Page 32 of Reaper’s Ruin (Reaper’s Ruin Trilogy #1)
“I must say, Lady Soraya, your entrance to court society has been most dramatic. First saving our prince’s brother, and now joining the royal hunt? You’re the talk of Thunderspire.”
“Careful, Destan,” Prince Alaric laughed. “You’ll scare her away with your forward manner.”
“Never,” Lord Destan replied with a wink directed at me. “I merely appreciate beauty and bravery when I see it. ”
I felt rather than saw Rhyker’s displeasure radiating beside me like a physical force.
“Speaking of the hunt,” Alaric said, glancing at the assembled party, “we should mount up. The prey awaits.”
He turned to us, a sudden realization crossing his face. “Do you have mounts? I didn’t think to ask if you brought any.”
“We arrived by carriage,” Rhyker said smoothly. “No mounts.”
Alaric nodded. “Then you must borrow from our stables.” He signaled to a stable master. “Bring Silverstreak and Moonshadow for our guests.”
My heart leaped with excitement even as my stomach knotted with anxiety. I was going to ride a Stormsteed!
Then reality hit. I was going to ride a Stormsteed.
I’d ridden regular horses a few times at summer camp as a kid, but these were magical creatures with wings. What if I fell off? What if it sensed I wasn’t fae?
The stable master returned leading two magnificent Stormsteeds. One was silver with blue-tipped feathers, the other a deep blue-black that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
“Silverstreak for Lady Soraya,” Alaric said, gesturing to the lighter-colored mount. “She has a gentle disposition, perfect for a lady rider.”
I approached cautiously, my hand outstretched. The Stormsteed lowered her head, allowing me to stroke her neck. Her feathers felt like silk beneath my fingers.
Rhyker mounted his Stormsteed with effortless grace, looking as if he’d been born to ride such creatures.
The sight of him astride the powerful mount, his body moving in perfect harmony with the creature’s, sent an inappropriate flutter through my chest. How was it possible for someone to look that good doing literally anything?
I turned my attention back to Silverstreak, who was watching me with intelligent silver eyes. I’d need to play it cool, act like I knew what I was doing. Like I was used to riding magical feathered horse-bird hybrids with wings.
Right. No problem.
With as much confidence as I could muster, I placed my foot in the stirrup and swung myself up into the saddle. To my relief, Silverstreak remained perfectly still, as if sensing my nervousness and compensating for it.
“Well done,” Rhyker murmured as he guided his mount alongside mine. “Just relax and let her do the work. These creatures are intelligent enough to follow the group without much direction.”
“Easy for you to say,” I whispered back. “You look like you were born in the saddle.”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I’ve had some experience with riding.”
The hunting party assembled, with Prince Alaric and Princess Ravenna at the front, followed by various nobles. Rhyker and I rode near the middle of the group as we set out from the castle, following a path that wound up into the foothills of the mountain.
As we rode, I noticed two noblemen riding slightly ahead of us, deep in conversation with the queen.
I studied them from behind, noting the way the princess seemed to defer to the one on the left, a tall man with broad shoulders and an air of authority. As if sensing my gaze, he turned slightly in his saddle.
My heart stopped. The world around me blurred at the edges.
Those eyes. I would recognize them anywhere. Cold. Calculating. The last thing I’d seen as life drained from my body.
This was him. The man who had plunged a dagger into my chest. Who had murdered my mother in cold blood. Who had stolen our futures without a moment’s hesitation .
Every muscle in my body went rigid. My lungs forgot how to draw breath. A wave of memories crashed over me—my mother’s scream echoing through our home, the strange symbols glowing on the blade, the clinical detachment in those eyes as he’d driven the dagger deeper.
“Nothing personal,” he’d said, watching the life drain from me.
Hot, violent rage surged through me, followed immediately by a cold, paralyzing fear. I gripped Silverstreak’s reins so tightly my knuckles turned white, fighting the urge to scream or flee or charge forward and knock him from his mount. My entire body trembled with barely controlled emotion.
“Soraya? What is it?” Rhyker’s voice barely penetrated the roaring in my ears.
I couldn’t speak. Could only manage a small jerk of my chin toward my murderer.
Rhyker’s gaze followed mine, and in an instant, understanding darkened his features. I watched as fury transformed his face—his jaw clenching, his eyes hardening to deadly steel. For a moment, raw, murderous intent radiated from him like heat from a flame.
Then, with a control that spoke of centuries of discipline, he masked it behind a lordly veneer of indifference. But his eyes—those storm-gray eyes—held a promise of violence that sent a shiver down my spine.
