Searching the Heart 2

It was still dark when Cora rose. She drew back the blinds, opened the tall windows and stepped out onto her balcony and breathed in deeply. It would be a perfect day to start. The sky was clear, the wind was mild, and the air was cool.

She went back into her chamber and opened her wardrobe closet and dug far back into it to retrieve her several pairs of breeches and shirts she'd had made privately for her. She didn't think it fair that only noblemen and city folk both men and women be able to enjoy the comforts of breeches and a shirt. She stuffed two of the sets into a sack, and then dressed into a soft pair of tan breeches and a white shirt. She pulled on a soft pair of knee high black boots and tied them.

Aydri wandered into the room sleepily. "Cora, what are you doing up early?" she wanted to know. She immediately became more alert as she noticed the princess's dress and sack. "Where are you going?" she demanded suspiciously.

"Go back to bed," Cora said as she began to braid her long dark hair.

Aydri had come up next to the princess. "Where are you going?" she demanded again as she automatically took over the duties of braiding. "You cannott run off with the Corsuth family here! Your father would be beyond angry, and it would only slap Arlan in the face."

"I am not married yet," Cora said as the other girl tied the braid with a leather cord. Cora poured some water into a basin and washed her face and neck. She then reached into a box and pulled out a few handful of gold, silver, and bronze coins and threw them into a small leather pouch. "I must say good bye to my people."

"What?" Aydri exclaimed, grabbing hold of Cora's shoulders. "Cora! Do you know the disgrace you would be in? How can you even think of it? You could jeapordize the engagement and the alliance your father has worked so hard for!"

Cora was becoming impatient and annoyed. "Aydri, dear, this is something I must do. It is not as if I am running away with another man." And even as she said this, another face, long gone, entered her mind. But she hastily suppressed the memory "I will return by the week's end."

The other girl sighed and fiddled with the end of her braid. "I know that once you have your mind set on something, you will not be convinced otherwise. But you know you will create a scandal. What should I say to your mother and father?"

"Tell them nothing," Cora said flippantly. "They will know. Now I must be going, dear."

She grabbed her black cloak and clasped it around her throat and drew her hood forward. She kissed Aydri on the cheek.

"Don't worry, dear, I will be fine," Cora assured her, smiling. Then, with her haversack in hand, she strode out of her chamber. She stopped into the kitchen to grab a loaf of bread and some other food. The cooks shook their heads indulgently as they continued to work with giving any other notice of their princess's presence.

In the stables, Cora grabbed a plain saddle and bridle in the tack room and took them to her horse, Night Devotion's stall, or Nivo as she'd nicknamed him. He was a tall stallion, eighteen hands, full of fire and defiance, and yet full of devotion for his mistress. Cora fed him a carrot she'd also slipped from the kitchen as she opened the stall door. He lipped it up, then butted his head against her for more. She wrapped her arms around his soft neck and briefly rested her head against him. Nivo was such a special horse to her, much more special than the horses she'd owned in the past. As she felt the soft coat against her cheek, a browned, laughing face came into her mind. With a regretful, but resigned sigh, she began to tack Nivo up.

As Cora finished cinching the last buckle, she heard footsteps. Her hand hovered over the knife strapped to her belt as she stuck her head out of the stall to see Arlan in a sweeping black cloak, a haversack over his shoulder, a scowl on his face. Her hand dropped from the knife as she stepped out of the stall. He looked much different in his plain clothes. She appraised him and thought he might have promise in looking handsome if he continued to dress in plain clothes and no jewelry, though she did eye a small gold ring around his smallest finger, the only sign of his wealth and stature.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded curtly.

"You think I'm going to allow my future bride to scamper across the country alone?" he said in disbelief. He was eyeing her own figure under her cloak, her long slim legs in breeches and high boots. "But I am wise enough to realize I cannot stop you, so I am going with you."

"Like hell you are," she cried. "Go back inside the castle and stay with your silks and jewels."

He took a few long strides forward until he was only inches from her face. "I can be just as stubborn as you, princess," he said in a low voice. "Either you unsaddle that horse and come back to the castle with me, or I go with you."

She glared at him, resentment rising in her chest. "Fine," she snapped. "But if you think I'm waiting for you."

Arlan called out and a groom came, leading a great roan stallion behind him. Then Arlan turned back to Cora, a mocking smile on his face.

"Well, let's go then," she grumbled. She tied her haversack onto her saddle, then led Nivo out of his stall.

