The path bent through the trees, the scent of pine sharper now.
“We are gettin’ closer,” he said at last.
“Thank heavens. I’m famished.”
“If we are questioned, ye are m’wife. I will be yer husband. I ken tis a sin tae lie, as tis a sin tae pretend tae a marriage we haena sworn. But if ye are unmarried, ye would need women about ye. And if ye are a lady of high standin’, ye should hae a larger guard.”
“Of course, though I doubt I will be in conversation with anyone. So far I haven’t understood a word anyone’s said.”
He didn’t answer.
I said, “I will pretend to be your wife, though.” Then I asked, “Are you worried, Torin?”
“Aye, the vessel nae workin’ has changed m’calculations. Worse still, I canna pin the date. The season feels as it did when I left, which leads me tae believe it may be the same year. The first men I spoke tae told me twas a fortnight from the flower moon — that places it close, but nae exact. The farmer saidtwas a fortnight from the monthly market, which is nae precise enough. I need a true date, and I need it exact, for time-travelin’ purposes.”
“And here I thought you were all reckless charm and blind confidence. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard you so… pensive before.”
“I hae never had such a vast responsibility laid upon me,” he admitted. “It wears heavy. But… as ye said, Princess, likely if I eat something, m’mood winna be as ‘crappy.’”
“I am the heavy, vast responsibility?”
He teased, “Nae. Mostly Dude. I must get Dude tae safety and a full belly.”
We both turned to glance back at the other horse. A tuft of Dude’s fur poked out of the saddlebag, twitching in the breeze.
“He’s going to be up all night carousing after sleeping all day.”
Torin chuckled. “Tis the perfect cat life.”
11
LEXI
1558 - THE FORDMAN’S REST NEAR ABOYNE
The road grew crowded as daylight waned. We moved with the press of peasants, cattle drovers, and hard-eyed ruffians — some trudging on foot, some behind ox-carts, a few lucky enough to ride. Very few women.
We had the finest horses of the lot, and Torin was the tallest, broadest man in sight. But his size drew eyes, and I felt his tension in the way he kept his jaw set, curt with every passerby. He urged us straight through the crowd, headed for the inn.
It was a low stone building, whitewashed in patches, its thatched roof dark with smoke and rain. It was too small for the number of travelers that had been jostling along the road. It made me wish we had hurried up and gotten here earlier.
I lowered my voice. “Are they going to have room for us?”
“I daena ken.”
“What is your excuse for the bruise on your face?”
“I will tell them we were set upon by ruffians. Tis an explanation enough for yer strange dress as well.”
“Oh.”
A crude wooden sign swung by the door, a stag’s head scratched in charcoal across a splintered board. A man stood inthe doorway, lighting the lamp as dusk crept in. Torin drew us up beside him.
“Dost ye hae a room?”
The innkeeper didn’t even glance our way. “Nae.”
Torin demanded in a strong loud voice, “Ye will. Ye canna leave us without shelter. M’uncle is a laird?—”
