Golmarr mounts a black horse, and I know it is the same horse he rode to stop me from stealing his father’s stallion back in Faodara. “This is Tanyani,” he says. “That is the ancient Antharian word for the energy that vibrates the air when two armies collide on the battlefield.” He pats Tanyani’s neck. “Remember, Antharian horses are trained to respond to your movements. Lean forward to make Dewdrop run; lean back to slow down or stop. If you press against her with your right leg and lean to the right, she turns right. Same with the left. There are other things I will teach you about riding her, but not today.” With that, Golmarr leans forward and Tanyani breaks into a gallop, the pound of his hooves sounding like the low rumble of thunder.
I wind my hands in Dewdrop’s mane and lean forward. She doesn’t start slow—simply goes from standing still to a full-out gallop, and the green field starts speeding past. The wind blows my hair from my face and presses my tunic against my chest. I feel like I am flying, and that is when the realization that I am blissfully, ridiculously happy settles over me.
The grass tapers off into sand, and Golmarr is waiting at the spot where sand and ocean meet, watching me. I lean back, and Dewdrop instantly slows, trotting up beside Golmarr.
“You are an incredibly graceful rider,” he says. “Do you suppose it is because of the dragon’s treasure, or are you naturally good at physical things?”
“Both, I think. I could learn a dance after seeing it done once, but my sisters always had to practice the steps over and over before they could remember them.”
Golmarr dismounts and holds his hands up to me to help me down. When I am standing in front of him, he tightens his hold on my waist and says, “There is something I need to tell you.” He frowns and fiddles with my belt, and I can feel tension oozing off of his taut body.
“What? Is it bad news?”
“No, nothing bad. At least, I don’t think you will consider it bad news.” He clears his throat. “Part of the Mountain Binding says that if the Antharian prince chooses to marry a Faodarian princess at the ceremony, he is instantly moved into the position of heir. But…” He studies my face, watching for a reaction. “Since the fire dragon was killed, we no longer have to follow the rules of the Mountain Binding. Tonight at the feast, I am going to formally request that I not be the Antharian heir. There are two reasons behind my choice. First, I would rather focus on protecting you from the dragons than be burdened with the duties of heir. Second, I believe some people will think that I chose to be wed to you simply to gain the throne. This is my way of proving to you and them that in no way was my choice influenced by any desire for power. How do you feel about that?”
Again, my heart does that expanding that makes it hard for me to talk. I tap my chin and try to put my thoughts into words. “If you are not the heir, does that alter our betrothal in any way?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then I think what you just said makes me love you even more,” I say. Relief washes over him, softening his entire body. “Did you think I agreed to marry you because you were going to be king one day?”
“No, it never occurred to me, but Ingvar brought it up last night while you were sleeping. I wanted to talk to you before I made my decision formal, in case you did care. And if you did, I would have rethought my decision.”
“If I were not a princess, would you still want to marry me?” I ask.
He laughs. “I would marry you if you were a lowly Trevonan fishmonger’s youngest daughter.”
“Aren’t you and the Trevonans enemies?”
“Yes, we are. That is the point.” He turns and faces the ocean. “What do you think? This is the first time you have seen the ocean, right?”
I crouch and run my fingers through the damp yellow sand. “I feel like I have seen it hundreds of times before. I feel as if I have lived on its shores and fallen asleep to the constant lullaby of crashing waves.” I stand and breathe in the damp, briny scent. “It is spectacular.”
Golmarr abruptly turns his back to the ocean and shades his eyes with his left hand. His right hand is on his sword hilt. Two horses are approaching at a gallop. One rider has long, dark hair flowing out behind him. The other has short, dark hair.
“It is Enzio and Yerengul,” I say, and Golmarr’s hand falls away from his sword. Their horses’ hooves throw sprays of sand behind them as they gallop to us and pull to a hard stop.
“What is wrong?” Golmarr asks.
“Nayadi is receiving a vision, but refuses to speak of it until we are all gathered,” Yerengul says. “Father has called an urgent council meeting. You and Sorrowlynn are to attend. He asks that you come with all haste and let Enzio accompany Sorrowlynn at her leisure.”
“At my leisure?” I ask, looking between Yerengul and Enzio.
“They think that since you are a northern princess, you cannot ride as swiftly as a horse lord,” Enzio says with a gleam in his eyes. “I told them I did not think my assistance would be needed, but I would come in case I was mistaken.”
“She can keep up with us,” Golmarr says.
Yerengul glances at Dewdrop. “Even riding bareback?”
“Believe me or not, Yerengul,” I say, “but I know just about everything there is to know about riding.”
Yerengul glares at Golmarr. “You are so lucky,” he says, and then he turns and rides away.