A few moments later, both mounted on their horses, they looked at each other with mutual dislike. Then Cora turned her horse to the palace gates and rode at an easy trot. She waved casually at the guards, and they laughed and waved in return as they opened the gates for her.

"I suppose you do these morning escapades often?" Arlan said cynically. "Conspiring with servants and guards to get your way. Scampering about the country like a common peasant girl with no amount of dignity."

Cora didn't answer. She urged Nivo into a brisk trot, deeply regretting that she'd ever suggested him accompanying her. She felt there wouldn't be much to keep her from killing him when they were married.

They followed no path, no road for miles, and yet, Cora seemed to know exactly where she was going. She could almost forget Arlan was with her as she took in the sweet smell of grass and flowers. They rode in silence, Cora's a happy and blissful silence, Arlan's a sulky, resentful silence. Wooden houses, occasionally stone, sprang up here and there from the depths of the hills. The people had been up for a few hours by now, and they were attending whatever morning chores had to be done. But no matter how engrossed they were, all of them would spare a glance up at the sound of approaching hooves. Their faces would spread into smiles of delight as they waved cheerfully at the princess, calling her by name, and she in return. They did not know the stranger at her side, but they had no wish to; he seemed foreign, noble, and obviously displeased with his situation.

At one point, Cora spurred her stallion into a gallop at a flat stretch; she leaned far over his neck, urging him to go faster. Familiar with this game, Nivo responded eagerly and stretched out his long, slender gray legs. The hills and trees flew by in a blur, and all that existed was the wind blowing against Cora's face, the sun beating down on them. She heard a shout and the whinny of another horse, but it was so far away, it was no concern to her. All that mattered was the smooth, fast rhythm of Nivo.

It was with great reluctance that Cora slowly eased Nivo back to a canter, then a trot, and at last a walk. The stallion was barely breathing hard; he tugged at the reins, wanting to run more, but Cora had to deny him. She suddenly heard quick hoof beats some distance behind her, and she looked back, puzzled and curious. It was with great shock that recognized Arlan; she had completely forgotten him! She took the moment to study his style of riding. He was obviously at home in the saddle, very relaxed as he leaned over his horse's neck, staring at her with a fixed concentration. His lips were moving, and his hands were easy on his horse's mouth.

When he pulled up beside her, his eyes were blazing angrily, and the image of kindness was lost. Cora urged Nivo into a walk. She looked over her shoulder and said, "Next time, do try and keep up."

Arlan caught up with her in a few steps on his great roan horse and grabbed her elbow. Cora turned in surprise as she tried to wrench free, but his grasp was firm.

"We are to be married," he said in a low, dangerous voice. His eyes were intent on her face, his face not at all kind. "And as your husband, I will expect respect, decorum, and properness a woman is supposed to display. I will not be made a fool. You will be living in the Amaluri court so you had best learn now what it means to be Amaluri."

Cora had never truly hated anyone as much as she hated Arlan at that moment. Her eyes narrowed, she managed to free herself from his grip. She straightened to her tallest height she could manage in the saddle. "I am no man's doll to be displayed," she said. It was a painful struggle to keep it steady and cool, to not show him how insulted and angry he made her. "We may marry each other, but we will never be husband and wife, only political consorts. I will act as I please, for I am still a king's daughter."

His lips twisted in a cynical smile. "Then perhaps you should learn how to act like a king's daughter." His smile suddenly became touched with a hint of sadness. "Political consorts, indeed," he added softly, almost to himself. He looked ahead, breathed in and breathed out slowly. He then urged his horse into a brisk walk.

Cora could not speak as her horse automatically followed Arlan's stallion. Arlan had been what seemed like sympathetic for the both of them. He was continually surprising her and throwing her off her guard. Perhaps she had judged him too hastily. Perhaps he was not the over-confidant and superior prince he seemed to be. But then she shook her head, remembering his previous words. "Respect, decorum, properness. "

The sun blazed overhead. Cora removed her cloak and placed it in front of her on her saddle. She pushed back her sleeves and wiped her forehead. She heard running water in the distance. They'd been riding for at least three hours by now. Cora stopped Nivo a few yards away from the stream and surveyed the area.

"Why have we stopped?" Arlan demanded.

She held up a hand for silence as she listened carefully. At last, she dismounted. "Bandits or criminals always lurk around streams, as do dangerous animals, so it is always best to check first," she said as she allowed Nivo to go to the stream and drink.

