Page 11 of Anwen of Primewood (The Eldentimber #2)

T he day dawns as beautiful as we could hope.

There are a few clouds in the sky, and the morning is cool.

Soon autumn will touch the trees. I wish I could be here to see it.

Autumns in Primewood are unspectacular; only the brush turns color.

Until the snow tops the evergreen boughs late in the season, it doesn’t look much different from spring or summer.

We prepare to leave, and I wait and watch, not sure what I can do to help. During last night’s evening meal, Bran and his brother decided to travel with us as well. When the decision was made, all four princes sent their men on ahead, satisfied our group is large enough for safety.

Bran’s brother, Dristan, joins me by a mountain cherry. He walks with a slight limp, but he seems to be doing very well for being in a rock slide, which is what Irving said happened to him during the tournament.

“Are you ready, Lady Anwen?” he asks. “Irving has bought you a horse so you don’t have to ride with Galinor anymore.”

I glance at Irving, startled. He holds a strawberry roan mare by the reins, and he motions for me to come over. It will be nice to have my own mare again. Who would want to ride the entire way two to a horse?

I chew my lip, and my eyes wander to Galinor.

Leonora comes up behind me and sets her hand on my arm. “So, you’re leaving?”

“I suppose I am.”

She eyes the group. Quietly, but not quietly enough , she says, “You realize you’re riding with four very handsome and very eligible princes, don’t you?”

“Leonora!” I exclaim softly.

Certain he heard, I glance at Dristan. The prince’s brown eyes meet mine for a short moment before they fall away, and a faint blush colors his cheeks. He joins Bran, acting as if he didn’t just overhear Leonora.

“He’s adorable,” Leonora whispers.

Taller than Bran, Dristan is possibly the most handsome of the two brothers.

I give her a stern look. “He’s two years younger than I am.”

Bran laughs at something Dristan says. Noticing me watching, he nods my way, and his lips tip in a crooked smile.

Dristan must have told him what Leonora said.

“What about Bran?” Leonora loops her arm in mine. “He’s two years older.”

I study Bran. Everything about him boasts that he’s the nautical prince he is. His hair is blond and sun- streaked. His eyes are brown, just a shade lighter than Dristan’s, and his skin is tan. He has a warm smile, and right now, it’s directed at me.

I shake Leonora’s ideas out of my head. “Marigold is going as well, why don’t you try to match her up?”

Leonora sighs and runs her hand over her belly. “I thought she was taken with Galinor, but she seems to have changed her mind.”

“What of Galinor?” I examine my fingernails. “How does he feel about her?”

Leonora laughs softly. “Who knows? He’s wonderful to everyone, isn’t he?”

“Is he?”

Leonora nods, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Come on, Anwen,” Irving calls. “Time to ride.”

“Thank you for the gowns,” I say to Leonora.

We exchange goodbyes, and I walk to my new horse. I give her a pat and then turn to Irving, ignoring the pang of grief for my own horse. “She’s lovely.”

Irving smiles. “I had a thought, Anwen.”

I stroke the horse’s cheek, and she leans into my hand. “What is it?”

“I need a bride, and you need something to toss in this Bandolian villain’s face. What do you think of marrying me?”

The laugh dies on my lips when I see the look on Irving’s face. He waits for my answer, his eyebrows raised.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Why not? I adore you, Anwen, and I know you like me. ”

I furrow my eyebrows. “If I accept this horse, I have to marry you?”

He laughs. “No, the horse is a gift.”

“You realize, don’t you, that last night you got drunk on fairy cider and did who-knows-what?” I lean in closer. “Remember the grass tunic? The crown of flowers?”

“Exactly!” He sets his hands on my shoulders. “I’m a mess when it comes to love. Instead of continuing the search, I could marry you.”

My mouth drops open.

He steps back. “Darling, that came out wrong.”

I scowl at him, snatch the reins from his hand, and then mount the horse.

“You know what I meant,” he calls as I ride away from him.

As long as I stay away from Irving, the ride is pleasant. Marigold chatters about her month in Lauramore, and I idly listen. She’s going on about missing her library in Primewood when I hear a soft mew behind us.

Danver’s on my lap, sleeping. It wasn’t him.

I turn but see nothing.

“What is it?” Looking nervous, Marigold glances over her shoulder.

“Nothing,” I say, but as she continues, I strain to hear another mew.

Finally, I hear it again, louder this time. My heart leaps. I watch the trees, hoping, waiting.

“Anwen,” Galinor calls from ahead. All morning he’s been deep in conversation with the Triblue brothers, but now his attention is on me.

