“There is nowe, Artemis.” He stated each word all too clearly. “There is nous.”
Reflexively, she flinched, but remained undaunted as she tapped forefinger to mouth. “Unless …” She let the word hang in the air.
He exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “Unless?”
“Unless,” she said, “we rode. We do have two horses,” she added.
His face closed off to her. “I’m not riding.”
She had an argument armed with logic prepared for this objection. “A highwayman could come along and steal Radish from us.”
“Highwaymen vanished with the last century,” he said with equal, if not greater logic. “I’m not riding.”
An irritated huff escaped Artemis. She saw that she would have to address the obstacle head on—and come what may. “Your leg is not preventing you from riding.”
His jaw clenched and unclenched.
“Your limp isn’t all that bad.”
“Leave it, Artemis.”
She should heed the warning in his voice—if only she could. “You can swim.”
“You know nothing about it.”
“I’m just saying?—”
“It’s not my leg.”
She froze, then blinked.Not his leg?“Of course, it’s your leg. Or did you sustain a different injury that I’m unaware of?”
The bitter ghost of a laugh sounded through his nose. “You might say that.”
“I’m not following.”
As the inscrutability faded from his eyes, she wasn’t prepared for what she met there—a wound yet open and raw.
No longer was this a game.
This was real life—hisreal life.
A matter of life and death.
Death came in many forms.
And this man knew that fact well, his eyes told her.
He drew an unsteady breath. He was so utterly unlike the man she’d thought she’d known. This man was vulnerable and struggling.
This man might need a friend.
He ran his free hand through his thick hair. “It’sme.”
“You?”
“Something in me that I cannot explain—even to myself.”
He hesitated, as if weighing whether to go on.