Arlan had followed Cora's example and let his horse go to the water. "And what if there had been bandits?" he challenged as he knelt down beside the stream. "Then what?"

"I find my own stream," she replied simply. She untied a saddlebag from Nivo's saddle. "But I do come prepared." She briefly pulled a knife from down her boot top.

"But these bandits are your own people. Do you not speak with them to understand them, befriend them?" he taunted. "Do you not wait to find the good person underneath?"

Her eyes flashed dangerously. "I did not say I love everyone. That fact should be obvious to you. Bandits are normally fugitives from other countries, fugitives from justice, criminals. I do not play around with bandits or my life."

"But you 'play around' with your life every moment you are out here, alone. Your horse could throw you, a wild animal could attack you, a hunter could make a mistake, or a bandit could jump you."

Cora shrugged. "That is a risk I take, and I am fully aware of it. Life is a game of chance, and if we didn't take chances, think how much duller life would be."

"You are foolish. In Amalur, you will not take such risks. Too much would be at stake if your life was endangered."

"My life is my own," she growled.

He laughed bitterly as he shook his head. "No, it will not be once we are married. Your life will belong to the state of Amalur. Your life will be more important than it has ever been, for you will be a future queen. You will be a pillar of the country."

She took the bread out of her sack and went to sit on a rock. She broke off a piece and chewed slowly. "So I will have a say in the government?" she asked carefully, not looking at him.

"Perhaps," he said, then turned his back to her to splash his face with water. He was hunching over a little from fatigue, and he gave a big sigh.

The prince infuriated her, treating her like she was nothing, like she was stupid. When she was queen, she would fight with her every breath to be a true queen. She would not be an ornamental pillar, but an active one. She had stood along side her brother as Emerus discussed politics with Ranson, and she had sat in the council while they made plans of treaties, wars, revenues, taxes, trade. She could read and write flawlessly, had studied several languages, history, battle tactics, and mathematics. She would not live her life as an ornament, for she knew the workings of the world.

She looked forward to the rest of the week to see him wear down. His pride would never admit it, but she would take more pleasure from his inner struggle to continue and not say a word of complaint. She would take even greater pleasure seeing him shaking hands with people who were "peasants." It would probably be the first time his smooth hands ever touched the hands of "peasants" whose hands would be calloused and rough, dirty and sweaty. Oh yes, she would stand by and watch him be forced to humble his pride. And when she went into the fields to work with the farmers, she wondered what he would do. It would be uncomfortable and boring to sit on his horse for a few hours as she worked, and he couldn't go riding off on his own since he did not know his way.

Then she stood up and put the bread back into her pack. Nivo had drunk enough water and was looking at her expectantly. She patted his head affectionately and nimbly jumped onto his back. The prince was still kneeling down in the dirt, staring off at nothing. He now looked up at her in surprise.

"Let's move out," she commanded. She waited a moment as he hopped onto his stallion's broad back, then urged Nivo into a trot.

After a few minutes, they came to a wide dirt road. One could see the road for miles ahead, twisting and turning, dipping and rising. Tall, grand trees stood at attention on either side of the road, their branches raised in the air proudly. They wavered slightly from a mild wind; their leaves made a soft, hushed swishing.

"This is the Honors Road," Cora said as they rode. "It passes through several small villages, and then it will fork off at the main city. It goes straight through Sanma, and also all around it. Then they will merge together again on the other side. These trees have been here for centuries, standing guard."

Arlan's eyes looked at the tall trees with an appreciating eye. Then his eyes strayed to Cora's figure. "Do you always ride as a man, and dressed as one?" he asked.

Her lips twisted. "Yes, I do. Why can men be the only ones comfortable when riding? Dresses are nothing but a hindrance, getting in the way. And Nivo here was not trained to ride with a sidesaddle on, so I have to use a man's."

"I am not complaining of how you choose to dress," he assured her, grinning. "It is a . . . a different, and not unpleasant change. You ride a stallion?" he said, now studying Nivo. "He is a magnificent animal. Is he from a blood line in your stables?"

A shadow passed over her face and she bit her lip. "No," she said hesitantly as she looked over at a tree with sudden interest. "He was a gift two years ago."

"From whom? He must have been bred by someone with a great eye for horseflesh."

"A friend," she snapped. Arlan took the hint and fell silent on the subject until another time.

