The chariot rattled and bumped along steady under us, Stephen guiding the horses easy while I sat wrapped deep in my heavy cloak, staring out at the trees rushing past. But my mind was miles ahead already — running wild through every horrible picture Beatrice had stuffed into my head.
Over and over I imagined it: Draven standing tall and dark in some fancy hall here in the West… Lady Courtney right up close beside him, hand resting soft and possessive on his arm. And the worst thought of all kept twisting sharp inside me — would he lean down and murmur "little cub" to her too? Just like he does only to me?
That hurt so bad it almost brought tears pricking hot right to my eyes. I bit them back hard and stared harder out the window so no one would notice.