His hand reached for mine, squeezing once. The touch anchored me, pulled me back from the edge of blind panic or reckless action.
I swallowed back the tears that threatened to spill, forcing myself to breathe evenly. Now wasn’t the time to fall apart. We were close—so close to answers, to understanding, to justice. I needed to pull myself together.
The man’s gaze swept over our group, pausing briefly on me before moving on, no recognition in those cold eyes. Of course not. To him, I had been nothing but a task, a target, an obstacle to be removed.
The other man turned as well, offering a friendly nod. Unlike the one who’d plunged a dagger in my chest, his eyes were kind, his expression genuinely warm.
I sat taller in my saddle, squaring my shoulders. I would not show fear. I would not break. Not now. Not when we were so close.
“Your first time in the high forests, Lady Soraya?” Prince Alaric asked, dropping back to ride beside me, much to Rhyker’s obvious displeasure.
“Yes,” I admitted, figuring this was safe enough. “It’s beautiful.”
“And bountiful,” he added with a smile. “The royal hunt before a coronation is tradition. As King, it is my duty to provide the feast that will feed my people. A symbol that I will care for them during my reign.”
“What are we hunting exactly?” I asked.
“Storm elk,” Lord Destan answered, maneuvering his mount to my other side. “Their meat is considered the finest delicacy in the Storm Court. We’ll serve it at the feast tonight.”
“That is if I can get one,” Alaric said, making a sheepish face. “I’m not the most skilled hunter I’ll admit.”
Wanting to ensure we got to stick close to him and his mother and the man who’d killed me, I quickly offered, “Lord Rhyker is an excellent hunter. I’m sure he’d be happy to stick by you and give you some tips.”
Rhyker didn’t shoot me a look this time as if he understood my intent.
Alaric’s face lit up. “That would be much appreciated, Lord Rhyker. No heir to the throne has come back empty handed, and I’ll take all the help I can get to make sure I’m not the first. ”
“My pleasure,” Rhyker answered Alaric, though his eyes remained pinned on my murderer like he could burn a hole straight through the back of his head.
The party continued upward until we reached a clearing where Alaric called for everyone to split into smaller groups to cover more ground. As the nobles divided themselves, I noticed our target breaking away with only a single guard for company.
Rhyker saw it too. “Let’s follow,” he murmured. “Hang back enough that they won’t notice immediately.”
We allowed several other groups to move off before guiding our Stormsteeds in the direction he’d taken. Rhyker led the way, his body tense with anticipation, while I followed, my heart hammering in my chest.
“What’s the plan exactly?” I whispered when we were well away from the others.
“We observe first,” he replied. “When the moment is right, I’ll take care of the guard. Then we get our answers from the man who killed you.”
The path narrowed as we descended into a wooded ravine. Ahead, I caught glimpses of his silver-trimmed hunting jacket through the trees. We maintained our distance, careful not to make too much noise.
Suddenly, Lord Destan rode up quickly, slightly out of breath. “Lord Rhyker! Prince Alaric sent me to find you. A massive storm elk bull has been spotted—rack like a lightning rod, the kind of trophy that makes legends. He says you are a skilled hunter and can help ensure his success?”
Rhyker glanced at me then shook his head. “I don’t think I should leave her unattended. And Lady Soraya isn’t a strong enough rider to gallop after a storm elk in pursuit,” Rhyker said, his tone making it clear this wasn’t up for discussion .
Lord Destan’s face brightened as he turned to me with that roguish smile. “Well then, since His Highness insisted you join him, I’d be more than happy to keep the lovely Lady Soraya company while you assist the hunt. I promise to be a most attentive companion.” He winked at me.
Rhyker seemed to grow several inches, his jaw clenching as he stared down the younger lord.
“I’ll be fine alone,” I said quickly, before Rhyker could do something we’d regret—like throw Lord Destan off his Stormsteed. “The woods are safe, are they not?”
Lord Destan’s face fell. “Well, yes, but I don’t mind staying behind to escort you on a leisurely ride.”
“Nonsense,” I said, batting my eyelashes. “You men must go on your hunt. I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of your...” I searched for the word and landed on, “manliness.” Then I cringed as it came out. “You know. Guy stuff. Go. Both of you. I’ll be fine.”
Rhyker gave me a look that would have grumbled if it came with sound.
Lord Destan’s gaze flicked to my partially exposed breasts for just a moment, and I was certain Rhyker was going to leap off his Stormsteed if he moved even an inch closer to me.