“Fine.” I put my hands on the saddle horn again. “I’m holding on.” I slapped the back of my hand, and then waved away a cloud.
Torin brushed his hands up and down on his calves. “Och, midges love the late afternoon, they like tae bite ye tae send ye tae shelter.” He smacked his forehead.
“They’re everywhere!” I brushed my calves, setting up a bunch of them who were munching on me. “How much farther?”
“A little over an hour.”
He looked around at the sky. “But the rain is comin’, that will calm the wee beasties.”
I gritted my teeth and held on.
A few momentslater I admitted, “Okay, moving is better. You were right, but my whole body itches.”
He pulled our little bottle of balm from the saddlebag and without slowing passed it to me. “Smear this on the itchin’ places.”
I got the balm open with one hand and dipped my fingers in. I smeared some on my face, my ears, and around my calves. “Will it work?”
“I daena ken. Tis soothin’ and the scent might offend them.”
“Want some?”
“Aye.” He pulled Lambo up beside me, took the bottle and pushed the shirt he had wrapped down to his neck. He smeared balm on his forehead, cheeks, and ears, then on his calves. “I think tis good.”
“Me too.” I nodded. “But we gotta keep these horses moving.”
He chuckled. “I never thought ye would say such a thing.”
We rodefor a few more minutes before Torin stopped. He twisted in the saddle, scanning the path behind us.
“Ye hear that?”
I shook my head, peering down the track. “I don’t hear or see anything.”
He stayed still, listening. My own pulse roared louder in my ears than the quiet around us. Then I smacked at my leg — the midges had found me again.
Torin’s hand shot up, halting Lambo so abruptly that Ferrari nearly ran into him. His voice dropped, became sharp. “Dismount. Quiet.”
I had never dismounted by myself before, but I obeyed, swinging my leg over, my heart hammering. I half-slid, half-fell until my boots hit the ground.
Torin dismounted silently, his boots hit the ground beside me.
I clutched the side of the saddle, listening, and in the silence, I heard it — the soft steady thud of distant hooves.
Torin whispered, “They are followin’. Keepin’ pace.”
“How many?” I whispered.
“Tis two, I believe, perhaps three.” He cocked his head, listening. “They are careful not tae overtake us. Tis nae chance.”
He led our horses off the trail into a clump of gorse and pulled me down to crouch behind a rock. The midges descended on us, the damp earth was cold through my makeshift skirt.
Torin stood above me, holding both horses steady with one hand, the other resting on the hilt of his dirk. His breathing was calm, measured. “If they ride past, we wait,” he said with a low voice. “If they stop, I want ye tae run east, Princess. Daena ask, just run.”
I nodded, but because he wasn’t looking, I said, “Yes, okay,” then asked, “Which way is east?”
“Behind us.”
I checked over my shoulder. There was a ditch, a stream, and a wide moor. If I were being chased… holy cannolis thatwas not good. I gulped. Had Torin thought this through? Was he honestly tellingme,an upper-middle-class girl from North Carolina in the modern world, to just flee willy-nilly across a moor?
