Ch 4: Ambassador

Aribella POV

“I was worried about you before, but now, I’m really worried. What the heck has gotten into you, Ari?” Peyton leaned up against the stall door with his arms crossed over his chest, watching me drain the horse's wound. Thankfully, there were rows and rows of books lining the walls in my father’s office, and I was able to snag one about basic veterinary care.

Part of my routine involved apologizing to the horse for my inexperience.

“What ever do you mean?”

I feigned innocence, turning back towards the horse. It didn’t seem like it was in distress, but I was. This job was disgusting, and the soup that I’d eaten for lunch had nearly come up three times in the last fifteen minutes.

“Any time the Duke shows up here, you’re giving him that lovey-dovey look of yours, but today, you were ready to tear his head off. What gives?” Peyton walks over, grabbing the cleaning rag, and wiping down the horse’s leg where I’d made a mess.

So Aribella was ignorant of Mael’s true intentions. Is that why he set his sights on her in the story? She had this lingering crush, and he exploited it. I can’t think of another reason why a royal would fall for a ditzy ranch hand.

Aribella was beautiful, but from the sound of it, she wasn't fit to lead a kingdom.

“The way he treated that boy was unbelievable. It felt wrong not to step in.”

Peyton let out a low whistle, “The man is always like that, and you’re just noticing?”

“Maybe I’ve opened my eyes,” I glared at him, but he only chuckled, shaking his head.

“What?”

“You are cute when you’re mad.”

I rolled my eyes, feeling my cheeks flame, and a trickle of unease to roll down my spine after a moment.

I’m not Charlotte any longer, and Stephan is not going to jump out of the shadows to beat me for becoming flustered over this man.

Shaking my head, I snapped out of it. I don’t have the luxury of fear. My second chance at life hangs in the balance.

“I’ll let your father know that you’re almost finished,” Peyton smiles. “Also, I think it was really cool what you did for that boy. Those of us lower on the totem pole don’t always have someone in our corner.”

At least someone other than me thought so.

An hour later, I was cursing Peyton, “Almost finished my ass.”

“Does the horse ever talk back?” a man’s voice startled me from behind. I stumbled backwards, landing on my ass, which gave me a perfect view of a very handsome man with inky black hair, and the iciest blue eyes I’d ever seen.

He had this air about him that screamed authority, but there was a kindness in those bright, blue eyes that made him seem far more approachable than the Whitehall boys.

On his black suit jacket was what I assumed to be a royal crest, so he must be someone of importance.

“This one told me that his master should kick rocks.”

The man arched a brow before breaking into a deep laughter, “That was quite funny, Ms. Voss,” he outstretched a hand, assisting me to my feet. “How is she?” he nodded at the horse before stepping up to pet her muzzle.

“I’ve drained and cleaned the wound, but she’ll need antibiotics for the next three days,” I walked past him, grabbing the package of syringes from the mini-refrigerator. "I wouldn’t recommend riding her until it’s fully healed though. She’ll likely reopen the wound if there is too much stress.”

“Very well. I’ll let Rhory know,” the man smiled politely, and my eyes widened.

“This is… Rhory’s horse?”

“She is, yes,” he arched a brow, making him look younger, “Could you have possibly thought she was Mael's?”

My cheeks surely looked like a tomato, and I avoided his intense gaze, squeaking out a quick ‘Yup’.

He chuckled again, “I heard all about your little stunt this morning. Quite bold for the daughter of a rancher. I took you as a quiet type.”

“Forgive me, but what is your name?”

“I will try not to take personal offense to your question, Aribella,” he outstretched his hand, taking mine into it. “Emrys Locksley.” His lips grazed my knuckles, and my heart skipped a beat.

I haven’t been treated with this kind of gentleness in my entire life.

Emrys Locksley is Rhory’s closest friend and the ambassador of Sacaris. He ends up being the main character of this story in a revenge plot against Mael, but right now, I need to be the main character to save my own skin.

“Do you think you could get me a meeting with Mr. Whitehall?” I blurted out before I could stop the words from coming out. My eyes widened, and my whole body grew hot.

Emrys crossed his arms over his broad chest, studying me for what felt like a lifetime before responding, “What is the reasoning?”

How do I word this without sounding like I’ve gone off the deep end?

“I have a very important matter to discuss with him. I assure you that I won’t be wasting his time. I know that he doesn’t have a lot of it.”

Emrys’s eyes narrowed, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up. The relaxed laughter from before was gone, and in its place was this intensity that made my stomach roll with unease.

He stepped closer to me, and I felt myself shrink away from his presence, “You’re going to have to give me more than that, Aribella Voss. What do you want with the Grand Duke?”

There is no way that I can tell this man the truth. He’d give Rhory secondhand information, and they’d never grant me a meeting. They’d probably send me for a lobotomy and lock me up in a mental institution.

“I can’t speak of the details prior to meeting with him, but it is a life-or-death situation that I have very important information on. It’s vital that I speak with him as soon as possible.”

Please work. Please work. Please work.

Emrys let out a hum, “I’m going to go against my better judgment, and trust you for now. Let your father know that you’ll be accompanying me back to the palace to care for the horse in house for the next three days.”

“Thank you so much, sir. I promise you won't regret it.” I wrapped my arms around him before gasping at my own actions, “I am so sorry,” I smoothed out his shirt, feeling incredibly ignorant. First, I go and start a fight with the Duke, and then I touch the ambassador without permission.

“Pack a bag. I’ll be in the carriage.”