I should've known Harlan wouldn't do anything normal.
At noon the next day, a stable boy ran up to me panting.
"Prince Harlan says if you're not at the west gate in ten minutes he's leaving without you!"
I didn't even change clothes. Just grabbed a cloak and ran.
Harlan was waiting on the biggest chestnut stallion I'd ever seen, grinning like a madman. Another horse danced beside him: pure black, eyes rolling, clearly half-wild.
He reached down a hand. "Hop on, pretty boy. We're going hunting."
I stared. "Hunting what?"
"Freedom," he said, and yanked me up behind him before I could argue.
We didn't take the main road.
We took no road at all.
Harlan rode like the wind had personally insulted him. Through forests, over streams, up hills so steep I had to cling to his waist or fall off. My screams turned into laughter somewhere around the third near-death jump.
Hours blurred. Sun high, then slanting gold. My thighs burned. My hair was full of leaves. I'd never felt so alive.
