LITMIR.BIZ

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reins.

      “What about your war trophy? You cannot leave a good wyvern head behind.” Danika smiled.

      “I gave it to the minstrels.” Bron heaved the last bag of rice into the carriage. It plopped on top of the velvety seats, stirring up moss dust. He turned and winked. “Maybe King Troubadir will make another table.”

      “A horrid table indeed.” Danika rolled her eyes. “I cannot even imagine.”

      “Maybe you can discuss it with him now.” Bron gestured over her shoulder.

      King Troubadir had arrived, flanked by three minstrels on either side. Their long cloaks brushed the tall grasses behind them. They were dressed in formal robes, flutes hung from silver cords around their waists. Not one of them carried a lute. Valorian hadn’t come.

      His absence surprised her. Why wouldn’t the prince bid them farewell on their journey? Maybe his affections didn’t run as deep as she thought. A newfound sense of freedom from obligation poured over her, but an underlying current of disappointment irked her as well. Did no man seek her attentions?

      “Good morning, Princess Danika.” Troubadir smiled and extended his hand. Danika bowed before him, taking his hand in hers.

      “I trust your quarters provided sufficient rest and relaxation.”

      Behind her, Bron grunted and spoke under his breath, “Maybe a little too much.”

      Danika cleared her throat to silence him. She didn’t need him reminding her of her lay-about late morning nap. She blamed her exhaustion on the previous day’s terrors.

      “Yes, my cottage exceeded my expectations, indeed.” She released his hand, eager to be rid of it.

      The king curled his delicate fingers around a crystal flute as if from habit. “Wonderful. As you can see, I’ve provided more than enough rice.”

      “My thanks, Your Highness.” Danika counted the horses. They needed all four to pull the carriage. Where were her and Nip’s mounts?

      “Excuse me for a moment, Your Highness.” She bowed and strode over to Bron.

      He busied himself cleaning the horses’ hooves with a silver pick. He glanced over his shoulder. “Yes, Princess?”

      “Where are the rest of the horses?”

      Bron shrugged. “The king said he’d see to it.”

      “Doesn’t look like he’s seen to anything with four legs.” Danika huffed and crossed her arms. Time slipped through her fingers and she couldn’t wait around for forgetful minstrels. Did they plan to keep her waiting until her kingdom fell to ruin?

      Bron straightened, meeting her eye. “Do you want me to talk with him?”

      “No. I’ll straighten out our arrangements.”

      “Hi-ya, great stallions, on to battle!” Nip shouted from behind them.

      Bron chuckled, “Looks like we have the makings of a great warrior in our midst.”

      Danika rolled her eyes. “One is enough for me.”

      “Is it, now?” Bron’s gaze darkened.

      Did he ask if he was enough? The air between them sizzled with anticipation. She studied the curve of his lips, ending with the scar trailing up to his cheek. If only she could reach out and trace the vulnerable skin. Maybe then, she’d touch his soul and guess the thoughts lingering in his head.

      Hoof-beats pounded the earth, coming from the village behind them. Danika ripped her gaze away from his unwavering stare. Valorian rode in on a spotted stallion, trailing three auburn horses. He dismounted in a swift arc and led the horses to her side. “Morning, Princess Danika. I’ve brought you the finest steeds the House of Song has to offer.”

      He’d already saddled the horses with fine leather and jeweled reins. Their coats gleamed in a flawless shine.

      Danika couldn’t hide the awe in her voice. “Thank you, Prince Valorian.”

      “My pleasure.” He flashed a smile, silvery eyes catching the sun like an upraised sword.

      Danika blinked, trying not to be too mesmerized.

      “Can we proceed with this journey?” Bron grumbled. “I doubt the She-Beast waits for tardy warriors.”

      “Of course.” Valorian handed the princess a set of reins, his fingers closing over hers.

      Heat traveled from his gentle grip to her face. She looked away. “I have to summon Nip.”

      He released his hold. “By all means.”

      She thought she’d have to bargain with Nip to get him out of Bron’s seat, but the boy jumped from the carriage and saluted Valorian with a wave.

      “Here you are, valiant knight.” Valorian hoisted him on his mount and handed him the reins.

      “Thank you, sir.” Nip settled in the saddle, looking like a toddler on a warhorse.

      Danika grew nervous, doubting her decision to have the boy tag along. “You do know how to ride a horse, don’t you?”

      Nip fumbled with the reins. “Yeah. We had a pet mule named Gracy. I used to ride her in town all the time.”

      “Excellent practice.” Valorian nodded, leading the beast forward.

      Danika flared her eyes at the prince in warning and shook her head. “Nip, secure a good hold. The fall to the ground is much farther than from a mule’s back.”

      “I’ll make sure he’s riding straight.” Valorian released his grip and watched Nip steer the first few paces on his own.

      Danika opened her mouth to ask how he’d protect Nip all the way from the House of Song when she noticed a travel bag with a goat’s stomach strapped on his horse. He wore a different cloak than the others, too, the velvety fabric replaced with smooth, black leather. He meant to travel with them.

      “We have no need for your assistance, I assure you, Prince.”

      “The fate of both our kingdoms dangles on the backs of a princess, her bodyguard and a small boy. Surely, one more hand will aid your quest. Especially a minstrel for protection.”

      Her mouth tightened with a retort as Valorian swept his arm to the carriage. “Bron can lift an ox, no doubt. Four bags of rice, however, will constrain him, especially when he’s supposed to be offering his protection. What if the albinos decide you are a better meal than all that rice?”

      “Bron?” Danika questioned him with a glare.

      Bron threw the silver pick near his travel bag on his seat. He gave the carriage a long look before answering. He scratched his head. “He’s right. If I carry the rice all by myself, I’ll be incapacitated. I could take two or three trips wielding my claymore, but time is of the essence, and we still have to lug all the metal back if they’ll trade.”

      Looking at Valorian’s long branch-like arms, she doubted he could carry even one bag. Anger mustered inside her and she fought to keep her tongue in check. She didn’t want to be babysat by a minstrel. He’d spy on them all the way there. Not to mention the fact he had a certain power over her, no doubt resulting from his magic charms.

      Bron walked over to her and offered his arm, “Princess, if we may speak in private?”

      “Of course.” She glanced at Valorian and King Troubadir. “I’ll just be a moment.”

      Valorian bowed. “Take all the time you need.”

      She slipped her hand over Bron’s round bicep and followed him to a glade beyond the line of bluewoods. A lark trilled above them and flew to a higher perch in the shadows. Danika shot the bird a skeptical eye. Who knew what form of spies lurked in these woods?

      She settled on an outcropping

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