“Yes, welcome,” Yerengul repeats. His gaze moves slowly from my loose hair all the way down to my feet and back up. A gleam of mischief shines in his eyes, and he grins. “Nice going, little brother. You slayed the fire dragon and won the heart of the fair princess.”
Golmarr shakes his head. “No, you’ve got that backward, Yeren.” My heart starts hammering in my chest and I look at Golmarr, wondering if he’s going to tell them that I slayed the fire dragon and not him. I shake my head the slightest bit, pleading with my eyes not to tell them the truth. He puts his hand beneath my chin. “I don’t know if I won the heart of the fair princess, but she won mine.” He stares into my eyes, searching them, looking for the answer to what he has said, looking to see if he has, in fact, won my heart.
Yerengul claps his shoulder. “Evay is going to kill you.”
Golmarr grimaces. “Yes, she is.”
“Do you know what Golmarr said the night of the feast, after he danced with you in your mother’s hall?” Yerengul asks me, his eyes dancing with mischief.
Golmarr shakes his head. “Shut up, Yeren,” he growls.
Yerengul laughs. “He said, ‘If I was betrothed to her, I would have no problem taking her to my bed on our wedding night.’?”
Golmarr flinches and looks at me.
I gasp. “You are a scoundrel!”
A slow smile spreads over his face. “What can I say? It’s true. And if anything, it is even truer now.” He quickly presses a kiss to my lips and then darts away before I can retaliate.
I ride in front of Golmarr, with his hands loosely holding my waist. Enzio and Golmarr’s brothers ride behind us so that I, at Golmarr’s request, get an unobstructed view of the glorious Antharian grasslands. We ride in silence over rolling hills, and by the way he keeps fidgeting with my thick leather belt, I can tell something is bothering him. When the sun has crawled a quarter of the way across the sky, he clears his throat. “I need to ask you something, Sorrowlynn,” he says quietly, so only I can hear.
“Then ask.” I turn my head to the side so I can see him. He takes one hand from my hip and runs it through his short hair, and his eyes turn cautious. A touch of apprehension coils in my belly. “What’s wrong?” I whisper, wishing I could reach back and smooth the crease from between his black eyebrows.
“I’ve never asked you…that is, I’ve only assumed, based on the way you kissed me, that you’re not opposed to having me…how do they say it in your land? Court you?”
I turn away from him so he can’t see the warmth that has risen to my cheeks, and a smile dances to my mouth. “No, I’m not opposed,” I say. Releasing the reins with one hand, I lift his hand from my hip and wrap his arm around my waist, weaving my fingers over the top of his. “I’m not opposed at all.”
“Sorrowlynn of Faodara. I am courting Princess Sorrowlynn of Faodara.” He pulls my hair away from my neck and I feel his warm, moist lips against my skin. I shiver at the touch and tilt my head to the side, exposing more skin to be kissed.
“I see that, Golmarr!” Yerengul yells from behind.
Golmarr chuckles and drops my hair. “Maybe if you could find a woman who liked your ugly face, you wouldn’t have to live vicariously through your younger brother,” he yells back, and tightens his arm around my waist.
“How much older is Yerengul than you?” I ask.
“Two years,” Golmarr says. “And Jessen is thirteen years older. Yerengul and I have the same mother—we were born by my father’s second wife. She died giving birth to me.”
“I’m sorry she died.”
By the time the sun has reached the highest point in the sky and then moved a little way west, we are riding along a well-traveled dirt road lined with fenced pastures filled with cattle, sheep, and horses, or covered with row after row of corn or wheat. Men, women, and children are out in the fields, working and playing. They do not look like the fierce barbarians who are rumored to inhabit Anthar. I cannot make sense of it. “If your people are farmers, why do you all have such a reputation for fighting?”