakes up with a low rumble. “Don’t you people eat?”
“We ate. You slept through it.”
Beta Sinta’s deep voice vibrates through my rib cage, and I wiggle back as far as the rope will allow.
“I have to get down.”
He glances over his shoulder at me. “Now?”
“I have to… You know…”
There’s a slight pause. Of course he knows.
“There are woods and a stream up ahead. We’ll stop there.”
I squint and can barely make out the greenery on the horizon. It’s miles away. What does he think I’m made of? “I have to pee now.”
Wordlessly, he reins in his mount, loosening the rope to give me about four feet to work with.
I slide to the ground and land on wobbly legs, bracing myself against the horse’s steaming flank. I glare up at him. “You have to get down. Or untie the rope.”
Moving with easy, masculine grace, Beta Sinta swings down, still irritatingly fresh except for the sweaty face print on his back. Ha!
“Some privacy?” I grind out.
He arches one eyebrow. You’d think I’d just asked him to catch Pegasus and fly him to the moon. There’s no privacy anyway, not even a bush to squat behind, just sunburned plains, heat haze, dust, and tumble bumbles.
Shrugging, I turn invisible, taking the rope and the warlord along with me. His men shout in alarm.
“It’s all right,” Beta Sinta calls. “I’m still here.”
He can’t see me, though. Right now, he can’t even see himself. Anything attached to me turns invisible right along with me. Clothes, ropes, warlords… It’s a great way to scare the life out of someone. They think they’ve died and become a realm-walking spirit. Nobody wants to end up like that.
The second we pop back into sight, Beta Sinta mounts his big, brown beast and reaches down for me. I’m so stiff I can’t get back on the horse. None of my muscles comply with my brain, and he has to haul me up like a sack of grain.
“Go easy, Griffin,” Flynn rumbles on our left. “She’s not used to riding.”
I almost throw him a grateful glance but then turn it into a scowl, which is easy since I’m squinting into the sun, and Flynn’s shock of auburn hair is so shiny it’s practically a weapon in its own right.