to
linger on Anca’s breasts for a moment longer than was comfortable. She stood
up, and the moment passed.
Anca
jumped when Nikia slapped the riding crop against her leg. “I should warn you
I’ve never been riding before.”
“I’m
not surprised.” Nikia shook her head. “I’ve heard your childhood
was…impoverished.”
She
stiffened at the comment. “We didn’t live in a castle, but we managed just
fine.”
A
simpering smile curved across Nikia’s face as she lifted a basket from the desk.
“Of course you did. Still, it’s a pity you weren’t here in Corsova, where you
belonged.” She licked her lips. “I would have welcomed the opportunity to know
you.”
“Er,
thanks.” Anca was at a loss as to answering her sister. She followed Nikia
silently from the study and through a twisting maze of rooms and hallways. As
they left the castle through an entrance around the back, she asked, “Did you
know about me?”
“Of
course. I was six when Katrine abandoned Papa.”
She
frowned at Nikia’s stiff tone. “Were you and Mother close?”
Nikia
shrugged, letting that be her answer. She shifted the basket to her other hand
and tucked the crop under her arm as they rounded the castle.
Anca
caught her breath as Nikia swung open a gate and they emerged into a meadow. The
lush grass was a brilliant green, and conifers towered over them. As they
walked past one, she couldn’t resist touching the rough bark of the tree.
“These trees must be ancient.” The trunk was twice as wide as she was.
Nikia
turned her head slightly. She sounded disinterested when she said, “Several
hundred years old, in fact. Corsova has one of the largest areas of trees left
from times when most forests were decimated to build buildings and create
farmland. Wait until we ride into the mountains. Even larger trees are common,
and the weald grows so thickly one could easily lose their way.”
“How
did these trees manage to avoid getting cut down?”
“Corsova
has remained untouched by the outside world, for the most part. Even in the
country’s infancy, our people kept our borders sealed.” She shrugged. “It is
our way. We don’t like outsiders.”
Anca
frowned as she caught a hint of warning in Nikia’s voice. Was this outing just
an opportunity for Nikia to warn her away from Corsova and her supposed
rightful place as queen? She could save her breath, and Anca would tell her
that if she brought up the subject. “I see.”
Soon,
they approached a building larger than Anca’s entire block in New York. A clear
stain preserved the natural beauty of the weathered wood. A faint scent of
manure wafted through the air as they neared the two open wooden doors.
Before
they even stepped inside, a young man came rushing out of the dim interior of
the stables. He bowed at the waist to Nikia, and then bowed even lower—if that
was possible—to Anca. “Your Highnesses,” he said in a hushed tone.
“Emil,
we wish to ride.” Nikia seemed unaware of the innate haughtiness in her tone.
“Saddle Brutus for me. Pigeon will do for Anca, since she has never ridden
before.”
He
hurried to obey her commands.
Anca
followed him into the stables, aware of Nikia trailing behind her. She looked
down the aisle, trying to guess how many stalls the huge room held. She guessed
at least fifteen on each side of the aisle, with those closest to her all
occupied.
She stopped
at the nearest stall and eyed the chestnut standing there. The horse’s brown
eyes seemed to be examining her with equal interest, before it tossed its head,
sending its blond mane flowing around its head.
“Rachel,”
Nikia said. She clicked her tongue, and the mare pressed herself against the
stall. She caressed Rachel’s ears, and the horse whinnied. She turned her head
in Anca’s direction. “It is quite safe to touch her. She won’t hurt you.”
Anca
was reluctant to reach out for the horse, though she didn’t think Rachel would
hurt her. The mare seemed
linger on Anca’s breasts for a moment longer than was comfortable. She stood
up, and the moment passed.
Anca
jumped when Nikia slapped the riding crop against her leg. “I should warn you
I’ve never been riding before.”
“I’m
not surprised.” Nikia shook her head. “I’ve heard your childhood
was…impoverished.”
She
stiffened at the comment. “We didn’t live in a castle, but we managed just
fine.”
A
simpering smile curved across Nikia’s face as she lifted a basket from the desk.
“Of course you did. Still, it’s a pity you weren’t here in Corsova, where you
belonged.” She licked her lips. “I would have welcomed the opportunity to know
you.”
“Er,
thanks.” Anca was at a loss as to answering her sister. She followed Nikia
silently from the study and through a twisting maze of rooms and hallways. As
they left the castle through an entrance around the back, she asked, “Did you
know about me?”
“Of
course. I was six when Katrine abandoned Papa.”
She
frowned at Nikia’s stiff tone. “Were you and Mother close?”
Nikia
shrugged, letting that be her answer. She shifted the basket to her other hand
and tucked the crop under her arm as they rounded the castle.
Anca
caught her breath as Nikia swung open a gate and they emerged into a meadow. The
lush grass was a brilliant green, and conifers towered over them. As they
walked past one, she couldn’t resist touching the rough bark of the tree.
“These trees must be ancient.” The trunk was twice as wide as she was.
Nikia
turned her head slightly. She sounded disinterested when she said, “Several
hundred years old, in fact. Corsova has one of the largest areas of trees left
from times when most forests were decimated to build buildings and create
farmland. Wait until we ride into the mountains. Even larger trees are common,
and the weald grows so thickly one could easily lose their way.”
“How
did these trees manage to avoid getting cut down?”
“Corsova
has remained untouched by the outside world, for the most part. Even in the
country’s infancy, our people kept our borders sealed.” She shrugged. “It is
our way. We don’t like outsiders.”
Anca
frowned as she caught a hint of warning in Nikia’s voice. Was this outing just
an opportunity for Nikia to warn her away from Corsova and her supposed
rightful place as queen? She could save her breath, and Anca would tell her
that if she brought up the subject. “I see.”
Soon,
they approached a building larger than Anca’s entire block in New York. A clear
stain preserved the natural beauty of the weathered wood. A faint scent of
manure wafted through the air as they neared the two open wooden doors.
Before
they even stepped inside, a young man came rushing out of the dim interior of
the stables. He bowed at the waist to Nikia, and then bowed even lower—if that
was possible—to Anca. “Your Highnesses,” he said in a hushed tone.
“Emil,
we wish to ride.” Nikia seemed unaware of the innate haughtiness in her tone.
“Saddle Brutus for me. Pigeon will do for Anca, since she has never ridden
before.”
He
hurried to obey her commands.
Anca
followed him into the stables, aware of Nikia trailing behind her. She looked
down the aisle, trying to guess how many stalls the huge room held. She guessed
at least fifteen on each side of the aisle, with those closest to her all
occupied.
She stopped
at the nearest stall and eyed the chestnut standing there. The horse’s brown
eyes seemed to be examining her with equal interest, before it tossed its head,
sending its blond mane flowing around its head.
“Rachel,”
Nikia said. She clicked her tongue, and the mare pressed herself against the
stall. She caressed Rachel’s ears, and the horse whinnied. She turned her head
in Anca’s direction. “It is quite safe to touch her. She won’t hurt you.”
Anca
was reluctant to reach out for the horse, though she didn’t think Rachel would
hurt her. The mare seemed
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