So, he’s heard it, too.

He pulls his horse back. “May I speak with you?”

Marigold gives him a curious look as she passes, but she doesn’t stop.

I ride to Galinor and then draw my horse next to his as I scan the trees. “Did you see Pika?”

Galinor’s eyes meet mine, making me forget about the glasseln for half a moment. My goodness, they are blue.

He looks at me expectantly, almost as if he asked me something and is waiting for a response.

I blink at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said I haven’t seen her. Have you?”

I shake my head, looking away from him.

“No.” I glance at our party. They’re well ahead of us now. “We need to tell the others so they won’t hurt her should she show herself.”

Galinor’s brow knits as he thinks about it. “We can’t.”

“Why not?”

His gaze moves to the horses ahead of us. “Marigold will be terrified.”

I narrow my eyes. “But Pika isn’t a threat.”

“You must understand how the news of Pika would upset her. You know she was attacked by a glasseln not long ago, don’t you?”

“Not this glasseln.”

He nudges his horse closer. “You are impossible, do you know that?”

“And you’re overprotective, do you know that?”

He studies me and then huffs out a breath before he runs a hand through his dark hair. “There’s a chance the glasseln will never show herself. We shouldn’t argue over it.”

“You say that like it would be a good thing.”

“It would be a good thing.”

I toss my head, refusing to look at him, and nudge my mare forward.

“Difficult,” he says under his breath.

I ignore him and continue to watch the woods for Pika. After a few minutes, I forget I’m irritated. “When will we reach Glendon?”

Our pace is easy, and if he’s not worried about lagging behind the rest of the group, then I’m not either. My eyes shift to him, and as I do, his gaze meets mine. I look away quickly, pretending to be scanning the trees.

“We’ll cross the border by early evening,” he says. “There’s an inn in Briar Ridge. We’ll stay there.”

I peek back. His eyes are still on me.

The others are far enough ahead I don’t hear their chatter anymore.

Birds sing in the trees, and a creek bubbles not far from us, following the same path, winding its way down to Glendon.

We’ve only been riding for a few hours, but after several steep descents, we’re already in lower terrain, and the air is warmer.

“What did Irving say to upset you earlier?” Galinor asks.

I grimace. “He asked me to marry him.”

Galinor’s eyes go wide, and for a moment, it looks as if he’s choked on something. “How did you answer?”

I think about it. “I didn’t answer,” I say as I realize it’s true. “Not that it matters. I won’t marry Irving. ”

“He’s the Crown Prince of Primewood.”

“He also woke up wrapped in daisies,” I point out.

Galinor grins at the memory. “That he did.”

I struggle for something to say, but my mind is oddly blank. It’s easier to forget Galinor is a prince when we are riding together and I don’t have to look at him.

It’s hard to forget now.

Expensive silver threads weave through the dark blue tunic he wears over his lightweight chain mail shirt. His sword is sheathed at his side, and his bow and quiver are on his back. He looks very royal.

And very formidable.

He would be intimidating if it weren’t for his pleasant face.

He looks ahead, and I steal glances at him.

He’s almost too perfect. He has no scars, no birthmarks.

His eyebrows are dark and high, but they aren’t too full or too close together.

His cheeks bones are distinguished, and he has just a hint of dimples when he smiles wide.

Not that he smiles like that very often. Maybe he did before the tournament?

He’s tall, too, and strong. Absurdly beautiful.

Galinor notices me staring at him. “You have an odd look on your face, Anwen. What are you thinking?”

His question takes me by surprise, and my cheeks heat.

I rip my gaze forward, focusing on the road ahead of us, and change the subject. “Where do you suppose Dimitri has led his troupe?”

The prince doesn’t look happy with my question. “Tracking this man down—it’s about the changeling stone, isn’t it? It’s not because… ”

His unspoken words hang between us, making the air uncomfortable and hard to breathe.

“Is it so impossible to think he might care for me?” I demand. “That all this was a great misunderstanding?”

His face darkens. “He robbed you, Anwen. That was no accident.”

I notice he doesn’t answer the first part of my question, and my spirits sink.

Though I may not be as beautiful as Pippa, I know I’m not unattractive.

In most ways, I’m very pleased with my appearance.

But why else would Dimitri leave me? Why wasn’t I good enough?

If it’s not my looks, then it’s just me he didn’t want.

I’m not sure I’m ready to face that.

“I know you don’t think it best, but I honestly believe you should go home,” Galinor says, voicing his opinion yet again.

“If I were Pippa, would you think me incapable of retrieving the stone?”