The door opens and Lincoln steps inside. “Hello, Miss Lewis.” My body turns gooey. This can’t help my recovery.
“Hi.” I scope out his outfit: jeans, a fitted black t-shirt, and leather boots. “Wow. You know about the twenty-first century.”
“That’s right, you’ve only seen me at official court events.” He gestures down his torso. “Welcome to my day off.”
“I like it.” I make the same gesture over my white sheath. “Welcome to this random nightgown someone put on me.” I frown. “That wasn’t you, was it?”
He grins. “I’ll never tell.”
A dumb part of me wants to smile back, but I stop myself and look out the window again. He’s still a creep.
Lincoln’s voice sounds behind me. “I wanted to check that you’re okay. Things were a little touch-and-go last night.” He lets out a long breath. “And you look fine.” There’s a long pause where I keep staring out the window and not talking to Lincoln. Don’t forget that he’s an ass, Myla. Not to mention that weirdness in the stables last night. I must’ve had an allergic reaction to the neurotoxin. My inner demon is wrath only, end of story.
The floorboards creak softly as Prince shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I’ll take my leave now.”
His footsteps thud as he walks away. Something in my rib cage tightens. For some reason, I don’t want him to go.
“Hey.” I spin around to face him. He stands by door; his hand grips the handle. Our gazes lock. “Thanks for…You know.”
He arches his brows. “Saving your life?”
“Yes, that.” I half-smile and realize something: it’s hard to hate someone who saved your life, especially if that someone gives a mean massage.
“No problem.” He folds his arms over his chest. “We’re running a special this month on magical horses and lifesaving.”
I full-on grin. “You have a sense of humor. Somehow I didn’t expect that.”
He looks at me out of his slate-blue eye. “Well, it’s not like I wowed you with my dazzling personality when we met.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “No, you didn’t.”
“In fact, I was closed-minded and awful for far too long. I’m very sorry.”
I screw my mouth onto one side of my face. He’s not getting off the hook that easily. “No more nasty ‘demon girl’ comments?”
Straightening his stance, he sets his hand over his heart. “Never again.” He winks. “I got a stern talking to from my mother about that.” His full mouth winds into a crafty grin. “And you know how she can be.”
Dammit, he just got off the hook. “Yes, I do.” I laugh.
He steps closer. “How about we start over?” He bows slightly. “Hello, I’m Lincoln.”
I pause, eyeing him carefully. Why not?
“Myla Lewis.”
He offers his hand. “Friends?”
I set my palm on his. “Friends.” His skin feels warm and firm. I remember his touch on the small of my back, then quickly drop his hand. “I guess I’m stuck here for the next few days.” I shrug. “I don’t feel all that sick though.”
“I have a very over-protective court physician.” Mischief dances in his mismatched eyes.
I poke him in the shoulder. “Hey, now. Did you get me out of school?”
He leans against the wall, hitching his right leg across the left. “If I did, it would be justified as an extra tournament reward.”
“So, what’s there to do around here, friend?”
“Want to take Nightshade for a ride?”
I pause, tilting my head to one side. Memories of his touch simmer in the back of my mind. I need to be careful. No more bizarre lust demon episodes, particularly with guys who only just proved they aren’t total jerks. But hey, friends do stuff like ride horses around. We can do that.
I nod once. “Sure.”
“Good. I’ll have some riding togs sent over.”
“Pants, please.” I’ve seen these thrax ladies riding side-saddle in long dresses. Not my thing.
He grins. “I’ll make sure they offer you a wide selection.”
“Great.” I yawn and stretch. “See you at the stables in an hour?”
“You don’t need more time to get ready?”
I sniff. “Do I look like that girl to you?”
He chuckles. “No, you don’t.” He swings open the door. “In an hour, then.”
Lincoln steps out the door. An army of servants pour into the cottage, all wearing traditional gowns and tunics. They bring me food, things to wear and fill up a copper tub for a bath. I wash, have a snack, and decide to dress in brown leather pants, tall black boots, and a corseted red blouse. My long auburn hair is tied back with a black velvet ribbon.
I find the stables. Lincoln stands outside with Nightshade and a sleek black Arabian horse.
“I’d like you to meet Bastion.” He gestures to the black horse.
“He’s a beauty.” I pat the horse’s neck. “Another from the House of Striga?” I comb my fingers comb his silky mane.