“Yes. I didn’t raise him, but we’re still very close.” He adjusts Bastion’s saddle, and then runs his hand through the horse’s mane as well. Our fingers brush; the touch is a shock of connection.
I pull my hand away quickly, my heart thudding at double-speed. I catch Lincoln’s gaze, seeing intensity there. His hand didn’t move against mine by accident. Suddenly, I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. Focus, Myla. You only want to be friends with this guy. Time to change the subject. “How’s the Furor?”
A smile dances in Lincoln’s eyes. “Much better. He still hasn’t changed form, but we moved him to the palace infirmary all the same.”
“I’m glad.”
Nightshade trots up beside me, tossing her bluish-gray head from side to side. I get the feeling she’s anxious to run. Gripping her saddle, I haul myself onto her back.
Lincoln does the same with Bastion. “Ready?”
My heart decides that now is a good time to beat so hard, a whoosh of blood sounds in my ears. Ready for what, exactly? Friendship, trouble, something else?
I grip the reins more tightly and work hard at acting cool. “Sure. Where to?”
“Follow me.” Lincoln clicks his tongue. Our horses take off at a gallop.
Nightshade’s hooves thunder beneath me as Lincoln and I tear through the compound. Thrax poke their heads out tent flaps and windowsills as we ride by. They don’t get cable out here, so I guess the Prince’s afternoon ride qualifies as entertainment.
The ground opens up into rolling hills covered in greenish-yellow grass. Smooth gray clouds cover the sky. Nightshade and Bastion fall into in a slower rhythm, every breath and hoof-fall in perfect sync. A line of hedges looms ahead.
Lincoln glances over his shoulder, smiling in a way that I feel down to my toes. His wavy brown hair dances across his face, highlighting his strong cheekbones and firm jawline. He nods to the low wall of green. “Do you think it’s too dangerous to–”
I dig my thighs into Nightshade’s barrel. “Hyah!” My horse races toward the hedge.
Behind me, Lincoln clicks his tongue. The thrum of Bastion’s hoof-falls sounds behind me, drawing nearer by the second. The hedges close in. Nightshade shifts her weight onto her back legs, and then springs forward. There’s the weightless joy of flying through the air, followed by the heavy thud as we hit the ground. Lincoln lands a second behind me. I pull Nightshade’s reins so we circle Lincoln and Bastion. “And that is me kicking your butt!”
He laughs. “I didn’t realize it was a competition.”
My face beams. Okay, how awesome is this? Normally, I hang with people who obsess that I’ll hurt myself—or them—with the warrior stuff I do. Case in point: if Cissy complains one more time how I chipped her tooth in grade school, I’ll scream. Now, here’s Lincoln, trying to beat me over the hedge wall, then laughing when he loses.
I guide my steed so we’re side by side. “To a warrior, everything’s a competition.”
Lincoln eyes me carefully. “Are you really prepared to all-out compete with me?”
I stick out my tongue. “Do your worst.”
“Good. I will.” Grinning, Lincoln clicks his tongue again. Nightshade and Bastion head off in a new direction.
We scale up a hilly path. The horses slow to a walk. The trail narrows, ending on a cliff that overlooks the Gray Sea. We dismount, guiding the horses to sip from a nearby pool. I plunk down at the cliff’s edge, letting my feet dangle off the rock lip. The desert stretches off to the horizon, its charcoal-gray ground touched by a silver sky. I feel like I live in this place, I see it so much in my dreamscapes from Verus.
I shield my eyes from the updraft of sand. “How often do you come here?”
Lincoln sits beside me on the ledge. “Whenever I need a break from court. Maybe once a week.”
“The Gray Sea is lovely in a…” I bob my head up and down, trying to find the right words.
“Bleak desert kind of way?”
“Exactly.” I smile softly. No one’s ever finished a thought for me before. It’s kinda cool. “So, what’s it like to hunt demons on earth?”
Lincoln winces. “A bit grisly. Most of the ladies in court ask that I skip the more gruesome bits, so I usually cut the description short and simply say that—”
“Well, if one of those ladies shows up, you can stop talking.” I shoot him a sly look. “It’s me here, Lincoln.”
“Right.” He jumps to his feet. “Let’s say I’m the demon. I’m on earth’s surface causing all sorts of trouble, only humans think I’m a storm or an illness breaking out or whatever.”
My jaw falls open. “Humans can’t see demons?”
“Nope.” He points to his blue eye. “Thrax only see them as part of our angel nature, and you probably see them from the demon part in yours. You be the thrax.”
I rise to my feet. “Grr.”
Lincoln chuckles. “And a ‘grr’ to you, too.” He gestures toward me. “So you find out demons are causing trouble somewhere, let’s say it’s a forest. You get your team together and suit up for demon patrol.”