Eris could not recall the last time he rode a horse on his own. It felt strange, even foreign, to be seated in a saddle alone. He silently longed to be astride Jacket once more, his head pressed to Marion’s shoulder. A lover’s want, but a prince’s folly. He could not lead when he was behind someone. At the very least, Marion rode within arm’s reach as they began the warpath through the Kingswood.

The Kingswood had once been lively. It had been verdant and dense with foliage. ...