About a mile down the road, they reached a village. Like almost all of the villages in Sanjia, Kintu was made of stone, solid and strong. It was of medium size, well kept, and busy. It was a weaving village, raising sheep for wool, making strong cloth, dying it, and sometimes making clothing items out of it.

They passed through the stone walls of the village, Cora waving casually to the wall guards. She surveyed the stone houses, as if looking for someone. Then she caught sight of a young woman carrying a bundle with a small girl at her side carrying a smaller bundle.

The young woman smiled at sight of the princess. "Honor and grace to you, Cora," she said cheerfully.

Cora dismounted and smiled in return. "Honor and grace to you, as well, Melar," she said warmly. She rested her hands on her knees as she looked at the child. "Hello, Meltri."

The child whispered a greeting, then hid behind her mother's skirts. Melar laughed as she rested an affectionate hand on the girl's hair. "We must get this cloth dyed so we can make some use of it! Meltri needs a new dress, don't you sweetheart?" Then she looked back at Cora. "Shall we see you soon for your lesson?"

Cora regretfully shook her head. "I'm sorry, not this week. But next week, perhaps."

Melar nodded, then continued on her way with a farewell.

Cora glanced at Arlan, who looked bored and disdainful. He was sitting lazily in the saddle, his reins slack. Her jaw set, she led Nivo through the village on foot. She often stopped to greet people she knew, and she would chat with them for a few minutes. She'd occasionally glance up at Arlan again, and he became more and more vexed with each stop.

One older man named Remsi noticed Arlan. "Who is this young man? Is he a mute or a slow-wit?" Remsi asked as he studied the prince.

"He is a friend of mine," Cora explained, stifling a laugh as a shocked, then outraged expression crossed his face. Before he could speak, she said quickly, "Remsi, this is Arlan. He is a friend of mine from court."

Remsi, who was dying a piece of cloth red, wiped his hands clean, though they remained stained, stood up, and held his hand out. "Nice to meet a friend of Cora's, though I didn't know she much fancied anyone from court. This is the second time she has brought anyone with her. You must be special."

Arlan glared down at the older man and pointedly at the stained hand waiting to shake his own. Very slowly, grudgingly, he dismounted from his tall stallion and loosely took Remsi's hand.

Remsi seized the prince's hand eagerly and shook it hard. "Honor and grace to you, Arlan," he said, smiling broadly.

Arlan didn't smile as he said coldly, "I wish you the same."

"I liked the other one," Remsi said, grinning at Cora. "This one doesn't seem like one of your own taste? Is this the man your father found for you?"

"Yes, he his. Well, we must be on our way." After they'd exchanged farewells, she mounted her horse.

"Who is this 'other one'?" Arlan demanded after he'd mounted his own stallion.

"A distant cousin of mine," she said curtly. "A friend."

"Another friend, is it? Perhaps the same friend who gave you Nivo? Who is this mysterious friend or friends?"

"We'll reach Partri next," she said, ignoring his questions and said nothing more.

They rode through Partri, as well as several other villages. Through each one, Cora would dismount and walk through it, speaking with several villagers. The people's faces would light up at the sight of her, and they would all pause in their work to greet her and speak with her. They did treat her with a certain amount of respect, but mostly friendliness and comfortable, cheerful familiarity.

Arlan followed sullenly, eyeing the people with indifference. He did not dismount from his horse again to greet anyone. Most of the people only gave him a side glance. A few would greet him, and he would nod to them. Not insulted, or even very interested in his presence, they would then continue to speak with Cora.

Cora did not ask him to dismount and speak with her people. To her satisfaction, he was beginning to feel uncomfortable atop his tall horse all alone as the people would crowd around Cora and ignore him. No, her prince was not one accustomed to being ignored or considered unworthy of people's consideration and thought.

Finally, the first day came to an end. They were in a larger village, Sarri and found an inn to stay in over night.

The innkeeper eyed her and Arlan from under his bushy eyebrows and longish white hair. He cleared his throat and waited expectantly.

"We wish to have an adjoining room," Cora said tersely.

The innkeeper raised his brow in question, and he was frowning as he shook his head. "I am sorry, mistress, but we do not have adjoining rooms. Only couple's rooms available tonight, for the single ones are occupied because of the coming trade shows and markets. Coming from all over the world, you know, with rare, priceless goods."

She bit her lip as she contemplated this dilemma. The last place she wanted to find herself was in the same bed as Arlan, or even in the same room. She could not be so close to temptation: temptation to kill him as he slept.

