Page 2 of Pippa of Lauramore (The Eldentimber #1)

P oor Galinor.

He looks a little nervous.

“There’s a cave about twenty minutes from here,” I say. “It’s spectacular at night. Let’s sneak away, and I’ll take you there.”

“How can a cave be spectacular at night?”

“You just have to see it. I could explain, but it would ruin the surprise.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Princess.”

“Please?” I set my hand over his. “It’s the only chance I’ll get to show you.”

I’m already buzzing with excitement. There’s nothing better than a nighttime ride through the woods.

“King Ewan wouldn’t like it.” Galinor gives me a wry smile that tells me he has a little more sense than I first thought.

“We’ll slip away and be back before the celebration is over. We’ll be gone an hour at the most. ”

“Princess—”

“Pippa,” I correct him.

Galinor tilts his head, and moonlight casts shadows on his face. He turns his hand under mine, and our palms meet. My breath catches in my throat.

“Pippa,” he says, his voice a little husky. “It’s not a good idea.”

I shake my head. “It is a good idea. It’s my eighteenth birthday, and this very well could be my last night of freedom. Did you know I had to beg for this tournament?”

He shakes his head and wraps his fingers around mine.

“They want me to marry Lionel. Are you acquainted with him?” Galinor’s nose wrinkles, but I cut him off before he can answer. “Exactly. What if he wins? Then this will be the last beautiful night of freedom I will have to remember. Share a sliver of it with me.”

The prince looks like he’s going to argue, but then our eyes meet. I know he will go with me.

“All right,” he finally agrees.

“Yes?” I bounce on my toes.

Galinor smiles, shaking his head. “I still think it’s a bad idea.

I pull him up by his hand. “It will be fine—you’ll see.”

I would assure him more, but sometimes even the best of plans have a way of going awry. But what can go wrong when everyone is in the great hall? It will be easier to slip away now than it’s ever been.

The stables are quiet except for the occasional horse whinny. A few heads pop over the stalls to see who we are and what we’re doing, but for the most part, the horses ignore us.

“There should be guards posted here,” Galinor says as we make our way through the aisles to the back where my horse is kept.

We brush past several bales of hay. My nose tickles, and I resist the urge to sneeze.

“Why?” I try to look ladylike as I rub my nose with the back of my hand.

He looks at me as if I were a naive child. “Errintonian bandits, thieves…”

“We don’t have much trouble here,” I say with a shrug.

We stop in front of a fine palomino mare. Her coat is glossy, and her mane and tail have been braided. The stable boys have done well with my Willowisp.

“She’s beautiful,” Galinor says.

The horse prances, eager to be off.

“She’s fast, too.” I give him a wicked smile, and he raises his eyebrows in surprise.

I wait for him to admonish me, but instead, he motions to the next aisle. “My horse is this way.”

Willowisp and I follow him.

Once we’ve collected his bay stallion, we saddle our horses without speaking. Only now are we in much danger of being caught. If we were found earlier, I could have said I was checking on Willowisp. If we’re found now, with saddles on our horses, there’s not much chance anyone will believe me.

I freeze when I hear a board creak, and Galinor does the same. We wait for several moments but hear nothing else. Just as I turn back to my horse, a soft woof comes from behind me, startling me so much, I jump.

One of the hunting dogs watches us. She’s large, her head comes to my waist, and she’s covered in soft red fur. Her tail curls up behind her, and it wags when I meet her warm brown eyes.

I laugh, holding my hand over my racing heart.

“We’re going for a ride, sweet girl,” I coo at her, holding out my other hand. “You won’t tell on us, will you, darling?”

“Pippa,” a warning voice says from down the next hall.

I bite my lip and resist the urge to curse. Of course, he’d be with her—she’s one of his dogs. I straighten and wait for the owner of the voice to turn the corner. Galinor steps next to me, though he looks like he would rather shrink away.

I scowl at Archer when our eyes meet. He doesn’t look too amused with me, either. He’s changed clothes since I saw him in the great hall, and he no longer wears that carefree expression that intrigued me.

What was that, an hour ago? What’s he doing here? The celebration will go on for half the night.

Tall himself, he’s still a few inches shorter than Galinor, but he’s certainly more imposing. There’s iron in his lean and muscular archer’s body, and if anyone knows how deadly he is, it’s me.

“I’m going,” I say.

He shakes his head, his blue-green eyes hard. “You’re not. ”

I leave Galinor’s side and step up to Archer. “You are not in the position to tell me what to do.”

The words feel like acid on my tongue. I don’t like to remind him of the chasm in our friendship.

