swirling dust. Heâd then cut the bottom of her tunic to make two coverings to keep as much of the sand off their faces, as well.
Feeling wretched, with sand coating every part of her cold, wet body, Farah could have cried with relief when she glanced up to see a rocky incline in front of them.
Jumping down from the stallionâs back, the prince reached up and tugged her off, unceremoniously dragging her and her horse under the shelter. It wasnât much, just a narrow crevice really, but it was facing away from the wind. When he released her arm, she swayed and he held her while her legs worked to keep her upright.
Carefully she unwrapped her makeshift headdress and shook it out. She tried to brush some of the sand from her body but she was so wet it only made her cold fingers sting. Instead, she used the torn fabric to brush over Moonbeamâs legs to offer him some relief. She could hear the prince shaking out fabric and presumed he had taken his shirt from around the stallionâs head. She knew his skin must be sore from where heâd been pelted by the storm.
âThank you,â she said stiffly.
âFor what?â His deep voice sounded beside her and she jumped because she hadnât heard him move and couldnât see a thing in the blackness.
âFor protecting my horse.â
âIf he had died, so would we,â he bit out.
Okay, so that cleared up any notions sheâd had about him being thoughtful. About to move as far away from him as possible she let out a shriek when he put his hands on her shoulders and worked them down to her waist.
Incensed at the invasion of her person, Farah slapped his hands away. âI told you I donât have any more weapons.â
âWhereâs your mobile phone?â
Feeling small and helpless compared to his size and strength, she shoved at his wide chest, thankful that it was now covered in fabric. âWhy would I have a mobile phone when our village doesnât have coverage?â
He cursed and moved away from her. Farah let out a pent-up breath and gave a hollow laugh, her arms coming around her body to ward off the chill. âSwearing wonât help, and you only have yourself to blame, because your father refused to spend money on anyone but himself.â
He ignored the jab and once again she heard the rustle of fabric.
âWhat are you doing?â she demanded as he pulled Moonbeamâs blanket off.
âWe need this more than he does.â
âYou canât just take it off. Heâll freeze.â
âHe will not freeze. He has a thick coat of hair and heâs mostly dry. We are not.â
As if on cue, another huge shiver wracked her body and she rubbed her arms. The wind howled outside their rocky respite but at least it didnât cut right through her any more. Too tired to argue, she dropped to her knees on the hard ground.
âYouâre too close to the opening there. Come here.â
How he knew her location was beyond her. âIâm fine.â
âThat wasnât a request,â he growled so close to her she jumped again.
âIâm too tired to argue with youâ she snapped. âJust let me be.â
âThe way your father let me be?â
Farah closed her eyes. She didnât want to think about why they were in this predicament because she knew her father had been wrong to do what heâd done, even if he did think his reasoning was solid. âDid I not just say I was too tired toâhey! Put me down!â
âI too am tired, Iâm also hungry and angry, so I would advise you not to test the limits of my patience because that ran out three days ago when your father refused to release me. He hasnât had the courage to face me since.â
âMy father is not a coward!â
âNo?â He placed her on the ground more gently than she expected, given the roughness of his hold. âSo you condone his actions? Or perhaps you