She sighed and was forced to accept a couple's room, having no other choice. "That will have to do, I suppose. We will both be requiring hot baths and a hot meal."

She spoke with authority and one used to command. The innkeeper muttered something under his breath as he searched for a key. Then he motioned for Cora and Arlan to follow him up the stairs.

The room was large enough to fit a very wide bed covered with simple cotton sheets, a table with a basin and pitcher, and a corner with a metal bathtub. Two large windows overlooked the back of the inn where there was a large garden and a small pond beneath a draping tree.

Arlan remained standing in the doorway, surveying the room through narrowed eyes. His eyes strayed to the large bed. "I suppose we can practice how far apart we are to sleep when we are married. Though our bed will be double the size of this one and we can keep our distance."

Cora did not laugh with him. This was not how her married life was supposed to be! It was supposed to be full of love and passion and friendship, not coldness and distance. Against her will, a browned, handsome laughing face came into her mind, with dark glittering eyes and curly dark hair. She sighed deeply and mournfully as she sat down on the bed. It was much harder than her feather bed, but it would do. She had slept on the ground many nights before.

"You will have to make do with cotton sheets tonight," she said at last.

He merely looked at her, and without the usual scowl. She did not see the puzzlement in his face. "But of course. I could not expect such a place to have anything better," he replied flippantly. "You may bathe first, and I will go down for some dinner."

She did not see his face, but she saw different one its stead, no matter how she struggled to banish it from her mind.

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Cora woke early the next morning about an hour after dawn. She felt clean and refreshed from the hot bath the night before. She looked over and was surprised to see Arlan's half of the bed empty.

The night had been tense and uncomfortable. After they'd both had meals and bathes, they'd stood across from each other on either side of the bed, Cora's long dark hair dripping still and Arlan's looking like grass with dew in it. Then they'd slowly, hesitantly climbed into bed, careful to not touch. The silence during the night had been stifling and heavy. She knew, as she lay awake that Arlan was awake as well. But they did not speak as they lay with their backs to each other.

As Cora rose and washed her face and neck and dressed, she decided that they would sleep in a barn tomorrow night on soft straw covered with a horse blanket. She would not be able to bear another tense, sleepless night.

She went down to the common room for breakfast. To her surprise, Arlan was already seated at a table. He was dynamically speaking with a pretty young woman at a table next to his. She was slim, tiny, and fair, and looking adoringly into Arlan's eyes. Feeling vexed for no reason, Cora strode over to Arlan's table and sat down across from him.

He looked up at her in surprise, then grinned. "Good morning, Cora," he said pleasantly. "Did you sleep well?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "Wonderfully," she said sarcastically. "And you?"

"I had some discomfort because the bed was so hard. Was it as hard on your side? Anyway, I was just speaking with this young woman, Trula. She tells me that we will reach the horse masters' village today. I'd like to look into buying a new horse."

Trula was smiling brightly at the prince. "My father is one of the horse masters," she said pointedly. "He can show you the finest stallions in the country. I could even ride with you to show you where my village is."

Cora scowled at this obtrusive and forward woman. She opened her mouth to turn her offer down harshly, but she did not have the chance.

Arlan shook his head regretfully and gave the young woman a charming smile. "I appreciate your generous offer, but my dear Cora and I are traveling alone to understand the meaning of life, to understand ourselves, and each other. So many people merely seek to control the world without slowing down to see the beauty of it and understand it."

The young woman gushed with admiration at the prince's words, and Cora struggled not to burst out laughing. Soon, the young woman departed.

"That was probably the worst lie I have ever heard," Cora commented lightly. "But I must commend you, for I probably would have hurt you if you had agreed."

Arlan laughed as he popped a slice of fruit into his mouth. "These are simple people, and they are ready to believe anything that sounds fanciful. They love the ideas of noble quests. They make it easy to lie to."

She was beginning to regret her words of praise, for Arlan had lied for all the wrong reasons. He lied out of the mere pleasure and enjoyment he got from it, not to save himself from the burden of the young woman's company.

"You are despicable," Cora muttered in disgust.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Did I not save you from that woman's company?"

She did not answer.

They rode out after generously paying the innkeeper and retrieving their horses from the stables. The day was not too warm and white puffy clouds were thick overhead in the blue sky. Later they would draw together and become black with rain and thunder. But it would not be until later afternoon.

