Page 9 of The Princess Tied

Men.

As if he had more enemies than her anyway, she had loads of them.

They clattered along the road and a wind found them, making pieces of her hair whip loose from the tie she’d placed around it and flick backward. It must be annoying the man behind her, yet he said nothing.

Kept on a lead rope, the mare followed at a neat trot. She was a chestnut with a blaze on her forehead and of nondescript appearance, but the stallion was a remarkable horse. They were not going to pass for peasants.

Then they reached the first fork in the road, where it split to north and south, and John reined in until they clopped to a halt.

“Which way?” he murmured, reminding her with the scent of his warm breath of how close he was—as if the press of his thighs and body was not enough.

“You don’t know?” she ventured, after some time had passed.

That spurred him into doing something. He leaned down and spoke to what seemed the ground.

“That way?”

She realized the white blob below was Ruff, and it was agitated and had been moving forward then circling back, and quite definitely trending toward the northern branch of the road.

“Good.” Firmly he urged the stallion into motion.

“You’re taken on a random animal as your advisor now?”

“I think he knows. He sniffed my pants leg a lot. The Storyteller may have left a trace.”

The Who? Po shook her head and said nothing more. This adventure was feeling less organized by the hour.

She liked her facts in rows and columns.

She liked them organized in folders. With notes.

When they broke into a canter again, she decided that perhaps it would be best to broach the idea of her returning to the palace the next time they stopped.

People normally listened to her. She frowned. This disturbing premonition had popped up—that John would not listen to her, and princesses were supposed to be listened to.

The northern branch of the road meandered ever nearer the mountains before climbing into them in a weaving, winding manner, lazy as a python ascending a tree. The air grew cooler, drier. The trees became scarce and the grass was lush and dotted with pretty wildflowers.

As the air cooled, so did her enthusiasm for this adventure.

She had done this on the spur of the moment, seconds after waking. Ugh. Despicable. Where was her plan?

The maps of her kingdom had long ago been committed to memory and so she knew when John turned off onto a smaller path that they headed for Endless Falls, the longest waterfall in Bitzocoin. It was where she and Xander had first discovered their love for each other. That time, she had been accompanied by a small caravan of servants and a squadron of her light cavalry, for the border with the Hegemony of Kostan was only another hour of riding along the main road.

“We are resting here?” she said over her shoulder when the roar of the falls was unmistakable.

“Rest, eat, and if you wish to, there is a small pool where you can wash. It will be cold.”

Of course she knew this, having dabbled her bare feet in it while talking to Xander only a month ago. How much did John know? It was a question she wasn’t sure she wanted answered.

“You will have to stay back then. I will not be observed. It would be indecorous. Rude,” she added, in case the big word was not known to him.

John snorted. “Just don’t try running away.”

“As if I would do such a thing. Where would I go?”

She’d need a horse to outrun him, and only one track led to the pool, though she did remember Xander remarking on a way to climb the rocks to where the horses had been tethered, as long as one avoided the wet section. But then she’d also need to hobble John’s stallion or take the steed with her. Why was she making plans like this? Because John was going to refuse her request? She had sat in the saddle in front of him, all the way up here, and could have said something already.

She should calmly offer to keep the search for Xander in motion after she returned to safety. Yes. She took a deep breath.