His Hidden Desire (18+)

Chapter 14

Danaë was sitting in the library, reading a book on the trade that brought riches and foreign luxuries to these lands.

The Northern Col had for centuries been the fastest pass through the mountains and into the spice-rich lands of the Majid Nation. The wealth of Cenric's kingdom had been built by controlling the Col, and to this day merchant traders paying for safe passage kept his treasury full.

Curled up on a plush chaise lounge, Danaë blinked dazedly, willing her eyes to focus on the dry prose.

The author, some long-dead academic, had not possessed any particular talent with words, and slogging through his endless, meandering paragraphs was draining her energy. Moreover, trying to decipher the antiquated spelling and writing style had a headache forming at her temples.

Shifting slightly, she winced, feeling the accumulated aches and pains from Godric's sadistic training.

Did he notice?

Her eyes flew up, darting toward Cenric.

He didn't know – as far as he was aware, Godric was merely working to increase her stamina, running her through agility training and calisthenics.

She hadn't told him about the lecherous stares, the crude comments, and the deliberate cruelty masked by the guise of "training".

Not wanting to alarm him, Danaë had endured this treatment in silence.

After a lifetime of being the most pampered girl in the Empire, she bristled at the thought of letting Godric win so easily...

I can handle this myself.

Never mind that weeks had passed, and she had yet to make a move to defend herself from his sneering contempt.

Glancing across the room, Danaë eyed the large desk where Cenric sorted through his correspondence.

"How are you finding your book, Princess?"

Tucking her legs beneath her, Danaë answered, "Informative."

"And by that I assume you mean, 'unbearably dull'?"

With a slight grin, she answered, "It can be both."

"Well, would you like some good news?"

"Oh?" Setting the book aside, Danaë let her curiosity lead her to stand over his shoulder.

Cenric looked up, a sheaf of folded parchment in his hand, "Nikolaj sent an invitation."

"Really?" Her curious eyes scanned over the document, catching snippets of the message.

"It would be his honor to host a state visit."

Excitement and dread hummed along her spine. As an ally, this man could be their first line of defense against Maxson.

But, if he sided with Maxson...

Fear, sharp and searing, arrowed through her chest.

Covering it with a smile, she asked, "When do we leave?"

The sun was approaching its zenith overhead as the scent of sweat and horses filled Danaë's nostrils.

The mare beneath her was allegedly sweet tempered and had accepted the added weight of its rider readily enough – but Danaë sat uneasy in the saddle, anxiously cataloguing every movement of the beast beneath her.

"Isolde?"

The sound of her assumed name pulled her out of her thoughts. Turning to the man next to her, she asked, "Yes?"

Cenric, disguised as a lowly attendant whispered, "You should relax. Horses can smell fear."

Her grip on the pommel tightened, and she glared at him. "Oh, thank you – that's just what I needed to hear."

"Just breathe, my Lady; we'll be stopping to rest soon."

At the moment, 'we' included their entire travelling party; the guards, the servants and the decoy...

Why did he have to come?

Danaë shot a quick glare toward the front of the procession, where Godric rode Cenric's stallion, smug in his borrowed finery.

Swallowing her dislike, a humbly dressed Danaë turned to Cenric, chiding, "You shouldn't call me 'my Lady' – what if a bandit overhears you?"

Cenric chuckled, "I do appreciate your caution, but I also wish you'd try to relax."

Pressing her lips into a thin line, Danaë glanced around them at the densely packed trees.

The road they followed was aggressively patrolled by both Cenric and Nikolaj's forces. Any marauders foolish enough to rob travelers soon learned the fatal error of their ways.

Still.

An unsettled queasiness rumbled in her stomach.

Perhaps it was the memory of her desperate, solitary trek along this route, still vibrant with bleak isolation and mortal terror.

Perhaps it was the less than appetizing breakfast she'd forced down this morning.

Perhaps... perhaps it was something more.

"I'll relax when we stop for the night." Their destination for this day's travel was one of the regularly spaced inns along the road, ready to fill their stomachs and rest their weary bones.

With any luck, this one would have a cook that was more adept in the kitchen...

Cenric's smile turned lascivious. "Oh, you'll relax; I'll make sure of it."

"Wh-" Danaë began before cutting off almost immediately, her imagination supplying her with visions of how he might make her relax.

Ears ringing with his sensual promise, Danaë tried to focus on the road ahead, her blush burning like the midday sun.