The King's Cursed Bride

Going on an Adventure

            

The Next Day

Carissa swore, and her lady-in-waiting stifled a gasp. It seemed her breakfast with Elon would have to wait after all.

She'd thought her schedule was clear this morning, but she'd forgotten she'd told Lady Dara she'd join her for breakfast—and to talk about her town's defenses for when the Reapers came.

"Tervalyn, would you inform King Elon I won't be able to join him this morning? Something's come up."

Her lady-in-waiting dipped into a curtsey. "Of course." She scurried out of the room, likely worried swearing was contagious.

Carissa stretched her neck to one side, then the other. She'd barely woken up, and was already inundated with appointments. She squinted at the schedule she'd written out for the day, with back-to-back meetings, socials, meals, and etiquette lessons.

She'd find a way to squeeze time for Elon in. Somehow.

***

"Back straighter. And shift your jaw forward—you wouldn't want people to think you had an overbite."

Carissa did as told. Her last lesson had been on dining etiquette. Today's lesson was on sitting—of all things. But a rather blunt lady had recently informed Carissa she sat like a commoner. At least that problem would be fixed after today.

Her etiquette teacher, Rigada, nodded approvingly. After asking around, the nobles had informed Carissa no one taught etiquette better than she. She was renowned for making ladies out of even the most uncivilized.

Though Rigada's gray-streaked brown hair was always scraped back into a painfully tight bun, it always managed to frizz around her head after a few minutes. "Lift your chin, or your jawline will look indistinct from the side."

Carissa tilted her chin a notch upward.

"Quite good. We'll make a majestic lady of you yet."

"She's already a majestic lady, in my opinion."

Both Carissa and Rigada turned. Elon was leaning against the doorframe. He was dressed in common clothes, with a fitted green shirt, dark gray trousers, and brown boots. It was a good look for him—somehow, he looked wilder, freer.

Rigada sniffed and slapped her rod into her hand. The rod was three feet of wood, and though she waved it threateningly at times, she'd never used it. "Your opinion is hardly the one that matters."

Carissa cleared her throat. "Actually, his opinion is the only one that matters."

When Rigada shot her a heated look of censure, Carissa realized the woman hadn't recognized Elon without his royal adornments. "It's really inappropriate for you to speak thus."

Elon snorted. "And it's inappropriate for you to address the Queen thus."

Rigada whirled back to face him. "Insolent servant. Have you any idea who I am?"

A grin spread across his face. With his cheeks dimpled and slightly flushed, he appeared more boyish than usual. "You know, I could ask you the same thing." Rigada began to sputter, but he held up a finger. "Now, I'm going to teach you a lesson on how to properly address the Queen."

A livid red ignited the Rigada's face. "Teach me? How dare—"

Elon's gaze was only for Carissa, and Rigada's next words melted into background noise. Elon strode towards her with a confidence that made her heart skip against her chest.

Carissa tried—and failed—to suppress a blush. He was just speaking to her, just looking at her. There was no need to get so flustered.

He knelt in front of her. "Your highness?"

"Yes?" Her voice was a slip of a thing—low in volume, high in pitch.

"Would you do me the honor of accompanying me on an adventure?"

His words startled a laugh from her. "An adventure?"

He nodded, his expression earnest. In that moment, he seemed so young, almost vulnerable. At times, it was hard to believe her endearing, adorable husband was one of the most powerful beings in existence.

But what did he mean by an adventure? Would it take the rest of the day? Where would they go?

"Please?" Elon took her hand in his before feathering a kiss across her knuckles and pressing his forehead to the back of it, awaiting her answer.

Warmth fluttered through her. Displays of power and dominance were supposed to be attractive in men, but somehow, Elon made even humility have a masculine appeal. She squeezed his hand, and he lifted his head. "So long as it's an adventure with you, I'll always go."

Elon's smile stole her breath—and heart—out from under her. "Then let's be off." He tugged her to the feet and headed towards the door, casually ducking underneath Rigada's rod as she swung it towards him. He stopped at the threshold of the room and tossed Rigada a dimpled smile. "I do hope me stealing my wife away isn't too much of an inconvenience."

Rigada drew in a sharp breath, likely to spew out sharper words. Her hair was falling loose of her bun—as if it'd sensed her distraction and had used the opportunity to escape. She clenched her rod in a white-knuckled grip. When Elon's words finally sunk in, the change was obvious: the angry flush seeped from her face, and she dropped her rod. "Wife?"

Elon shut the door behind him, his suppressed laughter escaping in chuckles and snickers.

Carissa shook her head. "You and your dramatic entrances."

He shrugged, his laughter finally fading. "I might as well make good use of my Foresight." His steps were quick—both with excitement and purpose.

"And where are we going, exactly?"

He glanced at her, his dark eyes sparking. "You'll see."

She should have expected that. She was tempted towards irritation before she shook the feeling away, like a dog shaking water from its coat. She'd meant it when she'd said it didn't matter so long as she was with him. And perhaps she ought to learn to like his surprises, especially since they'd be married for quite some time.

Unless the prophecy came true.

She brushed the dark thought away. This was her time with Elon, and nothing would intrude on that. Not even a prophecy.

Elon didn't stop walking until they reached the stables, the dry smells of hay and oats thick in the air. They needed horses? How far were they traveling?

Carissa glanced down at her dress, at her delicate slippers. "Elon?"

He released her hand and opened a stall door. The horse within was already saddled, with packs loaded on its back. "Hmm?"

"Do I need to change?"

"No." He led the horse out of the stall before latching the door shut. "If you needed to, I would've said something." He turned towards her and squeezed her hand. "Can I help you mount?"

Within minutes, they were both mounted and waiting in front of the outer gates. A knight had disappeared within the gatehouse. Gears grinded, chains clanked, and the thick metal doors swung outward.

Unease and excitement shivered beneath her skin, and her questions only remained in her mouth by force of will. This was crazy. She should at least insist she pack first or make sure Elon had a map.

But Elon was prepared, even if she wasn't, and he had a plan, even if she didn't. That's what was important. All she had to do was trust him.

She twined her arms around his waist, even as his proximity made her stomach twist tighter. After their two weeks of separation, it seemed she'd have to become accustomed to his touch once more.

The courtyard fell silent as the gates halted. Their horse shifted beneath them, its impatience as palpable as her anxiety.

Elon tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're ready?"

"I'm ready."

Elon's legs tensed as he dug his heels into the horse's flank. They shot out of the gates, leaving the protection of the palace behind.