Petra of the Shazastar is a thief on the run from an unforgettable past. But, like all thieves, her luck cannot last forever. When she is caught, she's given a choice: either face execution or become the fortune teller to the Mad Queen.
Not surpri...
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I DO NOT HEAR THE thundering hooves until they are nearly upon me.
"Move!"
I am thrown upon my back onto some shrubbery. There, looming over me, nostrils flaring, eyes glaring, is none other than Notte Ombre himself, the demon horse. His gold eyes fixate on me, and his steaming breath flutters before me. Horses do not eat people of that I am sure, however, staring at the large black demon makes me second guess all sense of reason. I reach out a hesitant hand.
"There, there crazy horse. It's me, Petra. We've met before. In the barn. Back in Florentia."
Does he find my scent familiar? Notte Ombre continues to study me with a look all too familiar of his master's, half disregard half narrow eyed- suspicion. He huffs and turns away, haughty and mighty – leaving me awkwardly sprawled and rejected once again. But not for long. A gloved hand lightly holds my own and pulls me to my feet.
"Is it your wish to be killed by me!"
It is a beautiful morning; the sky a splash of lavender and pink and orange, with clouds that promise a hint of rain. The sounds of the forest are nothing more than pathetic attempts to drown out the drumming in my ears. For despite all the beauty around me, it is one color that has me captivated, the silver of his eyes, and the scrutiny of his glare.
He stands before me, his hair tousled from his ride. His white shirt sweaty and his exposed skin tanned from his time outdoors, and I – despite all my warning and apprehension – I cannot help the fluttering inside me.
I do not wish to be killed by you, Giovanni. I want to be ... I want... I wish to be ...
I swallow my pitiful feelings down and look away, before I ruin everything by letting my heart, my betraying heart speak for me.
I feel his steely gaze sweeping me from head to toe. "From the looks of it, you've been out here all night."
Stop acting so pathetic, Petra! Get a hold of yourself!
Still clasping his hand in my mine, I take a step toward him. Not caring if this is a mistake, only that I must regain some sort of semblance of control; I want to prove to myself that I can do as I like with him around. He does not move as I stand a breath away from him. The only shift in his demeanor is a small smile upon his lips.
"Do you ask because you are curious or suspicious, signore?"
He shrugs, feigning disregard. "A little bit of both I suppose."
In the back of my mind I know I should not be this close to him, not in a place as secluded as this, not in a morning as beautiful as this –
"I was awakened by the Zingari," I whisper. My mouth close to his ear, so close I smell horses, sun and life. So close my lips brush the breeze that swirls through his hair. So close ... "Taken to the forest where I spent the night conjuring magic and dancing, dancing to the most beautiful music I have heard in my all my travels."
