Chapter 80 - 82
Avara POV
The horse responds instantly, leaping into a gallop that sends adrenaline coursing through my veins. The wind carries my laughter as we tear across the meadow, blades of grass blurring beneath us. For a few exhilarating moments, my mount surges ahead, but Angelo rides hard, his determination palpable as we close the gap.
In the final stretch, Angelo edges ahead by mere inches, the gap between us as narrow as a breath. As we slow, hearts pounding and faces flushed with victory and defeat, I can’t help but grin as the exhilaration lingers.
We lead the horses back to the palace grounds in a leisurely canter, their hooves drumming a soft rhythm against the earth. The sun glints off the sparkling green field ahead, where a willowy tree casts its gentle shade. There, beneath its sweeping branches, Botan waits, reclined against the trunk in effortless poise. A picnic is laid out before him—a tapestry of light appetizers, gleaming under the dappled sunlight. He’s absorbed in the sci-fi novel I devoured the night before, his brow furrowed in quiet concentration.
As we approach, I slide off my horse with practiced ease, handing the reins to Angelo, who silently leads both steeds toward the stables. My steps are light as I make my way to Botan, drawn by the sight of him slouched comfortably against the tree, one leg stretched out, the other bent casually. The book is open in his hands, but he glances up briefly, the shadow of a smile tugging at his lips before his eyes drift back to the pages.
I sink down, settling between his legs, my head finding its natural rest against his chest. His arm curls instinctively around my waist, a subtle yet unyielding claim of closeness.
"Hope you didn’t read past where we left off?" I murmur, tilting my face to catch his expression.
"Just catching up," he replies, his voice a low hum that vibrates through me. "I passed out after they discovered the encrypted log."
I grin, shifting to my side as my hand reaches for a bundle of grapes. "Ooo," I drawl, plucking one from the vine. "I was gagged after they found out what was on it."
Without request, he resumes where the story left off, reading aloud, his voice smooth and steady, weaving the words into life. Each syllable rumbles through his chest, and I let it wash over me, sinking deeper into the tranquility of the moment. I nibble on the grapes as he reads, punctuating his narration with playful interruptions to feed him a few. His teeth brush my fingertips, and the small, intimate gesture sends a ripple of warmth through me.
Time slows, the world narrowing to the cadence of his voice, the sunlight filtering through the willowy branches.
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