The Rebel Prince Read Free Page A

quietly. ‘It feel bad. We should to go around.’
    Úlfnaor exchanged a look with Razi, who curtly shook his head. ‘I say we cross.’
    The Aoire nodded. ‘Then we cross,’ he said. ‘Wari, Coinín, Soma and Frangok will to watch our back while we pass over. Then follow when all is well.’ At Sólmundr’s disapproving look, Úlfnaor sighed. ‘Time grow short, Sól. We not risk changing our route. We trust judgement of Tabiyb. We cross here .’
    Sólmundr glowered at Razi, who kept his eyes ahead, his face devoid of expression as he waited. After a moment, Sólmundr grunted his reluctant assent. Commands were given in Merron, and the guarding party drew their bows.
    Wynter met Christopher’s eye as he loaded his crossbow.
    ‘I’m warning you, lass,’ he said solemnly. ‘If we get to the other side with no holes in us, I’m stealing seven Protector Lady Moorehawke kisses.’
    He looked so sure of himself, so gravely confident and alive, that Wynter had to reach across the gap between their horses and take a fistful of his tunic. Smiling slightly, he let her pull him to her, and she pressed her lips to his, hard and fierce and protective. They stayed close at the kiss’s ending, their foreheads touching, their eyes half-closed.
    ‘You stay safe,’ she whispered.
    ‘If I do, you’ll owe me six more of those.’
    She smiled. ‘Come across in one piece, Freeman, and I may just grant you more than kisses.’
    His cheeks dimpled as his own smile grew. ‘So many promises to keep,’ he murmured.
    They kissed again, the horses shifting beneath them. Then Wynter drew away, covered her face and, without looking back, pulled into formation with the advance party as they urged their horses into the glare of the late evening sun.

    Glad to be free of the claustrophobic forest, the warhounds bounded ahead of their masters, their tongues lolling, their great tails lashing the air with joy. The Merron kept their eyes on them. When, halfway across the clearing, the enormous creatures abruptly stopped their happy exploring and froze, Úlfnaor immediately lifted his arm, and the advance party brought their mounts to a wary halt.
    The warhounds lowered their heads, their attention focused on the forest ahead. Suddenly Boro howled and leapt forward, barking wildly at the trees. The other hounds followed suit.
    Spooked by the dogs’ violent barking, Wynter’s horse threw his head and tried to turn back. Wynter sat down hard in the saddle.
    ‘Hold easy, Ozkar!’ she hissed.
    Out of sight in the trees ahead, another horse whickered in fear, and Wynter scanned the shadows, searching for the riders she now knew were hidden there.
    At Úlfnaor’s command, the warhounds came reluctantly to stand by the horses, where they milled in place, still barking. The noise was deafening.
    ‘ Ciúnas! ’ yelled Sólmundr, and the dogs instantly ceased their baying. Whining, they paced before their masters, their eyes fixed on the dark trees.
    The forest ahead remained silent, the shadows impenetrable to Wynter’s sun-blasted eyes. All around her, the Merron sat in tense expectation. She had no doubt that at that very moment, hidden in the trees behind her, Christopher was drawing the lever on his crossbow. She resisted the urge to look back over her shoulder and tried not to imagine the whine of arrows flying through the air, nor the dull thud of them hitting home. She forced the memory of blood-laden water and dead bodies from her mind and inhaled the breeze for the telltale scent of slow-match. There was none. Good. At least no one in the trees was aiming a cannon at them. That was some small mercy.
    To her right, Razi ducked his head and discreetly pulled his scarf higher on his face. Wynter blessed the glaring sunshine that had caused them all to tug their hats low, and the swarms of flies that made covering their faces seem less furtive. When Razi again straightened in his saddle, she was pleased to see that the combination of