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Verrick merely nods, a grim, brief movement. He is likely confused and maybe even annoyed by my request, but I am unworried by his attitude. He’ll understand soon enough.
We move out from the gate, the one that just yesterday was swarmed by the mob. Bronwyn must have kept her promise, because today it is clear. Who is she, this peasant woman that seems to wield such respect and power over her fellow commonfolk? I’ll have to write to Adalind and have her spies look into it.
Before long, we are out of the capital, in the fields that surround it, and I give Verrick a cheeky grin, “Shall we race to the edge of the Royal Grove?”
“That would not be wise,” he frowns.
I laugh. “That is why it will be fun.”
At the close of my words, I nudge Zephyr sharply and she breaks into a gallop.
I feel at peace and free for the first time in ages, racing over the green like this.There is no Council out here, no responsibilities, or plots, or Cabals. Just open air and the wind in my hair.
Behind me, I hear a curse, and then a warbeast is suddenly at my side. I expect him to outpace me quickly. After all, his mount is much bigger and younger than mine. But Verrick stays with me, completely apace. Not a race then, just two riders at high speed.
I flash a smile at him and see him glower in response. I merely laugh, though. How can he be so adorable with his poor attitude? I do not know, but he is to me. It is interesting because Yorian was always smiles and smoothness on the surface, with frightening moodiness below. One would think I would be done with moodiness because of it, but Verrick is different. The opposite of Yorian, I think. I sense a gentleness beneath his frowns. We finally reach the treeline of Royal Grove and we stop. I am breathing hard from my speedy ride, but Verrick looks much the same as before, his face stone.
“You did not race,” I laughingly accuse, stretching my back.
“I do not have time for orcling games,” he replies simply, “and I am the only one out here with you. I cannot protect you if I leave you behind me.”
The statement is arrogant and brusk. Even so, I see that vein of gentleness I suspect in him. He is focused on my protection, not my censure. And though I can tell he does not approve of my childish game, he does not seek to stop or control me, either. More and more I know he is the one I want in my bed.
“Very well,” I agree amicably. “No more games then. There is a reason I wanted you out this far.”
“And that is?”
“Last night, the Cabal contacted me.” I know Rognar briefed him on the Cabal and their sadism, and his entire body tenses at their mention.
“What happened?” he asks sharply. “Were you hurt?”
“I am well,” I say, warmed by his concern. “I never actually saw anyone. They spoke to me from a secret chamber that is attached to my room. I searched for the entrance this morning, but could not find it. But there must be a whole labyrinth of secret corridors in the castle that they used to get there. That’s why I wanted to have this conversation here, out where we can speak freely without being overheard. The castle is compromised, for now.”
“They have a way to get to your room? They could have captured you, or worse. This is no laughing matter, Regent Santir.”
“That is not the concern right now, and I am not laughing,” I say. “And please call me Pellia when we are alone. It makes me feel like my father is over my shoulder when you use the Santir name.”
“How is that not the concern? They could have taken you as a political prisoner or killed you to make a statement. This should be reported to the king and queen immediately.”
“Exactly,” I retort. “They could have at any time, but they haven’t. Because they have gotten it into their heads that I am sympathetic to them.”
Verrick stills. “And why would they think that?”
“Because Yorian was delusional. He circulated to everyone that we were childhood sweethearts, destined lovers, all that rot. The actual story is that Yorian could stand no one having something he didn’t, and he wanted me because he had a rival who wanted me as well. Also, because my mother was from Sheaotha across the sea, I was an exotic, rare thing he desired for his collection. I won’t pretend that he didn't treat me much better than everyone else in his circle and that he even believed his own story, but I never loved him. I was with him because my father feared what would happen to House Santir if we had said no. He was always more concerned with our family’s power than my well-being.”
The speech pours out of me like festering pus from aninfected wound. I do not speak of that time with Yorian if I can help it. It was hard, going to bed with a man I did not love and pretending to care for him under fear for my life. Over ten years of putting on a mask so that I could live, all while hating him every second. But it doesn’t do to dwell on it. I only want to move on.
“But the Cabal believes the story that you were in a love match with the king?” Verrick asks carefully, breaking my reverie.
“Yes,” I reply. “They think I mourn him and that they can use me to carry out their newest plan.”
“What is the plan?”
“They plan to lay a trap for you in the south. It isthemsetting the fires. They mean to lure you to a lair they have in Grimblton. Their agent told me they have a plan that will expel the orcs from Adrik, and that taking you captive is the key to it working.”
“Why do they need me? If they think of making me a hostage, it would never work. If they try to use me to threaten Orik, my king would merely send more of the Horde and start killing all the nobles until he found the right ones.”
“That may be their plan. They did not say. If it is, then at the very least it could reignite the war, an outcome they already tried for when they tried to kill the queen and king during their Bride Chase last month. Several of the nobles are rich enough to hire private armies, maybe even ogre mercenaries from across the Abyssal Ocean. There would be blood and slaughter and innocent lives would be lost. But, like I said, they didn’t tell me any specifics. Just that they need you to be lured to the south.”
