THE LOST PRINCESS

-12-

"Strange," she caught herself by the chin, feigning as if she were contemplating.

"What's so strange about that?" Tristan asked.

She looked at him sharply, and her lips formed into a wicked smirk. "You desire me so much for myself that you hurried into Lisa's bed last night."

"Jealous?" he retorted in the same tone.

"Would you like that?" she raised an eyebrow at him. "It would mean that I care about you, and believe me - I don't. Maybe I'm inexperienced, but don't for a moment think I'm foolish. Save your sweet words for someone else. Marrying me will put a crown on your head, but it won't stay if there's no head."

He chuckled. "Are you threatening?"

"Oh no, I would never," she smiled at him.

"All you've said doesn't change our arrangement."

"Maybe," she replied coldly, turning her gaze away from him.

He watched her for a moment, then snorted discontentedly and urged his horse away from her. He joined Soren, riding alongside him.

"Trouble in paradise?" Soren asked him playfully.

He didn't answer, just clenched his teeth harder.

"So, you like her," Soren continued in the same tone. "And you don't like that she doesn't like you."

"That's irrelevant," he coldly replied. "Willing or not, she will become my wife."

"Be careful, Tristan. Marrying you won't make her less desirable. She'll be as attractive as a princess and a widow. There are too many, including your father, who wants the Alcatar crown."

"It's not just about the crown," he said through gritted teeth.

"Well, what then ?"

"There's something about her. She's different."

"Yes, I have to admit she's attractive."

"And mine!" he sharply looked at him.

"Yes, yes..." Soren waved his hand.

They were slowly leaving the Voxtur Forest, although its exact boundary couldn't be defined. The change in vegetation and terrain was evident. Trees became sparser, and the landscape diverse, interspersed with irregular hills and open meadows. The air had a different scent. The smell of salt was present. Izzy looked into the distance. On the horizon, a gentle blue line merged with the sky. "The sea," she thought. Her gaze followed the meadow bathed in the rays of the setting sun. The grass glistened in the sunlight, creating the illusion of a carpet leading to the stream.

"We'll stop here," Tristan ordered authoritatively. "The horses need watering, and we'll set up camp by that stone wall," he pointed towards the stream.

The group camped near the stream in the shadow of a large stone. Elizabeth sat next to Omar, while Soren and Kieran went hunting in their wolf forms. Tristan was not far from them, tending to the horses.

"What's your plan?" Omar asked quietly.

"I don't have a plan," Izzy sighed. She looked in Tristan's direction. "Do you know where we're going?"

"This is the way to Moren, a small fishing village. We'll be there tomorrow. It's not far."

Izzy nodded. "How far are we from Skiptir?"

"From Moren to the westernmost point of Skiptir, it's about 540 nautical miles. If the wind and weather conditions favor us, we'll be there in four days. That's just a rough estimate. The question is, what kind of ship and crew we'll find."