We pretend it’s not there, but it’s always underneath the tenuous bridge we’ve built.

I didn’t notice as much when we were young, when he was more Percival and Alexander’s friend than mine, but the older we get, the farther apart our stations seem.

His mouth tips up, and his eyes soften for a moment. Then they harden again. “No.”

I gape at him.

He arches a light brown brow, waiting for my response.

It’s a look that would make most girls simper.

That’s the problem with Archer—he’s so handsome it’s disconcerting.

This simple fact irritates me more than anything else about him because it’s such a waste.

That degree of perfection belongs on someone who is quick to smile and longs for romance—not on a difficult and stubborn man who refuses to let me charm him into getting my own way.

“Please, Archer,” I say, letting my voice drop to a whisper. “One last hour of freedom. You know this may all end with Lionel in my future.”

He takes a deep breath, lets his eyes drop away, and then slowly exhales. “Where are you going?”

The relief is instant, and my smile comes easily. “The cave.”

He turns to Galinor. “You will bring her back in one hour, or I will come after you myself,” he says, his voice as cold and demanding as any prince .

Galinor narrows his eyes, probably realizing he shouldn’t be taking orders from this man, but then thinks better of it and nods.

Wise decision.

“Thank you, Archer,” I say.

“One hour.”

“Don’t tell.” I rush back to Willowisp.

Archer nods once, agreeing though he still doesn’t look happy about it.

“No,” I say as I mount Willowisp. “ Promise me. ”

Our eyes meet. “I swear to you, Pippa. I will tell no one.”

We slip out the back of the stables and go through the rear palace gate. Very few use it because it’s always locked.

Luckily, I have a key.

We pass through the mountain meadows where sheep graze and livestock dogs keep watch. There are usually shepherd children with them, but tonight they are in the great hall. Neither the sheep nor the dogs care that we’re sneaking away.

I laugh in the moonlight, reveling in how easy this is.

The ornate copper gown Mother made for the evening is now a tangled mess, and the wispy layers of skirt fly behind me.

Riding in a gown is a nuisance, but tonight nothing can dampen my enthusiasm—not even anticipating the look of horror on Mother’s face when she sees the mud-caked hem and pulled stitches .

Soon we’re in the forest, safe away from the main road, and the night sounds soothe me. It was a close call with Archer. I’m surprised he let me go. We both know he could have marched my wayward self right back into the great hall.

“Do you trust the man?” Galinor speaks for the first time since we’ve left.

I nod. “Oh, yes. He’s a bit of a killjoy, but he’s not a liar.”

“Who is he?”

“He’s the master archer.” I glance at him, wondering how the prince will handle the news that he has taken orders from a mere archer. “And my archery instructor.”

He seems satisfied with my answer. “You call him by his title instead of his name?”

I shrug. “I’ve never heard him called anything else.”

The rest of the ride is quiet. Willowisp is familiar with the trail, and she flies across it. Galinor must concentrate to keep up with us.

In the distance, there is a sharp, bone-chilling screech.

“What was that?” Galinor asks, startled.

“Mountain cat,” I say automatically. And even though I know I’m right, I can’t help but wonder if it’s a glasseln.

There hasn’t been a full-grown one spotted in years. There was an abandoned litter of cubs found when I was ten or so. After much discussion, they were left to die. The sweet little things were soft and fuzzy, and they looked just like cuddly barn kittens. At the time, I was furious.

Now I know better…I know what they grow up to be .

“Are they dangerous?” Galinor asks, speaking of mountain cats and not the deadly glasselns.

I glance at him. The steel at his side glints in the moonlight.

“You have a sword,” I say as I nudge my mare to go faster. “We’re fine.”

Galinor’s stallion doesn’t like the long, stair-stepped paths cut into the earth, but Willowisp glides over the last terrace with speed. We’re lower now, and the terrain evens out. The woods are thick here, and the forest is alive with the scurrying of small nighttime creatures.

“Almost there,” I call to him and turn off the path to follow a small deer trail.

“Princess Pippa, are you sure about this?” Galinor eyes my path with suspicion.

“Positive.”

The cave is just around this last grove of trees. Our path opens to a meadow backed by a rocky incline, and there, in the moonlight, is the mouth of my cave. If I didn’t know better, it would look foreboding.

I hop off Willowisp and tie her to a tree, making sure to give her a spot with plenty of soft, tall grass.

Galinor dismounts as well, but at a much slower pace, eyeing the opening in the rock face. “This is your cave?”

He doesn’t seem impressed.