"So exactly what magic has made this transformation?" Cora demanded, half in jest, half in earnest. Arlan was slouched comfortably in the saddle, an almost content expression on his face, a shadow of a smile on his lips, a faraway look in his green eyes. She thought he looked almost handsome for a moment without smirking smile or disdainful eyes.

He grinned at her for the second time that morning. "I have a great passion for horses. Oh, Demon here is not all that bad. He is tall, fit, and obedient, but he still lacks something. Sanjia is rumored to have the best horses that have that something that others lack. That is only what I hear, of course, but I look forward to seeing these beasts first hand. If there is anything half as fine as that beast you are riding, I will be most pleased."

"I told you, Nivo is not of Sanjia."

Arlan's green eyes were intent on her face, searching for an answer she would not give. "Why do you not tell me where you acquired him from? Why is it such a great secret?" His voice regained some of his usual mockery, his lips pulled back into a now familiar smirk. "Or did you happen to steal him from someone? Perhaps I am not the one with magic at my hands. Perhaps Nivo is truly a unicorn in disguise and you so selfishly keep him to yourself as he divulges all the wisdom of the world to you."

His taunts did not have the effect he wished them to, for Cora merely withdrew into herself, which was unusual. She would normally have some clever and quite insulting comment in return for him, which he had come to expect. Arlan was becoming quite impatient with her mysterious secrecy. For the love of the gods, what was so important that she felt she needed to withhold so? It had to be something quite deep if not even his taunts would draw it out of her. But for god's sake, it was a horse! What was so special about her horse?

"Nivo was a gift," Cora said at last, very softly. "From a dear friend."

"Who was the other man Remsi spoke of?" Arlan asked, watching her closely. "I expect an answer from you, Cora."

Resentment flooded her at these last words. He was not her husband yet, had no right to demand anything from her. Come to think of it, she would not allow him the right to demand anything of her when they were married. She was her own person.

"You expect an answer from me?" she repeated sweetly. "How nice for you, for you will not get one. I have decided today that we will visit Pahra. She has a great garden, not exactly a farm, and she manages it alone, with help occasionally from the village boys. She lives about five miles from here."

A scowl came quickly to Arlan's face. "And how shall we help her?"

"We shall help her root out the weeds, dig up whatever good food there is to dig up today, perhaps help her around her house, fix some things."

"I will not belittle myself so great as that and do a peasant's job," he said in revulsion. "Peasants have their own station in life, have their own duties to perform, and I have mine. There is no reason to mingle the two of us together."

"You are such a spoiled child," she said, laughing in amazement. "Can you not bear the thought of dirtying your royal hands?"

"I know my place," he replied coldly. "As you obviously do not. What would you think if suddenly a poor, dirty, ignorant peasant came to the palace doors and wanted to run the country for an hour or so? You could not allow it because he was not brought up to run a country. He would make a mess of everything, of trade, taxes, and peace agreements. He would only disrupt the order of the palace."

"He could learn, just as I have learned their trades," she shot back. "People are not so stupid as you undermine them to be."

"Politics are not something you learn in a few weeks. It takes a lifetime to learn of the treacheries of politics, the slyness and greed of men, the ambitions and goals. You have to see all that in a man or woman's face, voice, certain words; you have to learn to see it. You have to have grown up in such an environment."

"People can learn," she insisted. "People can learn the evils of human nature. People can learn politics. They have minds, common sense."

"But they've never put it into practice," Arlan said impatiently. "The only reason you like to learn these peasants' trades is because you know you will have your warm, clean, beautiful palace waiting for you. You know you can go back to your other life. You would not be so fond of their trade or way of life if it were yours. If you did have a peasant's life, you would be yearning for a royal life. You are still a princess by blood, and a princess at heart, though you may fight it."

"How dare you!" she cried, outraged. "How dare you speak to me like that? You don't know me, you don't know my heart; you don't know anything about me! Your presumptions sicken me. You don't know me!"

"It's true," he said, an arrogant smile on his face. "I've lived amongst many types of people, and I can recognize a person trying to run away, but who is still inevitably linked to who they really are."

Thunder boomed in the far distance, and the white clouds were becoming grayer. There was a fierce scowl on Cora's face, her eyes narrowed, and her fingers clutched around the reins tightly. Her blood was racing and her pulse beating savagely. At last, she kicked Nivo's sides and set him at a gallop.

Arlan just watched her go, an amused expression on his face. She was running, but she could not escape that which she outran. She may appear confident and all-knowing of life, but she did not know the first thing about it.



"Searching the Heart 3"